Abundance in Scripture
Nephi wrote, "do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy," but follow the Savior, and "feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted, and let your soul delight in fatness" (2 Nephi 9:51).
Of what is this abundance (called "fatness") made? What comprises it?
Personal Context: After being without regular, paid work for nearly nine years, I finally have a part-time job. This feels like wealth, in some ways. But my soul is hurting today for many reasons, and I turn so often for comfort to things that I want that I should not have: not just indulgences that I can afford now, but peace at the cost of agency, equality at the cost of freedom, and loved ones who make the decisions that I would make. In prayer I leak all the anxiety and terror of the world we live in now. It fills me like the fierce air of an empty oven when I just wanted the memory of baking. And God wonders why I am asking for a stone when he wants to give me real, fresh bread.
The denotation of abundance is simply great quantity. In Psalm 52, David talks smack about the chief Musician, Maschil, by saying (among other things), "this is the man that made not God his strength; but trusted in the abundance of his riches" (KJV from churchofjesuschrist.org verse 7). In Deuteronomy 28:47 abundance is just the thing we are commanded by God to be grateful for, although in contrast, the Preacher from Ecclesiastes observes that, "The sleep of the labouring man is sweet, whether he eat little or much: but the abundance of the rich will not suffer him to sleep" (5:12). The Preacher (a voice of worldly wisdom) notices here that hoarding abundance is an evil which causes the hoarder pain.
Although King Benjamin promises strongly that "if ye would keep his commandments ye should prosper in the land" (Mosiah 2:22), I feel very strongly that the prosperity or abundance promised by the Lord is not necessarily material (see Luke 12:15, and the heresy of the prosperity doctrine) but at the same time, I fight the temptation to call it mental, because in my experience, labeling something as a decision you make in your head is too often weaponized against those people who are open to their own suffering. In other words, if one person experiences a good thing, human nature inclines them to take credit for it and then accuse those who do not experience the same good thing of being weaker. King Benjamin specifically warns against those who withhold aid to the poor because the poor person's "punishments are just" (Mosiah 4:17). Elder Henry B. Eyring, in an October 2001 address on prayer, wrote, "God is forgotten out of vanity. A little prosperity and peace, or even a turn slightly for the better, can bring us feelings of self-sufficiency. We can feel quickly that we are in control of our lives, that the change for the better is our own doing."
In the first chapter of Alma, verses 29-32, the people experience something that seems exactly to be prosperity theology: "because of the steadiness of the church they began to be exceedingly rich, having abundance of all things whatsoever they stood in need [. . .] and they did not set their hearts upon riches, therefore they were liberal to all [. . .] and thus they did prosper and become far more wealthy than those who did not belong to their church" (29-31). Their righteousness leads to fiscal abundance. But "righteousness" in this case is their willingness to give away what they have to those who have less. They do not hoard, or act in fear that they will not have what they need.
The Book of Alma juxtaposes this against "those who did not belong to their church" who "did indulge themselves in sorceries, and in idolatry or idleness, and in babblings, and in envyings and strife; wearing costly apparel; being lifted up in the pride of their own eyes; persecuting, lying, thieving, robbing, committing whoredoms, and murdering, and all manner of wickedness" (32). Before this great list of sins which we feel tempted to gloss over as "all the sins," we can see they are all framed as indulgence, and the sins seem to either fall into categories of waste or strife.
It would be tempting at this scriptural juncture to go "all in" for the puritanistic spirit of abnegation that haunts the US under the gaudier lights of our own sinful indulgence, but I do not believe that that is the spirit of abundance. The members of the church still had "an abundance of flocks and herds, and fatlings of every kind, and also abundance of grain, and of gold, and of silver, and of precious things, and abundance of silk and fine-twined linen, and all manner of good homely cloth" (Alma 1:29). What are these things for, if not to satisfy? Food is to eat, and clothes are to wear, and money is to mediate commodity systems. Everything is to have and use in generosity, wisdom, and moderation.
So what is the difference between having "an abundance of silk and fine-twined linen, and all manner of good homely cloth" (29) and "wearing costly apparel" (32)?
