Here's an excerpt from a chapter of a little book I am working on(tentative title: Simple Virtues: Cultivating a Life of Greater Meaning and Deeper Spirituality). This is unedited, unfinished. I would like your comments, observations and suggestions. Is there a future in this project? Would you buy a copy of the book (even if i didn't force you hehehe)? Hopefully I will be able to finish the entire manuscript soon...
Simplicity
Nasidman Island is just a few kilometers off the shores of the small town of Ajuy in the province of Iloilo. The small island had no redeeming feature except for a lonely lighthouse set on a rocky terrain facing the inscrutable Pacific ocean. It is forlorn, and eloquently sad – like a crystal goblet mired in mud. There was no electricity in that island. There was no potable water also. Drinking, and even bathing water had to be brought from the town in the mainland. It was in this island that the churches in Iloilo and Bacolod decided to have their youth camp – of all places.
I was doing my internship in one of the city churches there as required by my seminary training, and part of my duty was to accompany a bunch of teenagers to this camp. The sweltering summer season was at its height when we went there. I promptly fell sick a day after we got to the island. Some pestilential virus left me weak and cranky. So not only was there no electricity, no water, the heat was just too much, I was also battling with virus. I couldn’t wait until the camp was over.
Except one time, at dusk we worshipped. The sun was just setting; the red glow from the horizon was like dying coal. There were no microphones, no electric musical instruments, just the pure voices of the young people. We were singing in a capella. I was communing with God. Rather, I was complaining to God. “Why am I here?” I asked God. This was not some angst-driven existential question I was asking, mind you. I was simply bemoaning the fact that I could have been comfortably sitting in the office of the church, trying to do His will while magnanimously enduring the quiet hum of the air conditioner, instead of being hot, sick and miserable. Then all of a sudden, from somewhere (it was getting dark. I couldn’t see who play) came the voice of a recorder.
The notes were simple and unsophisticated, but it was absolutely beautiful. It was a love song, it was a lament. It was both a celebration and mourning. It was pure notes of laughter; it was crystalline drops of tears. While that recorder rose above the voices of the kids, something began to take place. Something began to happen to this unlikely place. It became beautiful. The heat, the sharp stones, the uncomfortable bed didn’t sound or feel as bad anymore. I was lifted up from the wretched place, and truly worshipped the Lord. I vowed then to learn to play the recorder, if only to recapture that moment when the Lord made Himself manifest. I, who had no musical talent whatsoever, vowed I would learn to play the recorder. And so, as soon as I could afford it, I got one, taught myself to play, and go back to that place when God was near.
Did the recorder really sound that beautiful? Or, would it have sounded the way it did if there were amplified music, and sound systems were working? I guess no one would have noticed it, nor appreciated it. And yet, because and not in spite of the utter lack of sophistication that it is beautiful. We crave for the spectacular. The vividness of its beauty, the genius of thought, and the flowing, graceful movements allows us to be transported somewhere transcendent. These brilliant splashes of color transform our mundane world into something both magical and enchanting. And so we treasure these special times.
But life is not a series of intense delights. More often, life is simple – mundane – ordinary. We have our routines. We have our rhythms. We think that the muted colors of the ordinary do not cause us to celebrate. But to hear the subtle rhythms of simplicity is as magical as star bursts of luminosity. The ordinary can bring joy. Laughter, work, commuting, doing your grocery – simple, regular activities – these too can be avenues for the mystical, for the transcendent. These can be occasions for a deeper understanding of self, or our soul, of He who is above ordinary. Let us learn to be fluent in the subdued language and whisperings of our ordinary life, of the path of simplicity – for at the very heart of it, at its core, when all is stripped and all is laid bare, we find the most brilliant of all: Him.
This takes a radical change of perspective. We will need a different way of seeing things. The pure notes of that recorder will not be as haunting is if the air was filled with artificial noise of amplified instruments and electric sound systems. The noise and the complications of this world will drown the tender and silent beauties that are around us. And thus, to truly appreciate God, and all that is His handiwork, we must learn to focus, and trim the details that most often superfluous and unneeded.
