If you haven't yet seen the film and read the novel Into the Wild, by Jon Krakauer, I highly recommend both. They each highlight particular aspects of one young man's intense spiritual quest to find fulfillment, completion and meaning in the raw, open wilderness of Alaska. If you haven't seen either, and you're not familiar with the story of Chris McCandless, I won't spoil the outcome for you. But both versions of the (true) story probe deep into a curious, restless and passionate soul, in in so doing provide an insightful look at the human condition.
The film (directed by Sean Penn) does a marvelous job of bringing forward the key elements of McCandless' story, emphasizing the unexpected transformation he undergoes in the wild and bringing it home with full emotional impact. The book, while holding its share of poignant moments, fills out the details of McCandless' psyche a bit more, exploring the story from a journalistic perspective that can be a bit dry and overly informative but is nonetheless quite illuminating.
To top all that off, the film's soundtrack, written and performed by Eddie Vedder, of Pearl Jam fame, is phenomenal. Vedder was the right man to convey the raw grit and subtle beauty of this story. Journalistically, in film, and musically, this is an all-around well-told story of tragedy and unanticipated redemption.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
the simple life, part 1
The “Gospel of Consumption” article I discussed in my last post has been part of a larger stream of thought for me this month. As we live in this consumer culture, I believe we find a war of sorts going on inside of us – a war of desires. On one hand, having bought into this consumer gospel, we consistently live according to its doctrine: the more you buy, the bigger the house, the nicer the appliances, the happier you will be. Yet, we also consistently find that this doesn’t actually prove to be true in reality. Then, when we look around at all of our accumulated stuff, we begin to hate it because all it really does is complicate our lives and give us more to worry about, more to maintain. So at the very same time that we desire more, we also find in ourselves a strong desire for less. We hunger for a simpler life that is not spent maintaining all of the things that don’t actually make us any happier.
This desire for simplicity is no secret. In fact, it seems to be a fairly consistent theme in the films and literature of our culture. Films such as Fight Club and, more recently, Into the Wild, explore the depths of this human desire and potential responses to it. Songwriters such as Jeff Tweedy (Wilco), Thom Yorke (Radiohead), Bono (U2) and Jay Farrar (Son Volt) regularly explore the emptiness of a consumer culture and identity, while juxtaposing it against the deeper spirituality inherent to us humans. Indeed, filmmakers and songwriters, who in many ways act as prophets of our day, regularly pit those two realities against one another. Is our identity what we own? Or is it something deeper? Something both simpler and more complex? We long for a life that finds its meaning not in what we own or in a successful career, but in the depth and security of our relationships (with God and others). We all know that the label on our jeans doesn't say anything about who we are, yet somehow we can't help defining ourselves this way. (It may be far more subtle, by the way. Do you drink Kaldi's Coffee, or Folgers? Shop at Wal-Mart or Whole Foods?)
So how would we cultivate this inward reality? Foster points to Matthew 6:25-33, where Jesus explains that we don't need to worry about having what we will need, for God will provide our needs if we simply "seek first His kingdom and His righteousness." This is the foundation for a simple life. The reality is that we will spend our lives in pursuit of something. That's how we are made - we all worship something, whether it's God or something else. The only way to true simplicity is to renounce these other gods (whether it be the latest gadget or anything else) and seek first God's kingdom and righteousness. This means that our day-to-day priorities are determined by God and not our own passing fancies. And surely if we hope to break out of our current stream, then we must have hope in a different one. The fact that Christ is Lord, and that His Kingdom is here now and will be fully here in time, gives us a totally different world view from which to work. To pursue this kingdom means seeking a place where the last are first, where possessions are shared, and where justice is established. It is a place much different from the one we know.
It’s easy to respond to the consumer culture with frustration and anger, and come up with many possible solutions. Like I said, many already do this in various ways within our culture. But, as Foster says, we need a “place to stand” in order to see true change within ourselves and in society as a whole. Seeking the kingdom is a reorientation of our desires and pursuits so that they are pointed toward the right place, and the only place in which they can be fulfilled. Could it be that the pursuit of contentment we see so freely at work in our consumption habits is actually a reflection of a deep desire to pursue something meaningful? What if we redirected that pursuit toward that which actually lasts? That is what Jesus is saying – don’t store up treasure where everything fades away, store it in a place that endures! Seek first the kingdom – my Father’s eternal kingdom! This isn’t a killing of our desires for happiness – it’s the only place they can be fulfilled. True, in seeking genuine simplicity, we will kill some of our desires and die to ourselves. Jesus said boldly, "Whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it." (Luke 9:24) So in the end we do not lose. What will remain is our life, more pure and full and human than we can possibly imagine from where we stand. So this must be the starting point for any journey toward simplicity. Only here are we free to look at our possessions and pursuits in a new light.
So what would this new pursuit look like? How might we bring Christ’s Lordship to bear in every area of our lives, both personally and publicly? How might we pursue his righteousness and make that our primary concern over what we have or what we think we need? These are good questions to chew on before moving forward with this discussion.