In my opinion, modesty is one major difference. I don't mean the amount of skin they covered or the particular cuts or hemlines, but the rhetoric of abundance. When clothing is chosen and displayed to reflect the wealth of the owner and wearer in contrast or conformity to the wealth of those around them, then it is immodest. Sumptuary laws are a legislative manifestation of this concern, and another example of the urge to legislate morality. So what would true modesty look like? It is worrisome to me that I cannot even imagine how to enjoy nice things without some sense of rhetoric (what it communicates) or comparison. And yet, they seem to have done it. The righteous members of the church had an abundance of silk, and yet did not waste it or cause strife. They did not hoard or lord it over the poor. They shared freely without fear of the loss or lessening of it.
In the New Testament, Jesus makes several observations about the ways that men in his society behaved immodestly regarding their wealth and social standing. He said, "Beware of the scribes, which love to go in long clothing, and love salutations in the marketplaces, and the chief seats in the synagogues, and the uppermost rooms at feasts: which devour widows' houses, and for a pretence make long prayers" (KJV, Mark 12: 38-40). The wealthy love their status at the expense of those who suffer for it. Jesus follows this warning with the example of the widow's mites.
When I think of the widow's mites, I instinctively think of great sacrifices made by those who are anxious and suffering. I know money-panic. I know tight budgets and lean months. But what if this poor widow were not weeping and feeling anxiety or resentment, but giving of her own abundance? What if she did not have a physical abundance, but a sense of abundance? A feeling that she was safe to share what she had because of the abundance of her faith? And how much more good could have been done by the wealthy men if they had felt similarly? After all, they aren't impeded by scarcity thinking.
How fiscally irresponsible is it to pay tithing when you have to feed your children or pay rent? How fiscally irresponsible is it to take a friend to lunch when you aren't sure when the next Coronavirus will take your job? This is black-and-white thinking. It is a logical fallacy. It is wise to find a way to be fiscally responsible AND generous. At the same time, even. I think that was the cause of the Nephites' prosperity.
And me: How do I reach that place where I can give from my abundance? How rich is rich enough to be generous? In the Russian folktale of The Soldier and Death, he gives away his last three biscuits, confident that he'll make out somehow. I admire that faith and resourcefulness. Everyone's life holds different stresses, different pasts, different futures, and this difference is why we must not compare. Deliberate (or counsel) with God to set your own goals in both wisdom and inspiration. If He asks you to do something, it is because it is your path to living in that feeling of abundance, even as Jesus told the young man who asked, "If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me" (KJV Matthew 19:21).
Jesus was offering the feeling of abundance for the fact of it: a strange bargain, to be sure.
Of what is this abundance (called "fatness") made? What comprises it?
Personal Context: After being without regular, paid work for nearly nine years, I finally have a part-time job. This feels like wealth, in some ways. But my soul is hurting today for many reasons, and I turn so often for comfort to things that I want that I should not have: not just indulgences that I can afford now, but peace at the cost of agency, equality at the cost of freedom, and loved ones who make the decisions that I would make. In prayer I leak all the anxiety and terror of the world we live in now. It fills me like the fierce air of an empty oven when I just wanted the memory of baking. And God wonders why I am asking for a stone when he wants to give me real, fresh bread.
The denotation of abundance is simply great quantity. In Psalm 52, David talks smack about the chief Musician, Maschil, by saying (among other things), "this is the man that made not God his strength; but trusted in the abundance of his riches" (KJV from churchofjesuschrist.org verse 7). In Deuteronomy 28:47 abundance is just the thing we are commanded by God to be grateful for, although in contrast, the Preacher from Ecclesiastes observes that, "The sleep of the labouring man is sweet, whether he eat little or much: but the abundance of the rich will not suffer him to sleep" (5:12). The Preacher (a voice of worldly wisdom) notices here that hoarding abundance is an evil which causes the hoarder pain.
Although King Benjamin promises strongly that "if ye would keep his commandments ye should prosper in the land" (Mosiah 2:22), I feel very strongly that the prosperity or abundance promised by the Lord is not necessarily material (see Luke 12:15, and the heresy of the prosperity doctrine) but at the same time, I fight the temptation to call it mental, because in my experience, labeling something as a decision you make in your head is too often weaponized against those people who are open to their own suffering. In other words, if one person experiences a good thing, human nature inclines them to take credit for it and then accuse those who do not experience the same good thing of being weaker. King Benjamin specifically warns against those who withhold aid to the poor because the poor person's "punishments are just" (Mosiah 4:17). Elder Henry B. Eyring, in an October 2001 address on prayer, wrote, "God is forgotten out of vanity. A little prosperity and peace, or even a turn slightly for the better, can bring us feelings of self-sufficiency. We can feel quickly that we are in control of our lives, that the change for the better is our own doing."
