Personal Confession Re: “Occupy” Movement

 

courtesy occupywallst.org

History will tell if the Occupy Movement spurs any sort of actual change in America. I line up on some the issues of societal justice that the movement desires. I also disagree with some things. Here is something I do believe:

The wealthy have a unique responsibility.

The wealthiest of the wealthy – the top 1% – even more so.

My friend Wess Stafford says this:

“The opposite of poverty isn’t wealth. The opposite of poverty is enough.”

He’s probably right. I don’t have any problem with wealthy people enjoying life, spending their money and having some fun. I just think that the world is much better when rich people are radically generous. I couldn’t imagine someone waking up everyday knowing that they were part of the 1% of the wealthiest people in the world and not doing something for the other 99%.  And yet so many do.

The web is full of peaceful protestors posting photos as part of the 99%, like this one.

courtesy occupywallst.org

Here’s a quote from the original Occupy Wall Street tumbler site:

“We are the 99 percent. We are getting kicked out of our homes. We are forced to choose between groceries and rent. We are denied quality medical care. We are suffering from environmental pollution. We are working long hours for little pay and no rights, if we’re working at all. We are getting nothing while the other 1 percent is getting everything. We are the 99 percent.”

I get what they are saying. It simply isn’t fair that the extremely rich – the one guy out of every 100 – holds almost all the wealth. Especially when so many of the 99% are legitimately hungry, homeless and oppressed. I know it can get politically complicated in the details, but I get the sentiment. Again, I am not against the cause. It’s just hard for me to be completely behind it because…

Here’s my big confession. I say this with a little embarrassment and a lot of humility.

I am part of the 1%.

I am one of those guys. I am ridiculously wealthy. This may surprise some of you who don’t know my story very well – where I have come from, my family heritage, etc. I hide my wealth very well. It makes me uncomfortable to flaunt it. It is hard to write about it now.

So you can see why the Occupy Movement creates mixed emotions in me. Unlike most everyone else alive on the planet, I have a unique responsibility to be especially generous. And, to be frank, I don’t think I am doing exceptionally well. (Full disclosure: In 2010, I only gave away about 14% of my income to charity. That just doesn’t seem like enough for someone as blessed as me. I have simply gotten used to living on the 86%. It is hard to give more away.)

Maybe you have figured out my angle by now. If not, I’ll let you off the hook.

The Occupy Movement is made up of people from the 99% of Americans frustrated that 1% of their fellow Americans hold most of the nation’s wealth. It is true that I am not part of that 1%.

But I am part of the 1% worldwide.

According to an article on CNNMoney yesterday, to be in the top 1% of the world’s worth, your annual income (after taxes) must exceed:

$34,000

That’s it.

Half of the world’s wealthiest 1% live in America.

From money.cnn.com 1-04-12

I am part of the 1%

Are you?

What in the world are we going to do about it?

My friend Wess, whom I mentioned above, can help you be more generous if you want. He helped me.

He is the president of this company. He takes money from rich people like me and gives it to the poor.

This post isn’t really about trying to get money for Wess’ company per se, but I would like to challenge you to consider doing something similar in 2012. Especially if you are as rich as me. Maybe even post a public photo admission like this one telling the rest of the world that you are part of the 1%…and what you are going to do about it.

Here’s my photo admission.

Taken from my iPhone.

Written on my iPad.

joe boyd

@JoeBoyd blogs daily at www.joeboydblog.com.

Advent’s Economic Good News

It’s Advent, and I am waiting for Jesus, trying to keep my eyes open to see him when he shows up. I’ve committed to some particular prayers; I’m meeting one-on-one with each person in my community. I’m listening to the lectionary—listening for clues about where to look. The words of an ancient monk are on my mind: “he comes to us now in order that his future coming may find us prepared.”

But I know all the stories about how religious people aren’t prepared. We fall asleep. We let the oil burn out of our lamps. We ask with apparent innocence, “When was it that we saw you hungry and didn’t feed you?” When was it? No doubt, when we were earnest. No doubt when we were trying to wait faithfully.

As we attend to the cracks in Christendom and the crumbling of so many Christian institutions, emerging Christianity faces the same temptation I do: the sneaking, pride-filled thought that old forms of faith are dying because our ancestors weren’t paying attention. We too easily see their blinders, too easily see their mistakes. And we think to ourselves: we can see clearly. It will not happen to us.

But we fall asleep, all of us. However clearly we may see the problems we hope to overcome, we are blind to the things we can’t see. How could we possibly be right about the things that we haven’t even thought to address? “When was it that we saw you hungry and didn’t feed you?”

Our only hope is that something or someone might wake us up. Grace means this: God interrupts us. The old, old song gets sung again, and somehow we hear it anew. It’s Advent, and we are waiting with Mary. We are singing Mary’s song:

My soul glorifies the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…
God fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty…

We are singing familiar words, but we are singing them after America’s autumn. We are singing Mary’s Song in the midst of national discontent with our current economic system. We are singing with images of Occupy Wall Street protests and Move Your Money Campaigns in our minds. We are singing not just for ourselves, but for the two billion people who live in the slums of megacities on less than a dollar a day. We are singing a new song of God’s economy slipping in on the margins, in little communities where no one is watching. Like a baby in Bethlehem. Like a movement in first century Galilee. Like all those monks who’ve tried to welcome Jesus today so they’d be prepared to greet him at the last day.

All of a sudden, we are awake. We’ve been given eyes to see God’s economy as the alternative we need.

This is my Advent prayer for the emerging Christian movement in North America: that we’d open ourselves to be interrupted by the good news of God’s economy in the places where we are.