Friday, May 2, 2008
consumed
There is a fabulous article in the latest issue of Orion Magazine entitled "The Gospel of Consumption." It explores the cultural shift that took place during the 1920s that led to the consumer culture we now know. To understand the world we live in, it is helpful to look back and realize that there was a time when people functioned differently.
It is staggering to realize that what we often assume now as "just the way the world works" is really only a result of the cumulative choices of people, especially people in power. The Industrial Revolution that began in the 1800s led inevitably to a crossroads. We had gained previously unknown abilities and powers to produce. So a choice was laid before Americans. Now that we could produce our basic needs at a much higher rate, would we seek to use that power for good? Would we seek new and creative ways to use our newfound extra time?
Americans made a choice, and it was the folks with the money that led the way. The article references a 1929 magazine article by James Kettering, director of General Motors Research. The title of the article was "Keep the Consumer Dissatisfied." And there you have the beginning of the culture we now know, live and breathe. As the article says, "he was defining a strategic shift for American industry - from fulfilling basic human needs to creating new ones." The author of the article, Jeffrey Kaplan, goes on to say:
"Business leaders were less than enthusiastic about the prospect of a society no longer centered on the production of goods. For them, the new 'labor-saving' machinery presented not a vision of liberation but a threat to their position at the center of power."
Listen also to these words from President Hoover's 1929 Committee on Recent Economic Changes:
"Economically we have a boundless field before us; that there are new wants which will make way endlessly for newer wants, as fast as they are satisfied."
Consider the prophetic nature of that statement, made almost 80 years ago. These are the beginnings of a movement we have yet to see the end of, but one which is beginning to run its course whether we want it to or not. What began in the 1920s has played out in the creation of a society where the consumer is "king" (or slave?). The wants of the individual, or the creation thereof, drive everything about the world we know. But inevitably, the wants and felt needs of people will collide with reality. The natural world and human community have limits to what they can support.
Think about it from a different perspective: we just watched The End of Suburbia for our monthly Movies and Mindmaps discussion at Karis. This documentary explores this problem from another angle: It specifically focuses on how the suburban movement, which is deeply connected with the larger consumer movement in Western culture, has led us to the current era of peak oil and waning natural resources. The consumer mentality that began in the 1920s, though put on hold a bit during the Depression and World War II, was ultimately indoctrinated in post-WWII America. This "gospel of consumption" became: "Tired of the toil of city life? Move out to the country, live the good life away from the bustle of your workplace. Have your own space, and plenty of it. Fulfill the American Dream and have whatever you need." And heck, that was probably a pretty compelling vision in a society that had just seen some pretty bleak years.
But, as the article argues, all we've done is create a busy world where we run around like crazy in order to keep up our lifestyle of comfort and consumption. We sense that we don't really need it all, but nonetheless we work incessantly to get more, more, more. We could have a bigger house with more privacy. We could climb one more rung in the corporate ladder. We could get the latest technological device to manage our insane schedules. On and on the list could go. But what's the point? That's the great question the Orion article asks. Here's a staggering statistic: we were the richest country on the planet in 1948. Most of the world has not caught up even to where we were then. If we returned to 1948 levels of production and consumption, we could work 2.7 hours a day, and make everything we need!
Now, of course that may not be realistic or even desirable. But it illuminates an important truth for us. Our production and consumption is way beyond what is needed for us to live happy and abundant lives. This production could be aimed toward providing for the real needs of poor people throughout our country and the rest of the world, and we could do this while still working less. Many in our society work 60, 80, 100 hours a week, just to keep producing and consuming. What if we fundamentally had our priorities changed? What if we remembered that our most basic needs are spiritual, relational, and simple physical (read: food and clothing)? What if we were grounded in a deeper reality than the one marketers sell to us every day?
The businessmen of the 1920s paved the way for a society that looks to marketers to create needs, and so we have consumed the world around us with little regard for the less fortunate, the environment, or future generations. We gladly bought their vision, because we are selfish and greedy just like they are. But now we face the hard truth that our own earth can't even support our endless cravings much longer. And we face the even harder truth that the consumer vision is spiritually bankrupt. As God's image-bearers, we are first and foremost relational, moral and creative agents, not consumers. We are made to pour out for the betterment of the world God gave us, not for the endless bloating of our own selves.
The Kingdom of God, which Jesus first pronounced and displayed, turns all of this on its head. It's only in that culture that we can be returned to our rightful state as healthy and whole image-bearers of a good and gracious God. It's only there that my neighbor - rich or poor, strong or weak - matters more than myself. It's only there that we are defined not first by what we have or buy or produce, but by an identity as children of a loving King. It is not a Kingdom that can be bought and sold, but one that is freely given where there is faith in the good promises of the King. In his Kingdom, the last shall be first. So when will we stop our endless strivings and willingly become poor so that we can become a part of this Kingdom? Will we be last in a world obsessed with being first?
The article closes with a great point: "If we want to save the Earth, we must save ourselves from ourselves. We can start by sharing the work and the wealth. We may just find there is plenty of both to go around." The question that remains, though, is: who will save us from ourselves? We haven't proven to adept at that. The force for real change must come from the outside, not within. The gospel of consumption teaches us to live for our own gain at others' expense. The gospel of Christ teaches us to die that others might live. Which will create a good and just society?