In the first chapter of Alma, verses 29-32, the people experience something that seems exactly to be prosperity theology: "because of the steadiness of the church they began to be exceedingly rich, having abundance of all things whatsoever they stood in need [. . .] and they did not set their hearts upon riches, therefore they were liberal to all [. . .] and thus they did prosper and become far more wealthy than those who did not belong to their church" (29-31). Their righteousness leads to fiscal abundance. But "righteousness" in this case is their willingness to give away what they have to those who have less. They do not hoard, or act in fear that they will not have what they need.
The Book of Alma juxtaposes this against "those who did not belong to their church" who "did indulge themselves in sorceries, and in idolatry or idleness, and in babblings, and in envyings and strife; wearing costly apparel; being lifted up in the pride of their own eyes; persecuting, lying, thieving, robbing, committing whoredoms, and murdering, and all manner of wickedness" (32). Before this great list of sins which we feel tempted to gloss over as "all the sins," we can see they are all framed as indulgence, and the sins seem to either fall into categories of waste or strife.
It would be tempting at this scriptural juncture to go "all in" for the puritanistic spirit of abnegation that haunts the US under the gaudier lights of our own sinful indulgence, but I do not believe that that is the spirit of abundance. The members of the church still had "an abundance of flocks and herds, and fatlings of every kind, and also abundance of grain, and of gold, and of silver, and of precious things, and abundance of silk and fine-twined linen, and all manner of good homely cloth" (Alma 1:29). What are these things for, if not to satisfy? Food is to eat, and clothes are to wear, and money is to mediate commodity systems. Everything is to have and use in generosity, wisdom, and moderation.
So what is the difference between having "an abundance of silk and fine-twined linen, and all manner of good homely cloth" (29) and "wearing costly apparel" (32)?
In my opinion, modesty is one major difference. I don't mean the amount of skin they covered or the particular cuts or hemlines, but the rhetoric of abundance. When clothing is chosen and displayed to reflect the wealth of the owner and wearer in contrast or conformity to the wealth of those around them, then it is immodest. Sumptuary laws are a legislative manifestation of this concern, and another example of the urge to legislate morality. So what would true modesty look like? It is worrisome to me that I cannot even imagine how to enjoy nice things without some sense of rhetoric (what it communicates) or comparison. And yet, they seem to have done it. The righteous members of the church had an abundance of silk, and yet did not waste it or cause strife. They did not hoard or lord it over the poor. They shared freely without fear of the loss or lessening of it.
In the New Testament, Jesus makes several observations about the ways that men in his society behaved immodestly regarding their wealth and social standing. He said, "Beware of the scribes, which love to go in long clothing, and love salutations in the marketplaces, and the chief seats in the synagogues, and the uppermost rooms at feasts: which devour widows' houses, and for a pretence make long prayers" (KJV, Mark 12: 38-40). The wealthy love their status at the expense of those who suffer for it. Jesus follows this warning with the example of the widow's mites.
When I think of the widow's mites, I instinctively think of great sacrifices made by those who are anxious and suffering. I know money-panic. I know tight budgets and lean months. But what if this poor widow were not weeping and feeling anxiety or resentment, but giving of her own abundance? What if she did not have a physical abundance, but a sense of abundance? A feeling that she was safe to share what she had because of the abundance of her faith? And how much more good could have been done by the wealthy men if they had felt similarly? After all, they aren't impeded by scarcity thinking.
How fiscally irresponsible is it to pay tithing when you have to feed your children or pay rent? How fiscally irresponsible is it to take a friend to lunch when you aren't sure when the next Coronavirus will take your job? This is black-and-white thinking. It is a logical fallacy. It is wise to find a way to be fiscally responsible AND generous. At the same time, even. I think that was the cause of the Nephites' prosperity.
And me: How do I reach that place where I can give from my abundance? How rich is rich enough to be generous? In the Russian folktale of The Soldier and Death, he gives away his last three biscuits, confident that he'll make out somehow. I admire that faith and resourcefulness. Everyone's life holds different stresses, different pasts, different futures, and this difference is why we must not compare. Deliberate (or counsel) with God to set your own goals in both wisdom and inspiration. If He asks you to do something, it is because it is your path to living in that feeling of abundance, even as Jesus told the young man who asked, "If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me" (KJV Matthew 19:21).
Jesus was offering the feeling of abundance for the fact of it: a strange bargain, to be sure.
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