I'm Bored with Beer

I never thought I'd say it. To some of you, close friends and family of mine, this may sound like blasphemy, which may indicate an unhealthy relationship with the stuff, but hear me out! I'm not saying that I think the stuff is evil or that we can't enjoy one together, or that we all should stop debating the virtues of hops vs. malt, Reinheitsgebot vs. American Craft Brewing, or any of that glorious home-brewers snobbery that I actually love, I'm just saying that lately I've had a change of heart. I think for the positive.

The same thing actually happened for me with music sometime in my freshman year of college. Bored with music?! To my extended family I'm about to be disowned. But I think it's probably been years since I purchased a CD. I still love to sing, and I still love to play a few instruments when I find the time, especially in a worship context, but as far as loving music... meh. I'm kind of bored.

Perhaps the following Scripture can bring some clarity to what I'm trying to express:

¹ I said to myself, "Come now, I will test you with pleasure to find out what is good." But that also proved to be meaningless. ² "Laughter," I said, "is madness. And what does pleasure accomplish?" ³ I tried cheering myself with wine, and embracing folly—my mind still guiding me with wisdom. I wanted to see what was good for people to do under the heavens during the few days of their lives.

⁴ I undertook great projects: I built houses for myself and planted vineyards. ⁵ I made gardens and parks and planted all kinds of fruit trees in them. ⁶ I made reservoirs to water groves of flourishing trees. ⁷ I bought male and female slaves and had other slaves who were born in my house. I also owned more herds and flocks than anyone in Jerusalem before me. ⁸ I amassed silver and gold for myself, and the treasure of kings and provinces. I acquired male and female singers, and a harem ^[a] as well—the delights of a man's heart. ⁹ I became greater by far than anyone in Jerusalem before me. In all this my wisdom stayed with me.

¹⁰ I denied myself nothing my eyes desired;
I refused my heart no pleasure.
My heart took delight in all my labor,
and this was the reward for all my toil.

¹¹ Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done
and what I had toiled to achieve,
everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;
nothing was gained under the sun.

Or maybe the following:

¹⁰ Those who love money never have enough;
those who love wealth are never satisfied with their income.
This too is meaningless.

¹¹ As goods increase,
so do those who consume them.
And what benefit are they to the owners
except to feast their eyes on them?

(That's from Ecclesiastes 2 and 5, respectively).

During my freshman year of college, I began to feel I was losing touch with the music scene. Maybe that's because they didn't have "free" cable in the dorms yet and I didn't bring a TV with me to school, but I started to get the sense that I wasn't on the cutting edge like I had been in high school. My new friends in college were talking about all these bands that I'd never heard of before, and while I felt like I could potentially like these new bands and become fans of them I didn't want to do the work. I had just spent Junior High and High School developing my very distinctive style and unique "favorites" and the prospect of having to start over on that--to have to learn the lyrics to new songs, research the band members' childhoods and do the musical criticism of picking apart the melodies and rhythms that were particularly interesting so that I could articulate why this was my favorite band and adequately defend my taste to my new peers just seemed... exhausting. Maybe it was the stress of being the only person from my town in a new city doing something I'd never done before (going to college) or maybe it was the common melancholy and existential angst that many of us Americans went through in the winter and fall of 2001, but I just didn't have the time to do what I suddenly realized to be the work of finding new music that I love.

I suddenly realized that if I were to continue on my current track of musical appreciation, it would only lead to disappointment. I could never find enough music to satisfy my ear. I'll always want to hear a new song that I like. Pandora has actually made this frighteningly easy and inexpensive. (I say frightening because the ease of consumption only further commodifies the highest offerings of the musicians that make the music, see the post on the commodity fetish.)

Speaking of the commodity fetish, I think one of the reasons for my recently ended love affair with beer (hopefully we can still be friends) is that I have an appreciation for the process. My Dad home-brewed when I was a youngster, so I knew that if I ever drank beer I would only want to drink good beer, beer that was crafted to fit a style, beer that probably doesn't come in a can. And there are so many interesting flavors, types, and styles to enjoy! Craft brewing and the geekiness that goes along with it appeals to something within me that has evolved into the desire to really know and understand the things that I use, enjoy, and take for granted. There is a lot to learn about beer, like music, and that appeals to me.

But the reason beer and I have decided to see other people can be blamed, for me, on one company: Lagunitas. I haven't tried any of their beer. I guess I might some time in the future, but when a whole bunch of new beers under this label showed up at the pub I frequent, it hit me--the search for new and awesome beer--like the search for new and awesome music is like chasing after the wind. I realized that I had actually given a lot of time and effort to this pursuit, and recognized that while that pursuit may not be bad in and of itself, that there are higher pursuits to engage in that may or may not be more satisfying, but are certainly more beneficial.

I guess what I'm saying is that I suddenly feel relief from the "need" to experience the "new and improved," at least with respect to beer. The inflammation of desire as a key component to the way consumerism functions will be the topic of a future post, but I am thankful, at least in this aspect of my life, to be free of some of that desire.

The Commodity Fetish

Sound kinky? Really kind of disturbing when you understand the concept, how it works, and how we're all implicated by it. Fetish here is used not in the perverted sense, but in the following manner:

fet⋅ish /ˈfɛtɪʃ, ˈfitɪʃ/

--noun

1.	an object regarded with awe as being the embodiment or habitation of a potent spirit or as having magical potency.

2.	any object, idea, etc., eliciting unquestioning reverence, respect, or devotion: to make a fetish of high grades.

Combine that with

com⋅mod⋅i⋅ty /kə'mɒdɪti/

–noun, plural -ties.

1.	an article of trade or commerce, esp. a product as distinguished from a service.

2.	something of use, advantage, or value.

...and you get the phrase coined by Karl Marx.

(Quickly, before I lose whatever radically conservative audience I might have, you should know I voted for Ron Paul in the primary.) Karl Marx pointed out something that is true, and whether or not you agree with his solutions to economic problems, he was right about the way capitalist societies function in regards to stuff, at least in recognizing the phenomenon of the commodity fetish.

If you have ever eaten a hot-dog, you have experienced the commodity fetish at work.

To get a little bit of perspective, consider this family heirloom:

This is a small, framed portion of a quilt, made ca. 1850 AD/CE. It is the result of a team effort of a mother and daughter team, distant matriarchs of my wife's family. The two ladies harvested the flax and spun it into linen, sheared the sheep, spun and dyed that wool, then worked together to weave this beautiful quilt! There's a story about hiding some items (perhaps this quilt) from raiding Confederate soldiers, but in order to consume that entertaining story, you'll have to get together with us in person and listen to my lovely wife tell the tale, it really is hers to tell.

What does this have to do with commodities and fetishes? Well, by way of this example, 150 years ago, if you were in need or want for a quilt, no problem! Just go harvest some flax, spin it into linen, along with the wool you sheared off of your own sheep, dye it with... i have no idea, and then spend a month or two of your spare time weaving it into a blanket. This is the way that most "products" of human invention have been produced for thousands of years--in the home.

Not so in an industrialized capitalist society, especially one operating on a global economy. If we want a blanket or quilt, we go to Target and pick one out. It's probably made in China. We might choose it based on its level of comfort, its insulating qualities, the way it works or doesn't work with the decorating scheme in our living room, or it's price. And we take the thing home and enjoy it, put it to use, until it gets stained or torn, or we decide it just doesn't go with anything, and then we give it to a charity or the landfill and it becomes the charity or landfill's problem.

Today we purchase and use items with little or no regard to the questions concerning their origin, the safety of the workers who produced the item, perhaps with little or no questions about the safety or the quality of the item itself. When it's there in the store we rarely ask ourselves a question deeper than, "Do I want this?" or "Am I willing to spend x amount on this?" We're primarily concerned with the item's apparent value in and of itself, with little or no thought given to the labor or work that goes into producing such an item. And how can we? We all use a lot of stuff! We don't have time to research the origins of everything in the supermarket, and why should we? What does it matter?

It matters because someone is paying the price for me to have all the things that I want at relatively little or no cost to myself. Likewise, someone is benefiting from taking advantage of human beings and the boon that comes from ignorant bliss.

Take the hot-dog for instance. That hot-dog probably has the unwanted meat from about 500 cows or more, all mixed in to that one little homogenized link, and most of that meat has probably been treated with ammonia. If that weren't gross enough, I can look on the package and see the number of fat grams and chemicals that are contained in it. But the real kicker is that those cows were probably slaughtered by a person with no other options for employment, being payed a measly wage, working in dangerous conditions all so that I could enjoy that meat-like delicacy as part of my 4th-of-July or camping experience. But if I think about all of that, I might not want to eat the hot dog. And Oscar Meyer and "Bar-S" want to keep it that way. Often, I like to go with Hebrew National, but is it really that much better? How do I really know?

The truth is if I want to eat hot-dogs, I have to participate in all the evil--potential or real--of eating that hot dog. How much is the hot dog worth to me? What about my $20 cell phone? I've had it for 6 months and it only now occurs to me to check to see where it was made. When I take it apart and remove the battery it says it was "Made in Mexico." I wonder who made it. I wonder how old that person was, what their name is. Do they have a family? Were they paid well? How many phones or parts of phones like mine do they make in a day?

Movies like Food Inc. and websites like the Story of Stuff* attempt to disabuse us of commodity fetishism, but the truth of the matter is that we've all been conditioned for years to not think about the resources or labor that go into the products we buy, and to stop consuming all together and live a completely different lifestyle is probably not desirable or possible for most of us. At the same time, I believe in a just God who will one day judge the living and the dead. I am responsible for how I spend my dollars, or how I don't spend my dollars. In the parable of the sheep and the goats, it's not the evil that was actively done, but the good that wasn't done by supposedly good people just passively living their lives that condemns the "goats." As much as I'd like to not think that God might want me to actually go without certain items I find "essential" to my daily life, to not entertain such a possibility, in view of Scripture, seems a little foolish.

Is the comfort of my myriad of consumer choices worth the injustice it may cause? Can I really get away with a plea of ignorance before a God that knows everything? How do I live in my own culture without abandoning God or without becoming a reactionary?

*I find this 20 minute video to be a bit over-simplified, but does an OK job of raising some questions about the big picture of consumerism's effect on everything.

What good can another blog do?

Well to be honest, probably not much. I have my doubts about the efficacy of the internet as a tool for connecting people (he said on his blog).

The other day while getting my tires replaced I read an article about Yelp.com in Inc. magazine (it was on the coffee table) about a bookstore owner and a prospective customer getting into a physical altercation based on the customer's comments left on the Yelp.com rating site. Not being a small business owner, but working for a small business and having read reviews both positive and negative about the place where I work, I understand how things get emotional quickly. And in case you didn't catch the title of my blog, I'm planning on discussing things even more emotional than work and money--religion, culture, and basic beliefs about the nature of life, the universe, and everything!

But despite plenty of bad examples of people using the pseudo-anonymity of the internet to bring out the worst in people, I have to believe that these tools have the potential, at least, to be used for good.

For me, this stems from the belief that every person, no matter how mean or depraved, no matter if they agree with my deeply held beliefs or not, is made in the image of a good and loving God. God's fingerprints are in the fabric of our DNA, and whether or not we choose to recognize God as the origin of the good in people, God is glorified in His creation, perhaps most stunningly and impressively in his crowning achievement--people. This is of course, if we have eyes to see.

Are we mean? Sure. Are we selfish? Yes. But as a Christian, I have to choose to love people the way I want to be loved, and I know that I want people to see the good in me and ignore the bad. Or if they point out the bad, because they know I can do better, to do it in a way that doesn't ignore the good.

When I'm talking about stuff on this site I want to make the public commitment, one which despite my best efforts I probably won't keep all the time, to always talk about people as people--nothing more and nothing less, and to not treat them like mere ideas or concepts to be picked apart, used, and consumed.

This is hard, because for 27 years, I've been discipled by a culture of consumerism. I grew up in the world of TV, Internet, Video Games, Cell Phones, magazines and shows completely devoted to the discussion of what to buy, what not to wear, and how to have a good time. Everything about this culture tells me "it's all about me." I can have it my way. We even have sites like Yelp.com in which everyone can enjoy the elevated status of a food or fashion critic for the small price of their opinion, and blogs where for the effort of setting up an email address I can express myself to as many people as I can convince that I am interesting enough to consume. I have great parents that taught me a lot about what really matters in life, and I've been fortunate enough to benefit from the influence of Jesus' rebel gang on earth--the Church--but we all live in this sea of commercial enterprise and interact with each other through things like blogs, skype, facebook and cell phones--media which change the way we actually communicate and therefore relate to one another--often without us even recognizing it. Consumerism is our culture, and to claim to be unaffected by its basic assumptions and worldview is at best uniformed, and at worst naive or proud.

The name of this blog is an attempt at honesty. I am, at heart, a consumer. Most of what I do is use stuff. I contribute little. I'm really selfish, I often entertain delusions of grandeur, I'm proud and I act out of that pride. I have opinions about everything and I think my opinions are really important. Important enough to argue or blog about. But since I was 14, when I prayed a simple prayer of repentance in a youth volunteer's Cadillac, I find another force mysteriously at work in my life. Through no merit or power of my own, I find the desire to be thankful for the things I am blessed with, and to share those blessings with others. Sometimes I even find the power to act on those desires. In fact sometimes I even find myself hating the desire for frivolous pleasure, those desires being replaced with a sincere love and willingness to suffer for other people.

In the symbol of communion, which Jesus left for his disciples, whatever the specific controversial theological meaning of the ordinance, Christians claim to consume the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Early Christian church meetings, by all accounts Biblical and extra-biblical, were centered around this practice. It has often been used as a boundary marker for those who are either in or out of communion with Christ and his church. In this practice, the basic story of Jesus' life--his perfect sacrificial death, his resurrection, and the new community he founded is told. As part of this community, I have experienced first hand that Jesus is not dead, and that he is really the only thing that satisfies my deepest desires. The more I taste of his goodness, the more I want. This desire--unlike so many others--does not cause me to become what I hate, but somehow changes me for the better. In fact it is not the desire but the Person of God himself somehow mysteriously at work in my soul and my body making me into someone I could never become through the force of my limited rational or emotional mind. In fact I find that it is not even me living, but this Jesus person living within me. In this way I strive to be a consumer of Christ.