Read "The Gospel of Consumption."
It is staggering to realize that what we often assume now as "just the way the world works" is really only a result of the cumulative choices of people, especially people in power. The Industrial Revolution that began in the 1800s led inevitably to a crossroads. We had gained previously unknown abilities and powers to produce. So a choice was laid before Americans. Now that we could produce our basic needs at a much higher rate, would we seek to use that power for good? Would we seek new and creative ways to use our newfound extra time?
Americans made a choice, and it was the folks with the money that led the way. The article references a 1929 magazine article by James Kettering, director of General Motors Research. The title of the article was "Keep the Consumer Dissatisfied." And there you have the beginning of the culture we now know, live and breathe. As the article says, "he was defining a strategic shift for American industry - from fulfilling basic human needs to creating new ones." The author of the article, Jeffrey Kaplan, goes on to say:
"Business leaders were less than enthusiastic about the prospect of a society no longer centered on the production of goods. For them, the new 'labor-saving' machinery presented not a vision of liberation but a threat to their position at the center of power."
Listen also to these words from President Hoover's 1929 Committee on Recent Economic Changes:
"Economically we have a boundless field before us; that there are new wants which will make way endlessly for newer wants, as fast as they are satisfied."
Consider the prophetic nature of that statement, made almost 80 years ago. These are the beginnings of a movement we have yet to see the end of, but one which is beginning to run its course whether we want it to or not. What began in the 1920s has played out in the creation of a society where the consumer is "king" (or slave?). The wants of the individual, or the creation thereof, drive everything about the world we know. But inevitably, the wants and felt needs of people will collide with reality. The natural world and human community have limits to what they can support.
Think about it from a different perspective: we just watched The End of Suburbia for our monthly Movies and Mindmaps discussion at Karis. This documentary explores this problem from another angle: It specifically focuses on how the suburban movement, which is deeply connected with the larger consumer movement in Western culture, has led us to the current era of peak oil and waning natural resources. The consumer mentality that began in the 1920s, though put on hold a bit during the Depression and World War II, was ultimately indoctrinated in post-WWII America. This "gospel of consumption" became: "Tired of the toil of city life? Move out to the country, live the good life away from the bustle of your workplace. Have your own space, and plenty of it. Fulfill the American Dream and have whatever you need." And heck, that was probably a pretty compelling vision in a society that had just seen some pretty bleak years.
But, as the article argues, all we've done is create a busy world where we run around like crazy in order to keep up our lifestyle of comfort and consumption. We sense that we don't really need it all, but nonetheless we work incessantly to get more, more, more. We could have a bigger house with more privacy. We could climb one more rung in the corporate ladder. We could get the latest technological device to manage our insane schedules. On and on the list could go. But what's the point? That's the great question the Orion article asks. Here's a staggering statistic: we were the richest country on the planet in 1948. Most of the world has not caught up even to where we were then. If we returned to 1948 levels of production and consumption, we could work 2.7 hours a day, and make everything we need!
Now, of course that may not be realistic or even desirable. But it illuminates an important truth for us. Our production and consumption is way beyond what is needed for us to live happy and abundant lives. This production could be aimed toward providing for the real needs of poor people throughout our country and the rest of the world, and we could do this while still working less. Many in our society work 60, 80, 100 hours a week, just to keep producing and consuming. What if we fundamentally had our priorities changed? What if we remembered that our most basic needs are spiritual, relational, and simple physical (read: food and clothing)? What if we were grounded in a deeper reality than the one marketers sell to us every day?
The businessmen of the 1920s paved the way for a society that looks to marketers to create needs, and so we have consumed the world around us with little regard for the less fortunate, the environment, or future generations. We gladly bought their vision, because we are selfish and greedy just like they are. But now we face the hard truth that our own earth can't even support our endless cravings much longer. And we face the even harder truth that the consumer vision is spiritually bankrupt. As God's image-bearers, we are first and foremost relational, moral and creative agents, not consumers. We are made to pour out for the betterment of the world God gave us, not for the endless bloating of our own selves.
The Kingdom of God, which Jesus first pronounced and displayed, turns all of this on its head. It's only in that culture that we can be returned to our rightful state as healthy and whole image-bearers of a good and gracious God. It's only there that my neighbor - rich or poor, strong or weak - matters more than myself. It's only there that we are defined not first by what we have or buy or produce, but by an identity as children of a loving King. It is not a Kingdom that can be bought and sold, but one that is freely given where there is faith in the good promises of the King. In his Kingdom, the last shall be first. So when will we stop our endless strivings and willingly become poor so that we can become a part of this Kingdom? Will we be last in a world obsessed with being first?
The article closes with a great point: "If we want to save the Earth, we must save ourselves from ourselves. We can start by sharing the work and the wealth. We may just find there is plenty of both to go around." The question that remains, though, is: who will save us from ourselves? We haven't proven to adept at that. The force for real change must come from the outside, not within. The gospel of consumption teaches us to live for our own gain at others' expense. The gospel of Christ teaches us to die that others might live. Which will create a good and just society?
Read "The Gospel of Consumption."
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