But not only that, we must learn to consider the things we do not have as well. We need to settle the aspect of how we look at the things we crave and yet do not have. Can we appreciate our very condition of need, and show joy and even gratefulness for the things we do not have? I do not mean giving thanks in spite of lack, but to give thanks because we do not own or possess material things. For this is the essence of simplicity: to let go of clutter and to appreciate that which we do have.
Simplicity as Choice
In some cultures, the notion of simplicity is letting go of material excess. For example, among the rich and the sophisticated, minimalism (which is the fancier term for being simple) is something of a choice- exciting in fact, for those who are used to extravagance. And so, books upon books, talks upon talks encourage and advocate the voluntary giving up of these clutters. There is wisdom in that. I think it is always a good idea to keep wanton materialism in check, and advocates of simplicity espouse freedom from things that can make you addicted, or from a lifestyle is overcome with the desire to have more, and be more. Some would advise, for example, to give away things that just cram closets and deliberately live simpler by buying smaller cars, or simpler homes, or plainer clothes and others. The ultimate purpose is to be able to breathe and be free from the slavery of consumerism and materialism.
However, many of us do not choose simplicity as a guiding principle for our lives, because for the most part it is the only way. Many of us have grown up with so little in life, and we have learned to make do with such meager resources. Most often, our homes and our lifestyles are marked by sparseness and plainness. We find people who live simply, who live without abundance or opulence- not because they have chosen to be simple, but simply because there was really no other way to live.
The compelling question, therefore, is: in our search for authentic simplicity, what path do we choose? What if there is no choice, for we are forced by our circumstances to be simple? Can we still call it simplicity? Where is the virtue in that?
The Core of Simplicity
The best way to describe simplicity and understand what it means is to look at the ultimate model and source of simplicity, Jesus Christ. From him we get a clue as to what the concept implies. This will lead us to the answer to our quest for authentic simplicity.
The lifestyle of Jesus – a life spent traveling, teaching, preaching, and being with people is not simplistic. Rather it is deep and can sometimes be filled with paradoxes and ironies both blatant and subtle. And yet the quietness that seems to come off him in spite the mad scrambling and complications about him is an oasis. Jesus’ life is marked with a simplicity that is neither severity, nor frugality, but one that is innocent and down to earth. It wasn’t miserly, or dour. It is a simplicity that is more like an outflow of an inner condition, and whose effect is like a cold drink on a scorching day.
For Jesus, simplicity certainly involves a letting go – just as He had stripped himself of the glories of heaven. Material possessions rank lowest in his priorities. He lived simply, and existed on meager means. If He, who is the owner of all things and from all things come from, did not consider them of utmost importance, then perhaps we need to heed His repeated and often direct instructions on money, possession and ownership. This is an ancient and venerable wisdom. So the contemporary heed to let go of material excesses and to deliberately prune one’s lifestyle is a valid, Scriptural, and yes, virtuous endeavor.
The Motivation for Simplicity
There is a far more compelling reason and expression of simplicity than just down play the significance of worldly possessions. Simplicity isn’t just some fundamental suspicion of the material world. Something deep and powerful must be at work here. For the very act of the sacrifices of Jesus, while it certainly entailed a life trimmed of excesses, was motivated by a force that was compelling and undeniable. His very statement reveals it. He has come to fulfill the will of the Father. His life is defined by this purpose, and it is this purpose that has shaped His way of life, his choices, his activities, and his simplicity.
Anything that might lead Him to stray, he will take off. Anything that gets in the way, it should be removed. The choice was clear cut. It was simple: be in the business of glorifying God. If something does not, or if something hinders it, then have nothing to do with it. No one can serve two masters, Jesus warns. Either he will love one or hate the other. Simplicity allows us to make the better choice, and to live that choice by deliberately giving up that which will hinder or stop us from this one thing we have been called to do.
