There Is A Way Forward
When Jesus made his first visit to the Temple in Jerusalem, according to John (the synoptics only have Jesus visit Jerusalem once at the end of his life), he was upset (one could argue he was livid) that his Father’s Temple had been turned into a marketplace to buy and sell religious goods to pilgrims who desired to follow the customs of animal sacrifice for the atonement of sins.[1] There are a couple problems Jesus saw here that did not have much to do with trade in and of itself. He was first upset that the purpose of the Temple—to worship God—was blurred by an outdoor market. Second, there was an element of injustice in that the market was held in the court of the Gentiles, as though the worshipping of God by Gentiles was not all that meaningful. Third, though Jesus doesn’t say this, it seems as though there’s an element of indulgence practice going on, where the poor who cannot afford exotic animals for slaughter, still needed to purchase a dove, which meant, essentially, that one had to purchase his atonement. Did this mean that if a worshipper was too poor to purchase any animal, that she could not be forgiven for her sins? How did Jesus think about consumption before capitalism gave birth to consumerism? Did he see an erosion of religious values and practices? It seems to me that though Jesus loved rich people as well as the poor (think Zacchaeus), he wasn’t all that comfortable with money nor was he uncomfortable without it. He seemed to be immune to its force and power to corrupt.
The fact that the Bible does not know of a “consumer culture,” renders Vincent Miller’s work is all the more urgent for the 21st century Church (especially in the West). Miller argues the pervasiveness with which consumer culture forms us to see the world through the lens of “commodification,” blind to it in fact, and how this commodification of culture is transferred into our religious communities’ imaginations.
Unlike many social and cultural critics who offer little in the way of any solution to the perceived problems, Miller includes a constructive chapter for the Church to consider in navigating the church’s role in consumer culture. Miller presents a key issue for consideration: “Rather than a conflict between cultures, we face a cultural infrastructure that is capable of absorbing all other cultures as ‘content’ to be commodified, distributed and consumed. This changes our relationship to religious beliefs and practices profoundly. They continue to be revered and celebrated, but are increasingly deprived of their ability to influence and shape our individual, interpersonal, and communal lives.”[2] In Chapter 7, Miller addresses the question of how theology and practice can resist commodification, and he takes a “concrete” and “tactical” approach for religious communities.
Miller does this in two ways. First, he offers ways to counter consumer culture and its powerful force of commodification, in general. Second, he offers ways to counter the consumption of religion more specifically. To the first, Miller suggests lifestyle changes and a conscious awareness of consumption and commodification that many Christians in the West today are already doing today, intuitively, while of course the masses perhaps are not. Purchasing fair trade products, choosing to live more simply, avoiding cheap chicken, and choosing not to purchase products made in unjust labor factories, are a few individual practices that can be done to decrease the demand of commodification. He also suggests setting up “alternative economies” that do not play by the same brutal rules of consumer economies.
These examples encouraged me as I was reminded of the Highline Food Bank that our church started twenty years ago, along with a scholarship fund for at risk children in Honduras, along with a recovery house for women on the street, along with a micro-lending ministry for vocational development of under-resourced peoples, along with a developing multi-faceted partnership with four public schools in our area. But these efforts, while they provide some level of congregational awareness, they have not definitively changed how the congregation members live their daily lives. Even our mission projects have become commodities where certain people have a sense of “ownership.” We’re still “consuming food from nowhere” and “wearing clothes made by no one.”[3] So there’s clearly a need to demystify the origins of our commodities.
The Advent Conspiracy is an interesting and popular ministry for evangelical congregations who are seeking to live Christianly during the peak season of consumption in America. Personally, I’ve not introduced this ministry to our church yet because I fear it will be perceived as “just another rant against consumerism” that won’t actually change anyone’s lifestyle, but just make them feel guilty about their bondage. But maybe guilt is not a bad place to start. Afterall, we’re guilty of supporting economic systems that oppress, for example, banana farmers in Ecuador. The choice then becomes, feel rightfully guilty about our choices of spending, or change our choices of spending. Awareness is key to Miller’s understanding of how to counter the commodification of culture. He writes, “Once people are aware of the disconnection between their beliefs and the practices through which they attempt to enact them, they are freed to pursue more direct alternatives.”[4]
With regard to countering the commodification of religion, Miller suggests a two-pronged approach. First, there is a need to “reembed” our religious artifacts, doctrines and practices “within their historical tradition and the ongoing life of the community.”[5] This argument positions mainline Protestant and Roman Catholic communities at an advantage over free-church, non-denominational or even Baptist communities who have to do a lot more work to “re-embed” as they have already disconnected themselves (usually through schism) from a pre-consumer culture historical tradition. The second is to “strengthen popular agency,” with clergy, other leaders, and new communication structures. [6]
In his article, “Rehabilitating Willow Creek,” Aaron James draws on Miller and DeCerteau to analyze “megachurches” like Willow Creek and Saddleback as glaring examples of the “commodification of religion.” But James looks at the subtle tactics of consumers in these institutions rather than their professed beliefs, and challenges Miller’s conclusion that megachurches are unable to make genuine and sincere disciples of Christ because religion is sold to them rather than stewarded, and therefore even a conversion to Christianity is related to by the convert (unconsciously) as a commodity. While he assumes Miller’s assertion regarding the complicity of mega-churches with the commodification of religion and the subsequent erosion Christian faithfulness, he does suggest that these churches are able to use consumerism tactically for the sake of the gospel, by the use of memory. He argues that while it is easy to look at mega-church architecture as a mirror of consumer culture in their lack of Christian symbols, the reality is that these churches are in fact preserving an historical memory that goes back to the Puritans and other non-liturgical expressions of Christian faith. James argues that while the form of mega-church architecture looks and smells like consumer culture, it acts “tactically upon it” by using it for its own purpose of preserving their evangelical Puritan history. [7]
The problem with James’ efforts to redirect critiques of mega-churches is simply the lack of awareness that Miller suggests is paramount to countering the commodification of religion. In my experience growing up 4 miles away from Saddleback Church as it began in a high school gymnasium, never once have I heard of Saddleback refer to this history, or teach church history. There is no “awareness” in most of these congregations of new religious seekers (unless they are part of historic, mainline denominations), that they really have any history between the time of Jesus and our consumer world today. The imagination in these congregations is the sense that because we have forgotten our history, we will start from scratch by integrating today’s world with the world of the Bible and forget everything that happened in between. Therefore, their Puritan history is rendered ineffectual.
