by Rev. Dr. Marilyn Sewell

A sermon given June 16, 2002

First Unitarian Church

Portland, Oregon

OPENING WORDS

Good morning, and welcome! We come to this house of worship today to make confession, to be strengthened in our truest values, and to begin again. Come, let us worship together.

Myths about happiness. Just to get us going this morning, just to see how much you know about happiness, let’s take this "happiness quiz": just to yourself, answer yes or no to the following statements:

• Young people are happier than old people.

• Women are happier than men.

• Whites are happier than Blacks.

• People without disabilities are happier than people with disabilities.

• Beautiful women and handsome men are happier than average-looking people.

• Rich people are happier than people of modest means.

• As cultures become more affluent, their people become happier.

Well, if you answered "no" to each of these statements, you would be correct, according to the studies—and there have been many studies in recent years of the phenomenon of happiness. All the statements that I just read are myths.

But surely the most suspect of these myths is the one about money. Surely wealthy people, people who don’t have to worry about money--are happier than the rest of us. In survey after survey, when asked by researchers what would improve the quality of their lives, the answer most frequently given is "more money." Not more friends. Not more love. Not more status. More money.

Well, are the richest individuals the happiest? Not really. Of course, we all have certain basic needs to give us a sense of safety and well-being—food, housing, medical care. But once these needs are met, more wealth does not create more happiness. In one survey, people on Forbes’s list of wealthiest Americans reported only slightly greater happiness than other Americans, and 37% of them were less happy than the average American. I find it interesting that when it comes to teenagers, there is a significant inverse relationship to social class and happiness—upper middle-class children generally report the least happiness. We need to think about that one. Having more money for ourselves, for our families, should make us happier. But it doesn’t.

Now at this point, I know you don’t believe me. At least in regard to yourself. You’re thinking, "Marilyn, I’m the exception. If I had more money, I would handle it so well. I would even give a tithe to the church." I won’t ask for a show of hands—but how many of you know, deep down in your heart of hearts, that if you had more money, you would be happier? Not a lot of money, you know, not a lot. How much do you need? Just a little bit more than you have.

It appears that we remain at about the same level of happiness pretty much our whole lives, no matter how our circumstances change—a cheerful, outgoing 40-year-old will probably be a cheerful, outgoing 80-year-old. How can that be? Well, we seem to have a "set point" for happiness the same way we have a "set point" for weight. Social scientists believe that this set point is just the luck of the draw—we are born with it. I saw this great cartoon in one of the books I looked at. Two men are standing on the lawn of this estate—there’s a mansion, a swimming pool, a bridal path--and the owner of all this says to the other: "I could cry when I think of the years I wasted accumulating money, only to learn that my cheerful disposition is genetic."

Genetic, though, doesn’t mean that you’ll be just like your mom or dad in terms of mood. In reflecting upon my own life, I remember something my mother said to me just before she died. From her hospital bed, she said to me, "You know, I’ve had a wonderful life." I’m standing there thinking, "You’ve had a wonderful life? How can you say that? You lost your husband, you lost your children, you went into mental hospitals on three different occasions, you worked as a cleaning lady, you had little money, and now after six years of struggle with cancer, you’re dying." But she meant what she said. She had had a wonderful life. You see, she was an extrovert who loved other people, who felt deep joy over little things, who was a very devout Catholic, who felt she was contributing something important when she cooked and cleaned for a group of priests. Mental illness, cancer, loss of family? It’s not that she never suffered—she did. But basically she was a happy person.

And what about me, her oldest child? I wouldn’t say I’m high on the happiness scale—temperamentally, I mean. I’m an introvert, reflective rather than outgoing, and so, unlike my mother, I tend not to seek out people and spend a lot of time alone. I have a few really close friends, and that’s about it. I carry around a good amount of anger, I would say. I like to think of it as passion. I sometimes get depressed and look sad. I’ve actually had strange men stop me on the street and say, "Why don’t you smile more? You’d be prettier, if you’d smile." I will not share my response with you, for we are in a sacred hall of worship. One time someone was trying to fix me up with a blind date, and apparently she told the guy, "Well, she’s a minister, but don’t let that put you off. She’s perky." "Perky!" I said to her. "Perky! You go back and tell him that not only am I not perky, I’m not even cheerful. And furthermore, I like myself the way I am."