Not only that, simplicity allows you to focus on who is truly worth the effort. Jesus lead a clutter-free life, not just because he was hostile to the world, but because He wants to enjoy and know the Father who sometimes speak in a small still voice. Simplicity allowed Him to center His life and ministry to that which is significant. It is because He has chosen to let go of the less important so that He can focus on the most important, the will of God.
This simplicity is also reflected in Paul’s powerful statement, “One thing I do –forgetting what is behind, and
But simplicity is more than just the giving up of worldly excesses. As I have said earlier, there are those who live a simple life, not out of choice, but of necessity. Poverty, and material want has solved the problem of choice for us. The virtue of simplicity goes deeper than just the absence of unwanted complications. Striving for a simple life is not without its complications. Simplicity does not mean separation or turning blind eyes toward a world crying out for our involvement and our attention. As we attune ourselves and focus to that which is the one thing in our lives – the pursuit of Christlikeness, we find ourselves sensitive to the world around us. Our simplicity is not some self-indulgent habit that separates us from the hustle and the bustle of life. We become attune to the cries, pains and suffering of this world. We become aware of the world around us, and we are aroused from our world of oblivion to the world of distress and misery.
Simplicity is a choice to live more deliberately. Those who have chosen the path of simplicity do away with the unessential for they have in their hearts that which is truly essential. Simplicity at its heart is the intentionality of our being. The mystics has a term in Latin that best describes this – “in simplitate cordis.” Simplicity of heart. The notion speaks of singleness of heart – of a life that is centered on Him. It depicts a life unfettered by of all that is unessential and trivial. A simple heart is a life increasingly focused on one thing: seeking Christ.
And it is to those who have decided to live simple lives for Christ that secrets of the Kingdom are entrusted. Brennan Manning once said, “"Leadership in the church is not entrusted to successful fund-raisers, brilliant biblical scholars, administrative geniuses, or spellbinding preachers (though these assets may be helpful), but to those who have been laid waste by a consuming passion for Christ–passionate men and women for whom privilege and power are trivial compared to knowing and loving Jesus.”
Simplicity
"One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek;
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life…”
Psalm 27: 4
Nasidman Island is just a few kilometers off the shores of the small town of Ajuy in the province of Iloilo. The small island had no redeeming feature except for a lonely lighthouse set on a rocky terrain facing the inscrutable Pacific ocean. It is forlorn, and eloquently sad – like a crystal goblet mired in mud. There was no electricity in that island. There was no potable water also. Drinking, and even bathing water had to be brought from the town in the mainland. It was in this island that the churches in Iloilo and Bacolod decided to have their youth camp – of all places.
I was doing my internship in one of the city churches there as required by my seminary training, and part of my duty was to accompany a bunch of teenagers to this camp. The sweltering summer season was at its height when we went there. I promptly fell sick a day after we got to the island. Some pestilential virus left me weak and cranky. So not only was there no electricity, no water, the heat was just too much, I was also battling with virus. I couldn’t wait until the camp was over.
Except one time, at dusk we worshipped. The sun was just setting; the red glow from the horizon was like dying coal. There were no microphones, no electric musical instruments, just the pure voices of the young people. We were singing in a capella. I was communing with God. Rather, I was complaining to God. “Why am I here?” I asked God. This was not some angst-driven existential question I was asking, mind you. I was simply bemoaning the fact that I could have been comfortably sitting in the office of the church, trying to do His will while magnanimously enduring the quiet hum of the air conditioner, instead of being hot, sick and miserable. Then all of a sudden, from somewhere (it was getting dark. I couldn’t see who play) came the voice of a recorder.
