Among us English-speaking peoples especially do the praises of poverty need once more to be boldly sung. We have grown literally afraid to be poor. We despise anyone who elects to be poor in order to simplify and save his inner life. If he does not join the general scramble, we deem him spiritless and lacking in ambition. We have lost the power even of imagining what the ancient realization of poverty could have meant; the liberation from material attachments, the unbribed soul, the manlier indifference, the paying our way by what we are and not by what we have, the right to fling away our life at any moment irresponsibly–the more athletic trim, in short, the fighting shape.
If each morning I need an Americano from my local coffee shop, I’m not necessarily greedy; I’m just less free to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, to live responsibly toward my fellow human beings.