So if we have this inborn set point for happiness, why do we work so hard to get that promotion? Why do we deprive ourselves so that we can lose that extra ten pounds? If we achieve our goals, we may feel happier for a while, but soon a vague dissatisfaction sets in again. Scientists find that people return relatively quickly to their set point after any mood-altering event, whether positive or negative. People do recover after devastating losses—for example, you remember actor Christopher Reeve, who was thrown from a horse and became almost totally paralyzed. He spent some months feeling devastated, but within a year, he found that he "had discovered joy again." Some extreme experiences change a person forever, of course, but Reeve’s story is pretty typical. It appears that human beings are remarkably adaptive.

How would your life change if you won the lottery? We’ve all imagined what we would do. Well, here’s the real life story of lottery winner Gordon Russ. Russ, a factory supervisor, never bought lottery tickets—wouldn’t waste his money that way. But the Massachusetts lottery was running a promotion, so he picked up six free tickets after buying a six-pack at a liquor store. That was Saturday. The following Monday Russ was thumbing through the local paper and saw a small article about an unclaimed lottery ticket. The ticket had been traced to the store where Russ bought his six-pack. "Well, maybe I should check those tickets," he thought. He did, and then called the liquor store and found that, yes, he had won 2.2 million dollars. Later that day he drove into Boston and claimed his first check of $102,000. He drove back home to his simple wood house nestled in an orchard of 88 Macintosh apple trees. He told the flock of reporters waiting for him that maybe he would buy some clothes or take a vacation—but he didn’t want to change.

Eight years later he’s sitting at his kitchen with a psychologist, thinking about his life—has he changed? Yes, he has. But he’s reflecting about something that changed him more than the money.

Just three weeks after his big win, he was celebrating his 39^th birthday. Even though it was Saturday, he drove into work and finished up that fourth-quarter inventory. He drove home around noon, set up the grill, got out the croquet set, and set out a tub of ice for the beer. What a party this would be! His buddy Rick was a stunt flyer and had offered to give the party crowd a private show. When all the guests had arrived, Rick flew in low over the trees. He did a full show, an amazing series of fast rolls, loops, and turns. On his final pass, Rick came in low, lower than ever—so low that Russ could see his friend’s face clearly through the cockpit window. Rick did a beautiful snap right over the picnic table where his wife and baby were sitting, and roared out over the pine trees. But not quite over. The right strut of Rick’s landing gear caught the top of one of the pines. The plane flipped over and crashed into a ball of flame. Russ remembers, "The forest was on fire. Gasoline everywhere . . . there was nothing left . . . ."

The next day Russ quit his job—he told the owners of the factory that he realized that life was pretty short, and it was time to do something else. "I’m gonna go spend some time with my kids," he said. And so for the next four years Gordon Russ, millionaire, spent his days doing the laundry, taking his kids to school, and cleaning house. But eventually he grew restless. One day he read that a member of the city council was stepping down. Russ ran unopposed, and as soon as the ballots were counted, he started working on his pet project, the dump. Working 6 and often 7 days a week, he eventually found the $900,000 needed to safely seal the old dump and create a solid-waste master plan, including aggressive recycling. In 1998 his tiny town of Buckland had the best recycling record of any town in the state.

But after about two years of this relentless work, he became restless again. His old boss asked him back, to oversee a move, and he jumped at the chance. He didn’t need the money—but he needed a new challenge. He says to the psychologist, "I’m a bit of a lost soul right now. Everybody’s got their day-to-day issues," he says. "Money will take some of the pressure off . . . , but my concerns are the same as most other parents in Franklin County. I don’t think there’s been any quantum shift <since the> lottery win in my day-to-day approach to people and my life and responsibilities. I think I’m very much the same."