The notes were simple and unsophisticated, but it was absolutely beautiful. It was a love song, it was a lament. It was both a celebration and mourning. It was pure notes of laughter; it was crystalline drops of tears. While that recorder rose above the voices of the kids, something began to take place. Something began to happen to this unlikely place. It became beautiful. The heat, the sharp stones, the uncomfortable bed didn’t sound or feel as bad anymore. I was lifted up from the wretched place, and truly worshipped the Lord. I vowed then to learn to play the recorder, if only to recapture that moment when the Lord made Himself manifest. I, who had no musical talent whatsoever, vowed I would learn to play the recorder. And so, as soon as I could afford it, I got one, taught myself to play, and go back to that place when God was near.
Did the recorder really sound that beautiful? Or, would it have sounded the way it did if there were amplified music, and sound systems were working? I guess no one would have noticed it, nor appreciated it. And yet, because and not in spite of the utter lack of sophistication that it is beautiful. We crave for the spectacular. The vividness of its beauty, the genius of thought, and the flowing, graceful movements allows us to be transported somewhere transcendent. These brilliant splashes of color transform our mundane world into something both magical and enchanting. And so we treasure these special times.
But life is not a series of intense delights. More often, life is simple – mundane – ordinary. We have our routines. We have our rhythms. We think that the muted colors of the ordinary do not cause us to celebrate. But to hear the subtle rhythms of simplicity is as magical as star bursts of luminosity. The ordinary can bring joy. Laughter, work, commuting, doing your grocery – simple, regular activities – these too can be avenues for the mystical, for the transcendent. These can be occasions for a deeper understanding of self, or our soul, of He who is above ordinary. Let us learn to be fluent in the subdued language and whisperings of our ordinary life, of the path of simplicity – for at the very heart of it, at its core, when all is stripped and all is laid bare, we find the most brilliant of all: Him.
This takes a radical change of perspective. We will need a different way of seeing things. The pure notes of that recorder will not be as haunting is if the air was filled with artificial noise of amplified instruments and electric sound systems. The noise and the complications of this world will drown the tender and silent beauties that are around us. And thus, to truly appreciate God, and all that is His handiwork, we must learn to focus, and trim the details that most often superfluous and unneeded.
But not only that, we must learn to consider the things we do not have as well. We need to settle the aspect of how we look at the things we crave and yet do not have. Can we appreciate our very condition of need, and show joy and even gratefulness for the things we do not have? I do not mean giving thanks in spite of lack, but to give thanks because we do not own or possess material things. For this is the essence of simplicity: to let go of clutter and to appreciate that which we do have.
Simplicity as Choice
In some cultures, the notion of simplicity is letting go of material excess. For example, among the rich and the sophisticated, minimalism (which is the fancier term for being simple) is something of a choice- exciting in fact, for those who are used to extravagance. And so, books upon books, talks upon talks encourage and advocate the voluntary giving up of these clutters. There is wisdom in that. I think it is always a good idea to keep wanton materialism in check, and advocates of simplicity espouse freedom from things that can make you addicted, or from a lifestyle is overcome with the desire to have more, and be more. Some would advise, for example, to give away things that just cram closets and deliberately live simpler by buying smaller cars, or simpler homes, or plainer clothes and others. The ultimate purpose is to be able to breathe and be free from the slavery of consumerism and materialism.
However, many of us do not choose simplicity as a guiding principle for our lives, because for the most part it is the only way. Many of us have grown up with so little in life, and we have learned to make do with such meager resources. Most often, our homes and our lifestyles are marked by sparseness and plainness. We find people who live simply, who live without abundance or opulence- not because they have chosen to be simple, but simply because there was really no other way to live.
The compelling question, therefore, is: in our search for authentic simplicity, what path do we choose? What if there is no choice, for we are forced by our circumstances to be simple? Can we still call it simplicity? Where is the virtue in that?
The Core of Simplicity
The best way to describe simplicity and understand what it means is to look at the ultimate model and source of simplicity, Jesus Christ. From him we get a clue as to what the concept implies. This will lead us to the answer to our quest for authentic simplicity.
The lifestyle of Jesus – a life spent traveling, teaching, preaching, and being with people is not simplistic. Rather it is deep and can sometimes be filled with paradoxes and ironies both blatant and subtle. And yet the quietness that seems to come off him in spite the mad scrambling and complications about him is an oasis. Jesus’ life is marked with a simplicity that is neither severity, nor frugality, but one that is innocent and down to earth. It wasn’t miserly, or dour. It is a simplicity that is more like an outflow of an inner condition, and whose effect is like a cold drink on a scorching day.
For Jesus, simplicity certainly involves a letting go – just as He had stripped himself of the glories of heaven. Material possessions rank lowest in his priorities. He lived simply, and existed on meager means. If He, who is the owner of all things and from all things come from, did not consider them of utmost importance, then perhaps we need to heed His repeated and often direct instructions on money, possession and ownership. This is an ancient and venerable wisdom. So the contemporary heed to let go of material excesses and to deliberately prune one’s lifestyle is a valid, Scriptural, and yes, virtuous endeavor.
The Motivation for Simplicity
There is a far more compelling reason and expression of simplicity than just down play the significance of worldly possessions. Simplicity isn’t just some fundamental suspicion of the material world. Something deep and powerful must be at work here. For the very act of the sacrifices of Jesus, while it certainly entailed a life trimmed of excesses, was motivated by a force that was compelling and undeniable. His very statement reveals it. He has come to fulfill the will of the Father. His life is defined by this purpose, and it is this purpose that has shaped His way of life, his choices, his activities, and his simplicity.
Anything that might lead Him to stray, he will take off. Anything that gets in the way, it should be removed. The choice was clear cut. It was simple: be in the business of glorifying God. If something does not, or if something hinders it, then have nothing to do with it. No one can serve two masters, Jesus warns. Either he will love one or hate the other. Simplicity allows us to make the better choice, and to live that choice by deliberately giving up that which will hinder or stop us from this one thing we have been called to do.
Not only that, simplicity allows you to focus on who is truly worth the effort. Jesus lead a clutter-free life, not just because he was hostile to the world, but because He wants to enjoy and know the Father who sometimes speak in a small still voice. Simplicity allowed Him to center His life and ministry to that which is significant. It is because He has chosen to let go of the less important so that He can focus on the most important, the will of God.
This simplicity is also reflected in Paul’s powerful statement, “One thing I do –forgetting what is behind, and
But simplicity is more than just the giving up of worldly excesses. As I have said earlier, there are those who live a simple life, not out of choice, but of necessity. Poverty, and material want has solved the problem of choice for us. The virtue of simplicity goes deeper than just the absence of unwanted complications. Striving for a simple life is not without its complications. Simplicity does not mean separation or turning blind eyes toward a world crying out for our involvement and our attention. As we attune ourselves and focus to that which is the one thing in our lives – the pursuit of Christlikeness, we find ourselves sensitive to the world around us. Our simplicity is not some self-indulgent habit that separates us from the hustle and the bustle of life. We become attune to the cries, pains and suffering of this world. We become aware of the world around us, and we are aroused from our world of oblivion to the world of distress and misery.
Simplicity is a choice to live more deliberately. Those who have chosen the path of simplicity do away with the unessential for they have in their hearts that which is truly essential. Simplicity at its heart is the intentionality of our being. The mystics has a term in Latin that best describes this – “in simplitate cordis.” Simplicity of heart. The notion speaks of singleness of heart – of a life that is centered on Him. It depicts a life unfettered by of all that is unessential and trivial. A simple heart is a life increasingly focused on one thing: seeking Christ.
And it is to those who have decided to live simple lives for Christ that secrets of the Kingdom are entrusted. Brennan Manning once said, “"Leadership in the church is not entrusted to successful fund-raisers, brilliant biblical scholars, administrative geniuses, or spellbinding preachers (though these assets may be helpful), but to those who have been laid waste by a consuming passion for Christ–passionate men and women for whom privilege and power are trivial compared to knowing and loving Jesus.”
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