Marie-Laure Leblanc is the protagonist of Anthony Doerr’s novel All the Light We Can Not See. When the novel opens Marie-Laure is living with her father in Paris toward the beginning of World War II. She is blind and loves to read but she only has one book in braille, not even a whole book. Her only reading option is the first half of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne. Undeterred, she reads and rereads the first half of this novel over and over again. This repeated reading leads her to find deeper and deeper meaning in the book’s contents so that the book informs her imagination and shapes her courage. Because of the many limits imposed upon her, Marie-Laure walks a path of simplicity that opens up depths of meaning missed by those of us with an abundance of options.
Simplicity is a virtue treasured and practiced by many seeking to live a deeply centered Christian life. In the Christian tradition, simplicity involves ridding ourselves of all that separates us from God. It is living the radical trust expressed in the opening verses of Psalm 23,
The Lord is my Shepherd, I have everything I need.
Psalm 23
The path to simplicity is marked by subtraction rather than addition. In physically limiting ourselves in our consumption of food, drink, and possessions, in our use of time, in our speech, in our identity, and in our prayer, we walk a path that leads to deeper levels of simplicity involving how we understand ourselves and how we relate to God.
The practice of simplicity begins with the simple step of letting go. I once attended a funeral on a very hot day in the middle of summer. The air conditioning in the church was not working. Everyone felt miserable. The priest began the service by telling us that the air conditioning was broken and since there was nothing we could do about it, we might as well forget about it and accept being hot. This was meaningful for me; letting go of wanting to change the situation and simply accepting that I would be hot, opened up a space of freedom that allowed me to be prayerfully present.
My walk toward simplicity is not always as easy as the funeral story implies. When life pushes me to give more of myself than I want to give, when I am tired, worn out and worn down, it is hard for me to appreciate simplicity. I yearn for more freedom, for rest, and for comfort. There are so many things in our lives we don’t control, so many impositions, so many times we are forced to work in ways that are not healthy for us both in our professional and personal lives. Even as we long for simplicity, we live in a culture that is increasingly complex and demanding and replete with messages that we are not enough and cannot get enough. So, my path toward simplicity is walked with very small steps.
One deliberate small step I take toward simplicity involves my relationship to time. Simplicity in regard to time recognizes time as a gift and seeks to use time to give back to God, the giver of the gift. Time often feels more like a slave driver to me than it does a gift. Leaning toward simplicity in my relationship with time, wakes me up to see the way internal drives toward achievement and productivity shape me. These internal drives are so prevalent within me, that I find myself feeling pushed by time even when there is no external pressure. The internal pressure I put on myself is expressed in feelings of frustration and inadequacy when I cannot work as fast as I think I should. Learning to recognize this tension in myself, letting go of my desire to work quickly, and accepting that some tasks take me longer than I expect, opens up internal space to enter more fully into the task I am doing and possibly even enjoy it. There is simplicity in recognizing that the work God calls me to do is right in front of me in even the smallest tasks and helps me to see the value of what I am currently doing rather than thinking that something more important lies just around the corner if I could only move quickly enough. If I can recognize and then soften the pressure I put on myself to achieve more than can be expected, I can begin to taste time as a gift, and to experience more fully the giver of the gift.
Through this small step I take toward simplicity in my use of time, I learn more clearly who I am, who God is, and how I relate to God. One small step toward simplicity in one area of my life shows me that turning toward simplicity is turning toward a center where everything is connected and from which everything flows.
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free,
Inspirational Gift Song
‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
The Shakers
