I often struggle with how to think about my possessions, the things I own and how to use them. Today I was struck by something that, if I take it seriously, could radically change my thinking. I am assigned to attend to my things by someone else. And thus these things are only ‘mine’ inasmuch as they are given (indeed leant) for me to care for—according to a plan of the first owner.
If true, this really is a game-changer. Sure, I’ve heard this before, even to the point of it seeming quaint. But sometimes—and how grateful I am—something can really strike us anew.
The great Ambrose of Milan wrote, “We are not ourselves the masters, but rather the stewards of the property of others.” And the following words are attributed to John Chrysostom: “Therefore, whoever you are, know yourself to be a dispenser of the things of others, and that the privileges granted you are for a brief and passing use.”
What if all the ‘things’ I am said to ‘own’ are in reality right now more truly owned by someone else: my house, my plot of earth, my car, my books, my clothing, my money… I might wonder then what is going on, and how and why they are mine at all.
We might find an answer by thinking of a father: a father whose joy it is to give responsibility to his children; a father who gives that responsibility precisely to foster their becoming truly responsible and so growing into themselves.
The earthly father knows that the ultimate pattern of responsibility is prior to himself; it has been entrusted to him, and so he invites his own children into the gift. He invites them to take initiative and be creative, yet always within the bounds that will render such initiative fruitful. For us humans the basic lines have already been drawn; the human father is not the source of ownership but the agent of the owner, the primordial Father. Ours is to discover how his ends, when made our ends, are more beautiful than anything we could have conceived.
So our life is one of stewardship, always. And thus in perhaps the greatest of paradoxes, by following and so serving the primordial Master, we achieve our own greatest mastery.
And one central feature of my stewardship is how I use the ‘things’ that I own. Chrysostom refers to the mistake that “in various ways we go out from our stewardship.” I will try to remember that acting as though these things are simply for my own use, according to my own desires, is going out from stewardship. It is an abandonment not only of my responsibility, but of my very identity.
This calls for my being more intentional in my wealth and property management; almost surely it will demand I be more restrained and more generous. But much more than simply imposing ‘limits’ on what I do, this makes for a whole new approach, transforming my wealth and property management from the inside out. In every aspect of my budget and the disposal of what I own, I am part of something much bigger, more consequential, and more wonderful than I had imagined. ~ ~ ~
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„A father whose joy it is to give responsibility to his children.“
I had never thought of possessions in that way. An eye-opener, thank you!
Thanks Bob.
Absolutely loved the post on being good stewards of ‘our’ possessions! As always, you bring a deeper thought to our everyday life experiences. So thankful for you sharing your insights!
Very grateful to be able to do so, Janine.
For years I have told my sons that I am their fertilizer. However, while I am still here I would like them to put back my tools where they found them.
Amen!!
I am, on your recommendation, almost finished with my second reading of Jayber Crow. I think you articulate here what might be at the heart of the difference between Athey Kieth and Troy Chatham. Thank you for the reflection.
Thank you, Stephen; I really appreciate your connecting this point to such a powerful instantiation of it. I want to revisit those characters now! For any who have not read Wendell Berry’s fiction: we have just finished a reading group of Hannah Coulter (and you will soon be able to get at our member site the study questions and videos of our live sessions). Here Stephen refers to two characters in Berry’s other most popular novel, Jayber Crow.
Many thanks for timely thoughts as we think about downsizing/rightsizing our possessions and our lives. This post brought to mind a discussion between Boethius and Lady Philosophy (The Consolation of Philosophy) about worldly possessions, in which Boethius comes to understand that that which we can lose, or which can be taken from us, were never really ours in the first place.
Thanks, Helen, for pointing out this great connection. There is such a fascinating dynamic here of the things that are not ‘ours,’ but then become ‘ours,’ especially for the sake of others.
I often think too that my possessions are a gift, handed on to me by those who made them, built them, grew them, shipped them, etc. Many, many hands have touched, held, worked on, and nurtured what I have now in my possession. I need to respect my belonging not for what they are, but for whose work and hands have made them. And then, like you spoke about, other hands will have what I pass on. When I am finished with something and give it away to a thrift shop, I often remind myself that it is going on to bless someone else’s life now.
Thank you, Jennifer. You help us all think more concretely about this by sharing your approach.
My first thought when I come to discourse on possession of property has much to do with the contents of Belloc’s Servile State. I’m gravely aware of why I do not own a cell phone, especially one that would have to be leased until the monthly service payments render it my own device. I do not subscribe to video or music services that ensure the media I am enjoying for leisure is under my care rather than curated by algorithms and those whose tastes in aesthetics are reduced to advertising marketing value. I own my vehicle outright. I have no debts for education. I do not borrow for further tuition. My every growing library is not comprised of a backlog of digitized pdfs whose copyrights I hope will fall under fair use for academic purposes, but of an increasing number of book cases (presently numbering 7 but 3 more are in the budget to be purchased already now that I’ve come home from the Hildebrand Project’s Summer Seminar with even more books to review before shelving.) I may rent my house at present, but that is only a temporary preparation for purchasing acreage upon which to study the Georgics of Virgil like the worthy and notable author of a blog whose name has passed into antiquity was once known to do. He sets a good example of virtue still.
But what are all these sweet words worth, all these possessions and so many many books upon so many book cases? What is their value but a talent buried without the benefit of interest to mitigate inflationary losses? All these are to share.
And, lo, there, how I have tried in days gone by to surrender all these properties for to give their value to the poor and follow a more sublime and humble way. My offerings were rejected, again and again. Was it Divine Providence or the intercessory will of Il Poverello that would not permit me to abandoned my library? No matter how I tried to dispose of them, each time all my possessions would, by way of inexplicably varying circumstances, be returned under my charge, and each time with ten to a hundredfold more of what I had sought to give to God.
It remains to me as though my long sufferings, like those of Saint Job of Old, have been granted the consolation of a foretaste of the prophecies of heavenly wealth accumulated by those who faithfully withstand the assaults of the enemy’s worldly discouragements.
So, what are all these words worth? The field is ploughed, the soil is turned, row upon row, the seeds, these words, are planted. And the rains come anon. What more can I do for my vineyard but what I have done in seasons past.
Perhaps, at last, I shall see a season of the harvest of something sweeter than wild grapes. Perhaps not. Even if the harvest fails again by no fault of my own, at least I will not regret failing to have planted. And if the yield is plentiful, as are my many many books upon my many more bookcases, each of their many many words which are cultivated into my many words, such as those here, well, then, perhaps my property is in good store for bringing forth by the scribe informed in the the things of heaven already.
They used to say that there is nothing new under the sun…until God incarnate created one thing new: the covenant of salvation, man made God’s property with a worth greater than in prelapsarian days.
So. I’m supposed to start my own blog now that the length of my comments is up to a worthy post word count, right? What do you suggest I call it? I’m starting the theological coursework of my degree soon. So….Revelation 19:11-16? The Winepress? How about Ecce Equus Albus?
Some mustangs can’t be broken…
There’s always a place for wild mustangs too. But then again, the taming process normally brings out the greatest inner potential…