[1] John 2:13-25
[2] Vincent Jude Miller, Consuming Religion: Christian Faith and Practice in a Consumer Culture (New York: Continuum, 2004), 179.
[3] Ibid., 184.
[4] Ibid., 193.
[5] Ibid., 194
[6] Ibid., 209-219.
[7] Aaron James, “Rehabilitating Willow Creek:: Megachurches, De Certeau, and the tactics of navigating consumer culture,” Christian Scholar’s Review 43, no. 1 (Fall 2013): 21-39.
About the Author
Chris Pritchett
9 responses to “There Is A Way Forward”
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Chris, You had a few bombs in your post that really made me think. We end up just making them feel guilty about their bondage… powerful! I think I have preached like that many times? Did I offer solutions? Do I need to point out their bondage in order to lead them to steps towards freedom?
Im not sure. Animals in Zoo’s don’t know they are prisoners. I think that is how consumerism and greed might be. However, I also think that it is the Holy Spirit whose job it is to convict. Maybe I should just preach freedom and Christ and show example of what true disciple’s actions look like. I’m rambling back and forth.
A great post as usual Chris! Your analysis of mega-churches was very interesting. The following quote said it best…”James argues that while the form of mega-church architecture looks and smells like consumer culture, it acts “tactically upon it” by using it for its own purpose of preserving their evangelical Puritan history.” I think these churches come under fire often but I also know that many people would never darken the door of a church if it wasn’t for churches like Willow Creek introducing them to modern, seeker-friendly worship with egalitarian leadership.
Good point Jake! I’m not all against the mega-church, I just think they’re easy examples of the particular point Miller is making. I’m super grateful for the instrument the mega-churches play in the orchestra of the body of Christ.
Chris,
Loved this post!! Maybe it was because we both used 2 of the same quotes from Miller in our posts?? I guess we were tracking together.
Your comment: “Religion is sold to them rather than stewarded” blew me away with its perceptiveness. Megachurches attract most of the church shoppers who unthinkingly commodify the experience. After almost a decade in a megachurch, I gave my head a shake and submitted to a church with a deep liturgical tradition to recover rootedness in my faith.
Hi Chris,
I too was intrigued with your writings on mega churches. I have had personal experience with both Saddleback and Willow Creek. To be honest, they have both had an impact in a positive way on my discipleship growth. But, nonetheless, I definitely see your points.
I struggle with this: Is it okay to celebrate the fruitfulness of many good hearted attempts by mega churches to make disciples?
Hi Jay, thanks for your comment! I’m not much of a black and white kind of thinker, which means many of my responses are nuanced, which means I am easily misunderstood. I appreciate your question because it allows me give a resounding ‘yes’! While I think mega-churches are an easy example of the point Miller is making, in no way do I believe that renders their ministry fruitless or not worthy of celebration. The Spirit uses all of us who are flawed. The Presbyterians are some of the most flawed of all, and yet God blows me away by how the most unlikely people come to Christ despite of us! So yes, I think we should critique without being too critical. But as iron sharpens iron, we’ve got to challenge a little here and there. 🙂
Chris,
Thanks for your post and the connection with practical suggestions as highlighted by Miller. If your own church’s connection with ministries to the poor have not created any discernible change in the lives of your parishioners what do you think the solution is? I have no doubt that they care about the plight of the poor but why do you think it does not significantly change how they live. I think most of us tend to give our leftovers to the poor as an act of worship but I don’t think God wants our leftovers.
I don’t know the answer to your question but I wonder if part of it is the level of concern we have is not great enough. At the end of the day, we are conditioned to believe that it is the market’s responsibility to take care of the poor, so while I might help, I probably won’t sacrifice myself and my comforts because fundamentally I don’t believe it’s my problem.
Thanks, Chris– I agree with your insight about the way that most of the time when we try to address this topic in our churches, that it comes across as “another rant against consumerism”. It seems like the best we usually manage is “giving something up for Lent” or some other small scale experiment in simpler living. The systematic level, to which you allude, is even harder to tackle. Even when your congregation has that history and experience of real, vital ministries to the poor and needy, even this becomes a kind of commodity. It’s insidious.