Luxury Trauma...
Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments (Edinburgh, 1759):
'To be observed, to be attended to, to be taken notice of with sympathy, complacency, and approbation, are all the advantages which we can propose to derive form it. The rich man glories in his riches because he feels that they naturally draw upon him the attention of the world. The poor man on the contrary is ashamed of his poverty. He feels that it places him out of the sight of mankind. To feel that we are taken no notice of necessarily disappoints the most ardent desires of human nature. The poor man goes out and comes in unheeded, and when in the midst of a crowd is in the same obscurity as if shut up in his own hovel. The man of rank and distinction, on the contrary, is observed by all the world. Everybody is eager to look at him. His actions are the objects of the public care. Scarce a word, scarce a gesture that fall from him will be neglected.'
The predominant impulse behind our desire to rise in the social hierarchy may be rooted not so much in the material goods we can accrue or the power we can wield as in the amount of love we stand to receive as a consequence of high status. Money, fame and influence may be valued more as tokens of—and means to—love rather than ends in themselves…To be shown love is to feel ourselves the object of concern: our presence is noted, our name is registered, our views are listened to, our failings are treated with indulgence and our needs are ministered to.
(de Botton, 2004, 3)
Rather than a tale of greed, the history of luxury could more accurately be read as a record of emotional trauma. It is the legacy of those who have felt pressured by the disdain of others to add an extraordinary amount to their bare selves in order to signal that they too may lay a claim to love. (de Botton, 2004, 82)
Listening to the stories of another gives us a place to stand, in imagination, outside of ourselves and thereby broadens our horizons, expands our humanity. The perspective of another also affords a view back at ourselves. We can imagine them looking at us, and we gain a perspective of ourselves we wouldn't otherwise have.
The North American church needs to hear the stories of the un-observed, the un-attended, the un-noticed. We need these stories not just to broaden our horizons and experience; we need these stories so we can see ourselves as others see us.
When the un-observed, the un-attended, the un-notcied gaze back at the North American church what do they see?
Do they see our being blessed, as we tend to think we are, or do they see evidence of emotional trauma? Do they see a compulsive need to clothe our bare selves in gewgaws, tokens of status, a thousand little shrines we hope will mediate the love of others and the acceptance of God?
I have a new car. I got that promotion. I developed that new strategy. I paid off my mortgage.
None of these things are evil. But how often are these kinds of little thoughts a soothing balm on the itch of feelings of placelessness and lovelessness?
If every little material and self validating gewgaw spawns these kinds of thoughts, adding weight to the wrong conviction that the things I have and the things I achieve make me worthy of love, then aren't we buried in an avalanche of potentially errant conviction?
And how lacking are these thoughts, these little thought shrines we go to when we feel loveless, compared to the realization; I am a child of God. How much emotional trauma have we endured because we fail to understand we are children of God?
The truth is God won't love you more because you have a car, and he also won't love you less because you have a car. He won't love you more because you develop a new strategy, and he won't love you less because you develop a new strategy. Seriously. God's grace is a mysterious thing.
You are a child of God. Here's the best part, God isn't some emotionally unbalanced alcoholic, unpredictably lurching between slathering your accomplishments with empty praise or beating your mistakes out of you with wrathful vengeance. He is the God who was so intent on restoring creation, which means he was so intent on getting you back, that he set aside all his rightful power, died and then rose again just so he could know you and you could know him. You didn't deserve it and neither did I. That's the kind of father he is, and you are his child.
In light of this Divine grace, what is the proper response to the stories of the un-obvserved, the un-attended, the un-noticed? If our best intentions arise out of our own need for love, they help no one. If our best intentions are sentimental, they help no one. If our best intentions feed our compulsion for busy work, they help no one.
Perhaps we lead with our ears. Perhaps silence is called for. A silence that can't rush to prove our worth to God; that can't reduce a human to an object of pity; that can't hide our own aching need in a cloud of busy work. Perhaps we need to sit with this fellow human, this un-observed, un-attended, un-noticed one, and silently, in our shared brokenness, wait for God to speak to his children, and then act.
Philippians 2:1-11 (The Message)
If you've gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care— then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don't push your way to the front; don't sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don't be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.
Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn't think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn't claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion.
Because of that obedience, God lifted him high and honored him far beyond anyone or anything, ever, so that all created beings in heaven and on earth—even those long ago dead and buried—will bow in worship before this Jesus Christ, and call out in praise that he is the Master of all, to the glorious honor of God the Father.
Works Cited:
de Botton, A. 2004. Status Anxiety. New York; Pantheon Books.
Scripture taken from THE MESSAGE. Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson