Hopeful Thinking: An embarrassment of riches

I sometimes get a little anxious when things are going well. I start to worry about when it will end — or worse, that it reflects a cinematic-level omen that abundance means the rug is about to be pulled out from under my feet. Almost as clear a sign of impending doom as someone suddenly coughing in a movie. I see this as a sign that I may not have as healthy a relationship with abundance as I could.

I have always been intrigued by the phrase “an embarrassment of riches,” because it holds both delight and discomfort in the same breath. It describes that moment when there is so much good before us that choosing becomes difficult — too many blessings, too many possibilities, too much beauty to fully take in. The phrase is not really about wealth at all. It is about our relationship to abundance, and the gentle confusion that can arise when life offers more than we expected. Or more than we subconsciously feel we deserve.

We also tend to see abundance only in terms of cash. But abundance takes whatever form is necessary to ensure we have what we need when we most need it. Money is only one expression. Even good advice is a form of material abundance. So is the loan of a car at just the right moment. Out of pride, we sometimes resist the generosity of others and question the sincerity of anything that happens to fall into our lap. There is often a thread of shame woven through that resistance.

The word embarrassment did not originally mean shame, for the record. In older usage it suggested entanglement or being overwhelmed. To be “embarrassed” by riches once meant being caught in plenty — almost lovingly tangled in excess possibility. Feeling overwhelmed by goodness is not failure; in faith, I hope it is a signal to pause, notice, and choose with intention rather than impulse. And perhaps to learn to accept it without apology.

Across spiritual traditions, there is a shared wisdom about abundance in all its forms. In Christian teaching, abundance is often portrayed as sacred grace — bread multiplied, wine overflowing, blessings described as running over the brim. Yet there is also a consistent reminder not to confuse material plenty with spiritual fulfillment. It is not a warning against having much, but a suggestion to use what we have, as well as what we receive, to create meaningful connection with others.

In Jewish tradition, one of the more beautiful teachings about abundance appears in the Passover song Dayenu, which means “it would have been enough.” The song recounts blessing after blessing — liberation, protection, sustenance, guidance — and after each one comes the refrain: Dayenu. Even a single gift would have been sufficient, yet more goodness continues to unfold. This teaches that abundance is not only about having much, but about cultivating the capacity to recognize and maintain gratitude for sufficiency. The quiet whisper of Dayenu invites us to pause and ask, “What here is already enough?” Gratitude, in this sense, becomes a stabilizing force. It transforms excess into appreciation and replaces overwhelm with humility — perhaps even excitement about what good may be done with it.

Buddhist philosophy offers the practice of non-attachment, which teaches that suffering arises not from abundance itself, but from a dysfunctional relationship with it. Our expectations become so tied to specific outcomes that we fail to notice the umbrella someone is handing us while we rage upward at the rain. Non-attachment is letting go of how the universe chooses to assist you and existing more fully in a state of allowing. Be the conduit of abundance that benefits you while also benefiting something beyond you.

Yet not all abundance is good. In our present age, many of us live surrounded by an “abundance” of another sort — the barrage of endless information, dopamine chasing, endless choices, endless noise. It can feel like a modern embarrassment of riches where the challenge is no longer acquiring but discerning. Abundance calls for intention. The spiritual work is not to reduce everything, but to choose thoughtfully, to notice what is truly meaningful and energizing to you.

Richness is something meant to circulate rather than accumulate. A surplus of time can become listening. A surplus of knowledge can become teaching. A surplus of resources can become support. When abundance moves outward, it tends to lose its anxiety and gain its purpose. The great conduit begins to function as it was always meant to.

Across traditions, the message is consistent: abundance is both blessing and responsibility. Christian grace, Jewish gratitude expressed through Dayenu, and Buddhist non-attachment all whisper the same gentle counsel — richness finds its meaning when it flows. We need not reject what we have; we must neither resist it nor cling to it. We are simply invited to steward it wisely.

An embarrassment of riches is not a moral reality. It is a relational one. It reminds us that we were never meant to hold everything alone. It gently nudges us toward community, gratitude, and generosity. It teaches that the truest measure of wealth is not accumulation, but circulation.

Riches are only embarrassing when they sit still. When they move — through kindness, insight, and compassion — they become something far more sacred: a quiet reminder that there has always been enough light to share, and that we deserve it too.

Wil Darcangelo, M.Div, is an ordained Unitarian Universalist Binister of the First Church of Lancaster at the Bulfinch Meetinghouse in Massachusetts, progressive theologian and essayist on optimistic spirituality in the Information Age. Follow him on Substack, Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube.