SERMONS

I wondered if our early service would be better attended today. You may have some interest in hearing about responsible consumption, but maybe not at the cost of the football game. I know you aren't all interested in football, not even Tennessee football-but you must admit it is relevant to the topic at hand. It reminds me of that old story about the preacher railing against the sins of the people in his congregation. He had a cheering section right in the front. A woman punctuated his admonitions against greed and adultery and lying and laziness with "preach it" and "amen." He got into such a nice rhythm with her that when his admonitions turned to gossiping and he heard no affirmation from the front he looked her way puzzled. "Mind your own business, preacher," she responded, under her breath.

Nothing simple about this sermon topic. It is both complex in the issues it raises and it is difficult in the challenges it poses. I feel quite challenged by it. And overwhelmed. But I am also drawn to it. I know many of you are as well-I've heard that from more people than usual. In spite of our seeming inability to really address the problem of conspicuous consumption, we recognize the desperate place we are in.

According to one economist, "after drugs and crime, people see materialism as the most serious problem affecting American families" (p. 24). More and more middle class people are talking about simplifying their lives. More and more people are discovering the empty satisfaction of what they own. More and more people are asking themselves what they can afford to consume, to buy, to have-not afford financially, but afford spiritually and psychologically.

It is striking how out of sync we seem to be. We are out of sync with our values-you know the old test about what you really value…don't write them from your head, read your checkbook and your calendar. That's the only way to truly measure what you value. Few of us, I have to believe, would do very well by this measure. We tend to be out of sync. What is driving us? What keeps us from saying "Enough!"? Or at least keeps us from living as though it were enough.

Juliet Schor calls the problem the new consumerism. She describes a vast competition to acquire in a way that will give us the position in society we feel we must have. She speaks of the perception so many have (roughly half the population in this country) that we do not make enough money to be able to afford the things we need. We need. (39% of people making $50-$100,000 feel this.) She speaks of the affect of television. Not just advertising on television, though the impact of that is significant in part because companies advertise across class because of the large market possible. Not just advertising, but entertainment. We don't compare ourselves nearly so much to our neighbors anymore. The Jones's have been replaced by the Huxtables. Or Joey and Rachel and Ross. Or Dr. Jon Carter. And I don't know about you-but it looks to me like those characters are doing pretty darn well.

You may have seen a recent article in The World magazine which also makes this point-the point that we are so desperate to pass as well-off that we overspend. Doesn't really feel like an accurate assessment of us… But the spending continues. The saving happens less and less. Debt grows. And the hours we work is creeping up and up. In turn the effect of our overspending on the public good becomes alarming. Education, social services, recreation, culture, public safety all get underfunded as we shift our resources to private schools, health clubs, security systems, and decrease our support of public services.

To help us understand this dramatic shift to overspending, and how naturally it has happened, Juliet Schor tells of the eighteenth century French philosopher who wrote "Regrets on Parting with My Old Dressing Gown." Denis Diderot found the gift of an elegant scarlet dressing gown difficult to handle. Upon receiving the beautiful clothing, he immediately discarded his familiar, comfortable gown. It did not take long for him to notice, though, that the new gown put a dreadful burden on his life. His study, the furnishings, all of his surroundings did not meet the standard of elegance set by the scarlet gown. Slowly, he replaced the familiar furnishings of his study with appropriately elegant furnishings. One day, to his surprise, he found himself sitting uncomfortably in his own study, feeling quite out of place by its formality. (Schor, p. 145)

The "Diderot effect" is the name given to the way consumers today strive for conformity. In her book, The Overspent American, Schor describes how this effect works in our lives:

The purchase of a new home is the impetus for replacing old furniture; a new jacket makes little sense without the right skirt to match; an upgrade in china can't really be enjoyed without a corresponding upgrade in glassware. This need for unity and conformity in our lifestyle choices is part of what keeps the consumer escalator moving ever upward. And escalator is the operative metaphor: when the acquisition of each item on a wish list adds another item, and more, to our "must-have" list, the pressure to upgrade our stock of stuff is relentlessly unidirectional, always ascending.

For me, from a religious point of view, the place to start is with the question of living well. If our spiritual practice, our religious exploration, our individual growth does not ask this question, I'm not sure why we bother. We want to live well and fully. Few would dispute this human urge.

Funny expression, though, "living well." What is the first image that comes to mind? I'm not sure what my first image was-but it didn't take me long, reflecting on living well, to see what Madison Avenue would like for me to see. Living well: satin sheets, a firm mattress, a spacious house, nice clothes, rich, delicious food (that someone else has prepared), books, (can I hear a "preach it"?) art, music, things. Things. That I have learned define what my life is when it is lived well.

But I don't believe that. Not really. I've bought it, but I don't believe it. Living well is not about things. My well-being has very little to do with what I possess. (It may have more to do with what possesses me.) My well-being is woven by the quality of my relationships-my relationship with myself, my relationship with my family and friends, my relationship with the wider community, my relationship with the earth, my relationship with the creative force of Life, meaning, God. To live well, then, requires faithfulness to relationships.

I know that is a little abstract. Perhaps even vague. But it is difficult to define for each other. I guess I believe it would be hard to consider it faithful to go into your neighbor's house and take something that belongs to her. But what about the faithfulness of buying a piece of clothing produced by a little girl in a sweat shop across the world? What about the faithfulness of mindlessly wasting the earth's precious and limited resources. What about the faithfulness of living in mindless abundance while so many others in the world suffer from hunger.

We have to find our own understanding of what it means to be faithful. To live well. To cultivate well-being. We cannot, though, gain a sense of well-being for ourselves without an understanding of how our well-being is connected with the well-being of our human community and the well-being of the earth and all that lives. This requires a high level of awareness, of mindfulness, of consciousness in our actions. It requires that we shut-off the automatic pilot. That we live deliberately.

It is easy to see how powerful are the outside forces for irresponsible consumption. But it is not enough to explain that we have been swept along. Henry David Thoreau wrote, "I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of [humanity] to elevate his life by a conscious endeavor." There is no more encouraging fact. And no more difficult reality. We can elevate our lives. We can become conscious, mindful, responsible, faithful. Our well-being requires it.

In the coming months you will learn in your newsletter about numerous ways you can reduce consumption. In March or April we will distribute pledge cards that will help you make a commitment. That will join your commitment with others so that we can harness our collective power to make a difference.

In the meantime, I challenge each of us to consume with mindfulness. I realized only recently that every time I wash my hands in a public restroom I automatically, mindlessly, grab more paper towels than I need. What a silly, simple thing. But once I made this realization, now I don't use paper towels without thought. We could bring that kind of awareness to all of our consumption. Food, electricity, water, paper, gadgets, technology, entertainment, travel. Pick one area that you could think about in your own life. Even if it is only paper towels. Just watch as you consume. And consider whether you will join us in a congregation-wide effort toward more responsible consumption.