Since the Industrial Revolution, Americans have gained greater and greater control over our material environment. Our economy feeds on consumerism, and we have in fact been taught that it is patriotic to consume. We are a bold and courageous country, but we are also an adolescent nation, a nation that fails to be reflective, even when we most need to be, as in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks on September 11.

Even our Declaration of Independence calls for "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." John Locke, whose philosophy deeply informed the thinking of our founding fathers, defined the good as that which increases pleasure or diminishes pain. But John Locke did not mean an individualistic and heedless pursuit of material goods, but rather prudence and a concern for the whole. The "pursuit of happiness." Is happiness really something we can pursue? Or is it a gift that comes to us when we pursue something other than happiness?

In our culture we typically look to the external to give us happiness, but we should consider cultivating the internal life. After accounting for the genetics, who are the genuinely happy people? Again, the studies are remarkably consistent. Happy people are people who have friends to whom they can express anything. They are partnered in a supportive intimate relationship, rather than being alone. Incidentally, 25% of Americans live alone today, up from 8% in the 1950’s.

Happy people have the capacity to become deeply engaged in whatever they are doing, whether it is work or play. This is similar to what artists experience when they say they are "in flow."

Being deeply religious clearly contributes to happiness—in one Gallup poll, highly spiritual people were twice as likely to say they were "very happy" as were other respondents. And hear this, you slackers, you ones who come to church only once every month or two—happiness and life satisfaction rise with frequency of attendance at worship.

The Dalai Lama, who appears to be one of the happiest people in the world, despite all the suffering and loss of his people, gives this view on attaining happiness: "The principal characteristic of genuine happiness is peace, inner peace. It is rooted in a concern for others and involves a high degree of sensitivity and feeling."

In spite of having a fairly low set point, I realized after reading these studies that I keep myself really pretty happy. I feel a deep connection when one of you comes to my office and shares with me your deepest truth. I am privileged to know you at the most tender moments of your lives: baby dedications and weddings and most of all, memorial services. I feel great joy when I see you growing spiritually and growing in your ability to lead. I’m thrilled when I see our social justice program making a real difference. I love to preach, and again, in this way, to connect with you. I think about various ones of you when I’m preparing my sermons; I watch you each Sunday there in the pews and I think about your stories, both happy and sad stories, and I feel so fortunate to be your minister.

In my personal life, I feel greatly blessed. I have two wonderful sons, a grandson, amazing friends. And I am in the midst of beauty--no one in these studies wrote about beauty, but in my home, in my neighborhood, in this Northwest area, I am surrounded with beauty, and this beauty nourishes my soul. I guess the only thing I lack is that intimate relationship, and I’m still working on that. Maybe I should try to be--a little more perky.

The question for us, I’ve come to understand, is not, "How can I be happier?" but how can I love more deeply, how can I give myself more thoroughly to work and to play, in ways that bring wholeness and deep satisfaction. How can I accept who I am and use all that I am for the greater good. Those who run after happiness will, I’m afraid, be like the greyhound chasing the fake rabbit around the track—you can’t catch it, and you wouldn’t want it if you did. It’s not real.

True happiness comes not when you get what you want, but when you decide whom you serve, and when you serve with all the passion you have within you. True happiness is a byproduct--not of what we have or how we look or how old we are—true happiness is a byproduct of who we are and, by the grace of God, what we are becoming.

So be it. Amen.

PRAYER

Spirit of Life, we come today knowing that we spend too much time chasing false rabbits around the track. Forgive us when we have wasted on trivialities the precious life we have been given--forgive us for worshipping false gods. Bring us to our truest selves and help us to nurture the life of the soul. May we give ourselves to good work and to love, in whatever form they call to us, each and every day.

BENEDICTION

Whatsoever things are good, whatsoever things are true, look on these things, my friends. Go now, in love and in peace. Amen.

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Copyright 2002, Rev. Dr. Marilyn Sewell.  All rights reserved.