One Pair of Underwear
July 5, 2009
Mark 6:1-13 and 2 Corinthians
There is but one essential must-have to hitchhiking around the galaxy, according to quirky British science fiction writer Douglas Adams; and that is a towel:
“The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has a few things to say on the subject of towels.A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value - you can wrap it around you for warmth …you can lie on it on…brilliant marble-sanded beaches…you can sleep under it beneath the stars…use it to sail a mini raft…wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes…you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.
“More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value…What [a stranger] will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.”
As strange as this passage from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy may seem, I imagine the disciples of Jesus could somehow relate to it. After all, in our passage from Mark today, we hear strikingly similar instructions from Jesus about living in simplicity. The disciples are told that as they travel around their local galaxy of Palestine, they are to take only a staff, sandals and only one tunic. The Greek word for tunic here is citw.n [chitōn] and it is not an outer robe, but a shorter inner robe. It was the worn next to the body. It was the underwear of robes.
When people travelled in the Roman world of Jesus’ time, frequently they would wear two chitōns, perhaps for added warmth during cold, desert nights. But Jesus instructs his disciples to go without two pairs of under garments, and instead wear only one, relying on the hospitality of strangers and the providence of God for their missionary travels.
In order to understand this passage in its fullest we need to explore a little bit of the ancient Roman world. Both before and during the time of Mark and Jesus there were a prominent group of philosophers known as Cynics. The main focus of Cynic philosophy was virtue. And ultimate virtue was discovered not in the hallowed halls of libraries, but in extravagant simplicity.
The word “Cynic” itself comes from a Greek word meaning “dog” or “dog-like” because Cynics were known to renounce so much of the world that they lived like dogs, doing everything in public—and I mean everything—eating whatever fell from tables, dressing in the most minimal of wardrobes, and wandering around without homes, living in bathtubs and the like . To be called “dog-like” was not a compliment; yet the Cynics wore their dog tag with gusto and satisfaction.
While Cynic simplicity was commendable in many respects and paralleled nicely with the teachings of Jesus—they tried to find happiness not in wealth, power, or fame, but in the mundane—the Cynics were also known to be rather self-righteous and utterly shameless. The ancient writer Epictetus once said that the three distinguishing marks of a Cynic are “his provision bag and his staff and his big mouth.”
Like the wandering Cynics, Jesus also told his disciples to carry a staff on their journeys, which was useful not only in walking but also in protecting themselves from wild animals in rural Palestine. But there is a striking difference between the Cynics of Jesus’ day and Jesus’ own disciples: the Cynics carried provision bags and the disciples did not. Instead they were to rely on the hospitality of the local community, living in the house of the first person to invite them in, thus developing an intimate relationship with local families.
And another way Jesus encouraged simplicity that was significantly different from the Cynics, is that he did not ask his disciples to roam through Palestine alone. Rather they went two by two. The Cynic’s virtue seeking path was an individualistic one. The disciples went in pairs, learning from each other along the way. It wasn’t self-sufficiency, as the Cynics professed, as much as it was interdependency and mutuality: relying on other people and on God to help them sort out their lives together.
And by sending his disciples out into Palestine without provision bags or pennies I imagine that Jesus was hoping to nurture his disciples in considering what was really necessary in life. Where are the essentials of life? How is faith developed? What are our needs and what are really just our wants?
We must remember that right before Jesus sends his disciples out on their missionary journey, Jesus had just been rejected in his hometown. And before that Jesus had already asked his followers “Who are my mother and my brothers?” reconfiguring the way the disciples thought about family and community and broadening their minds to understand that the will of God is the ultimate call of our lives and that we have a responsibility to broader society not just to ourselves and our families.
You see, Jesus is slowly but surely stripping down the disciples’ worldview—restructuring their concept of family, removing them from their comfortable places, and sending them out into the world with only one pair underwear, one staff, one pair of sandals, and one friend. In simplicity they will find their freedom. Living with only necessities will they discover the basics of faith and life and community.
Mark Twain once said that “Civilization is a limitless multiplication of unnecessary necessities.” Let me repeat that: “Civilization is a limitless multiplication of unnecessary necessities.”
