PCA Conversations

by Jamison Galt

[Editors' note: One of the things we'd like to do on this forum is to regularly feature posts that attempt to apply aspects of our Reformed theology and practice to mission in our modern world; posts that do more than reference tradition or polemicize against other Christian practices. Here's one person's stab at it.]

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Consumerism is one of the ideologies most fundamental to Western society and to the United States in particular. Our commitment to consumerism is obvious and incontestable, and in many ways it shouldn’t be considered scandalous in the least. The Lord created all things and gave them to humanity for cultivation: all of this is good. The Bible does not consider attributing monetary value to human artifacts or personal possessions in order to then engage in barter or exchange to be less than spiritual or inherently ‘dirty’; it does place requirements on how such exchanges are to be handled justly and fairly, but that’s another post altogether. And yet the Scriptures warn us that Mammon is one of God’s chief rivals for our commitment, and Jesus warns when speaking of the promises of money that we should commit rather to storing up treasures in Heaven, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” When our national leaders encourage us to engage in patriotism and national defense after a catastrophic attack precisely by shopping, we might begin to wonder if perhaps our commitment as a people to consumerism hasn’t shifted over from faithful participation into something slightly more sinister, if our consumerism isn’t starting to promise us something more profound than it can deliver. And of course the question becomes more deeply vexed if we begin to meditate on the widespread greed, ruthless profiteering, pervasive anxiety, massive bailouts, corporate collapses, and astronomical debt, etc, of our current economic malaise. How is it that ordinary consumption so easily turns into consumer-ism? And what goes wrong when it does?

Consumerism promises many things; perhaps at bottom, though, it promises to satisfy our needs and wants. Consumerism promises, in exchange for some of our resources, the fulfillment of our desires. In pursuit of such fulfillment we hope to not only have our basic needs satiated, we are told moreover that we will find our true selves. By engaging in consumerism you can discover who you are. Perhaps inside of you there exists a latent fly-fisherman, filmmaker, or hula-hooper. You can only find out by purchasing the needed products and giving them a try. Who you are, then, consists in the sum total of possessions you attain and the vocations and avocations in which you engage. And you can always change who you are in the face of new phases in life or new trends to come along. All consumerism asks in return is some of your resources, such as money and time. Never mind that more and more money is required to fulfill our many needs and discover our selves as our involvement in consumerism deepens, or that more and more time is required to earn this money and master the savvy art of consumption itself. Just sacrifice a bit of yourself (in time, money, affections), and you can have your Self in return. Herein consumerism operates on death: the death of ourselves in the expenditure of our time, money and relationships.

At this point it is fair to ask if consumerism makes good on its many promises. Does it ever really satisfy our needs and longings, or does it merely exacerbate them with no fulfillment in sight? Does consumerism provide an adequate basis by which to establish our personhood? (Start by meditating on the reduction involved in describing ourselves as ‘consumers’ instead of ‘persons’.) Consider also consumerism’s affects on community. It inevitably leads to fragmentation and fracturing (I drive a Chevy! I’m a Yankees fan! I wear ghetto bling!), as we create boundary markers around our in-groups and champion our distinctives over and against those of other groups. This in turn creates both isolation and pride of identity. Consumerism, then, creates endless smaller niche-groups as we each continually add identity markers to our supposed Self. Consumerism, then, can’t deliver on its promises but instead subtly dehumanizes and fractures persons and communities, all while sapping us of our most valuable resources.

I’ve argued so far that consumerism as an ideology and basic commitment is a deeply flawed way of being human. But is there a way of being human that can overcome and counteract these destructive tendencies? Is there another commitment of ideology and practice that can take the “-ism” out of consumption? I think so. I think the answer is in an entirely different sort of consumption altogether. Alexander Schmemann states that–in an upending of the materialist philosopher Feuerbach’s phrase–“we are what we eat.” More specifically, we become what we consume. And I’ve argued that precisely above in a negative and general manner. But could this be good news if our consumption was of another kind, of something more lasting, more heavenly? And if by “consuming” we meant something more specifically masticatory?

Communion (or “the Lord’s Supper” or “the Eucharist”) also promises satisfaction of our needs and wants, though it often achieves our satisfaction by changing and transforming our wants into different, more fundamental ones. In communion God claims to bring our wants more and more in line with what are our deepest needs: life and fellowship with God and with one another. Communion does this, in one sense, without requiring anything in return. Communion is the overflow of God’s Life into ours, rather than an expenditure by us. It is God’s gift of himself to humanity, his grace. It is given freely to those without means of payment; you can’t ‘score’ an invitation to this feast—in fact, the ticket in is precisely poverty of spirit. Yet this life from God comes to us in bread and wine, tokens of our weekly toil and products of human cultivation. In this sacrament we see that all of our work on earth is claimed and used by God as he gives us his life; our toil, then, is not spent in a frivolous, never-ending manner, as it is in consumerism. Our labor (itself a gift from God) finds a satisfying ‘purchase’ that will not rust or fade away.

The practice of communion also creates unity and community, rather than discord and fragmentation. When communion is celebrated there is reconstituted an actual union for us: with the Father, in Christ, and by the power of the Spirit, and with others in Christ’s body. In the meal we become one loaf. Our arbitrary, tribalistic identity markers along with their motivating pride are annihilated in the cross, which is memorialized in communion. So in the practice of Lord’s table there is to be no splintering, no fragmentation, no identity markers but faith in Christ and the washing of water by the Spirit into the Triune name. And all mankind is being drawn to Christ; hence Communion allows for no niche groups, but rather is the fellowship of one new humanity in Christ, breaking down the old divisions between slave and free, Jew and gentile. Though our distinct gifts, personalities, and cultures are not overlooked or obliterated, they are transformed and used in the building up of one another into a temple for the Lord. Here we find true unity in real diversity. Furthermore, this produces humility in each participant, as we are taught to boast in no personal distinction but our identity in Christ. Communion in this way promises to help us discover our true and eternal self: children of God with a place at his table. Thus a commitment to communion reveals our personhood; it truly tells us who we are.

Lastly, consumerism operates on our ‘death’ in pursuit of its many unfulfilled promises, but communion operates on the death of another in pursuit of his many promises to us. As such, our participation in this memorial of his death becomes for us not only a proclamation of his sacrifice but a celebration and foretaste of his resurrection life. For by the agency of the Spirit we feast in communion upon his risen flesh and blood. And, mercifully, we become what we eat. Jesus says as much in John 6:43-58. So at a time when books are being published detailing the profligate hoarding and self-protection of Christians with regard to their finances, let’s examine again our commitments to consumerism and communion. Perhaps a more robust and regular commitment to the practice and ideology of communion might show us the way forward in the darkness of economic gloom and doom. Since we serve a God who though rich became poor for our sake, we might find ourselves able to more and more become what we eat: indeed to move from our stinginess in times of surplus to a liberality in times of lack. And as we consume more thoughtfully (in both cases) we should ask ourselves: Which practice is truly revolutionary? Which can ultimately build an equitable and just society? And which can alone fulfill its many promises?

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Jamison  Galt is the assistant pastor of Park Slope Presbyterian Church in Brooklyn, NY.