In his 1981 book called Freedom of Simplicity, Richard Foster states boldly that “personal finance is the new forbidden subject of modern society…The great taboo today is personal finances. How we spend our money is our business, and no one is going to tell us what to do with it.” But, Foster continues, “In no way can we twist scripture to justify such a belief. Our lifestyle is not our private affair.” Foster suggests that we need to love each other enough to see how Christian simplicity is matter of “mutual responsibility and accountability” in a modern nation of abundance.
On this Fourth of July weekend I think it would be helpful for us to consider not only the glories of life in the United States—freedom of faith, freedom of the press, freedom of choosing the direction of our lives, freedom of voting for our leaders—but we also need to honestly realize that personal accumulation and the search for abundance are historic foundational principles as well. Simplicity, I dare say, is not something that rolls off many tongues when we are asked what makes America unique.
Instead it seems at times that shopping is the great American past-time. After the September 11th attacks, we were encouraged to shop as a way of showing our patriotism. In the midst of the current recession we are continually encouraged to buy more. The average American watches about five hours of television per day, which means we are also consuming an hour and a half of TV advertisements daily—not to mention those found on billboards and websites, newspapers and magazines—all shouting at us to buy, buy, BUY!
As Paul’s letter to the Corinthians suggests, we all have thorns in our lives, and accumulation and the misuse of wealth seems to be one of our country’s collective thorns. It is our American duty, it seems, for us to shop, to upgrade, to collect, to be top-of-the-line, to buy things that are faster, lighter, heavier, stronger, more powerful, more expensive, more-more-more, better-better-better, now-now-now!
And if shopping and buying are American duties, then what are our Christian duties? What are our requirements in the kingdom of God? Perhaps in simplicity there is abundance.
I really enjoy the fact that in Mark’s passage today when Jesus sent his disciples on a walkabout through Palestine, he didn’t send them shopping first. He didn’t say, “Peter, run to local deli and pick up a week’s worth of sandwiches.” He didn’t say, “Hey James, go back to our house, drag down the suitcase and pack it up, because you going to be gone about a month.” He didn’t say, “Andrew, did you forget your wine goblet? And don’t forget to bring your nice sandals, in case you’re invited out to dinner by the wealthy Augustus family!”
No. He simply said bring a walking stick, strap on your sandals, and only wear one pair of underwear. That’s all you need. The key to this trip is relationships and community. You will be going in twos so you can learn from one another. And no inns or motels for you! You will be staying in the houses of those that welcome you, because your relationship with your community is what’s important. You will do great things when you rely on God and when you trust other people. In simplicity there is holiness. In simplicity there is freedom.
And this is a good way to describe simplicity—as a freedom. Because when we detach ourselves from the constant desire to gather more and more stuff, it gives us the freedom to refocus on the essentials of life—love, justice, relationships, kindness. When we turn off the TV and disconnect from 150 channels, then we have the freedom to see relationships that may be frayed and in need of repairing. When we turn off our cell phones—not just put them on vibrate—we gain the freedom to focus on those people who directly surround us, not those who are far away. When we take ourselves away from buying, gathering, and purchasing, we clear our vision to see the people in the world who are suffering, those who are need of laughter, those who are need of company. Though is seems paradoxical, when we want less, there is more to gain.
Because when we are not focused on the “things” of the world, we can focus on the people of the world. Simplicity can lift our eyes from our world of consumption, from the daily grind of life, from the perils of protecting property, and it lead us into better, deeper, and more loving relationships—with each other, with the world, and with God. I can only imagine what effects simplicity could have our personal lives and globally, if our TV time was spent helping others, if we sold our wants to fulfill others’ needs, if we simply downsized our lives.
Simplicity is a gift. Simplicity is a freedom. And simplicity, is simply, divine. Amen.
Diogenes of Synope was a well known Cynic philosopher who was rumored to have lived in a large wash basin for years.
Quoted on http://www.cnn.com/2009/SHOWBIZ/TV/02/24/us.video.nielsen/, accessed on July 2, 2009.
