Christianity, Consumerism

CHAPTER 7 – WEIGHTY MATTERS (Gluttony)

An English comedian observed that the American economy was brilliant in its simplicity – half of it is devoted to making us fat, and the other half is devoted to making us thin again. A drive past the miles of establishments selling high-calorie food and the huge number of health clubs in the average city or a stroll past the aisles packed with empty calories and those packed with diet foods and magic weight-loss pills in the average grocery store shows that his comment had some validity. But gluttony goes beyond food and the ever-expanding American waistline. The same phenomenon applies to all of the consumer junk with which we fill our lives.

Junk calories

I love the experience of food. I am always eager to try new things, and I spend a significant amount of time on buying and cooking food. (The eating part, sadly, tends to go by in a flash, with the dinner that took an hour to cook taking ten minutes to eat.) This is okay. Christianity does not ask us to give up the pleasant things in life and spend all our waking moments in good works. Creating and sharing food is a basic and positive way that people interact with each other. Many studies have shown that families that eat dinner together are more successful than those that don’t, and the common practice of saying grace at mealtime shows the importance that we place on the shared meal. We seek to remind ourselves of heaven’s bounty when we sit down to a meal, so that we appreciate the food before us and the company around us and think about the goodness of the world rather than just wolfing down the food. That can be a soul-enhancing experience, as much as appreciating and sharing a desert sunset or good music or art. God does not ask us to be cold and joyless ascetics. To the contrary, he works through the good things in life. The pleasure we feel when we experience love, beauty, the scent of a rose or the taste of a good meal helps us to ground ourselves, to shrug off frustration, pain, and despair and reacquire the warmth that our spirits are meant to have. By experiencing the joy of simple pleasures, by living in the moment and appreciating what we have, we can actually immunize ourselves against obsessive desires.

Gluttony creeps in when we start to crave quantity, particularly in a manner that causes us to lose sight of the experience of quality. Sinful excess involves, sooner or later, loss of real pleasure in the thing. Most of us have experienced at one time or another the compulsion to eat a whole bag of potato chips or candy, and to then feel slightly ill and realize that we did not even enjoy it. Gluttony and other obsessive desires are like that. Rather than savoring a single, exquisite chocolate truffle, we mindlessly down a pound of M&Ms and then look around for more, and more, and more. There is nothing wrong with M&Ms in their place, but when you scarf the whole bag at once you are not appreciating the experience of eating them. You are instead following a compulsion that undermines one of life’s simple pleasures.

American society tends to push people down the path of gluttony. I remember as a child enjoying what was then called a California hamburger at a drive-in, a sensibly- sized object that was generally accompanied by a little bag of French fries or onion rings. The California hamburger actually had tomatoes and lettuce and such that looked like they do in advertising pictures. Then came the marketing companies, who wanted us all to consume more and thus spend more money. They told us that if we liked that burger, surely we would be happier with one that had a full quarter pound of beef. If we liked that, then we would REALLY like a burger with two quarter-pound patties. We would like it even more if both patties were covered with a large amount of cheese-like food, and then some bacon. Since it would take us longer to eat that massive creation, we would run out of fries from that small bag as we took breaks from biting the burger. So, we needed a giant box of fries, and a big milk-like shake, and desert. The idea of settling for that little California hamburger came to seem foolish, like one was being cheated somehow. Likewise, if our urban desk-jockey’s breakfast did not include a stack of syrup-sponges, three pale eggs from battery hens, sausages, bacon, and hash browns, we obviously weren’t getting our money’s worth (which was true, because the clever marketers intentionally made a sensible breakfast cost nearly as much as the mega-breakfast, so that we would opt for excess). As we became used to giant portions, we simultaneously got used to cheaper ingredients that substituted fat, sugar and salt for actual flavor. A smaller, better meal seemed too expensive, because after finishing it one did not have that somewhat uncomfortable sense of bloat that we had become used to thinking of as “feeling full”. These habits carried over to our home-cooked meals, and we bought and ate more per meal. Manufacturers were happy to encourage this, balanced somewhat by the rise of the calorie-controlled frozen meal industry as we started viewing our waistlines with dismay. We were offered thousands of calories of relatively flavorless and non-nutritive sugared glop.3

This commercially-induced form of gluttony is unlikely in itself to destroy your soul, as opposed to merely killing you, but it is instructive. Life is meant to be lived observantly. To achieve alignment with God, we need to be aware of our fellow creatures and to want to make them happy. We need to want to make the world a better place. That involves appreciating the things that are good. Again, God wants us to enjoy love and beauty, scents and flavors, music and peace and contentment. We are to recognize that others would like to experience these things as well, and to want to help them to have that opportunity. When we see a particularly beautiful sight, we want to tell our loved ones about it and to take them to see it, too, or at least show them pictures. When we hear beautiful music, we want to play it for others. When we find a delicious recipe, we want to share it with our family and friends. This is the proper, Christian reaction to all things good, to want to increase them and share them. If you have four M&Ms and four family members, each gets one and you all enjoy the experience.

As we move towards gluttony, we start to lose that interest in experiencing and sharing the good thing. When we contemplate that bag of M&Ms, we do not think of people that we might share them with. As we eat them, we do not savor the flavor. We just consume.

It is not that the desire for the food burns in our brain. Rather, the harm comes in undermining our better sensibilities, our desire to sense and to share. Most of us experience strong cravings for junk food just as a form of withdrawal. When a bag of sweet or salty fat is opened we will absent-mindedly devour it, but we don’t devote our lives to that pursuit. However, most of us know the feeling of going into the kitchen and finding that you are out of junk food, and being unhappy about that. As this experience repeats itself, we start to pay more attention to the chip aisle than to the produce aisle in the grocery store. (The produce section, objectively viewed, is a beautiful thing. I have taken photos of produce markets on my travels and they are always pretty. I have never felt the urge to take a photo of the junk food aisle.) We lose the battle of the bulge, getting fatter than we want to be while knowing that we should be eating less and exercising more. We suffer from high cholesterol and high blood pressure, and take pills for it that have assorted nasty side-effects rather than just correcting our diet. Our eating habits, to that extent, control us, interfering with romance, health, and well-being despite the fact that we know we should do better. We know that we do not get twice the pleasure from that second slab of ground cow bits on our burger, but we order it anyway. We lose effective control over an important aspect of our lives. What was a shared family pleasure becomes a mere guilty compulsion. The family dinner, which should be an occasion of joy and conversation, becomes meaningless, and we lose closeness because of it.4

It can get worse, of course. Now imagine the people who eat so much that they can no longer care for their children, or work, or even walk, who find someone who will facilitate their self-destruction by continuing to feed them when they become too grossly obese to feed themselves. Such people effectively devote their entire lives to feeding their obsession with consuming (not necessarily enjoying, but consuming) food. They do not have room in their lives for healthy love, charity, or support for others, because they are consumed by their consumption. That is obsessive gluttony of a type similar to obsessive greed or lust that involves a cycle of wanting desperate enough to crowd out everything else.

But it would be a mistake to envision the primary hazard of gluttony that way. The more dangerous version is the type discussed above, which merely undermines our observant, sharing, engaging lives. As we drift away from active interaction, sharing, and enjoyment, our souls move from divine warmth towards the cold limbo of apathy. As with sloth, mindless chip munching does not lead us down a path of sinful desire so much as it diverts us from the path of virtue. Despite our high levels of obesity, few Americans are obsessive gluttons, but almost all of us allow ourselves to be diverted to some extent from the caring, mindful co-enjoyment of real food that is supposed to follow the saying of grace. Because of this we lose a part of the life that we are meant to have. This becomes a serious danger when it is mixed with the other types of gluttony discussed below.

What can we do about food gluttony? Pay attention. We feel like we are too busy to spend time making real food, but we need to find ways to de-busy our lives and make time. (Not by sacrificing more sleep, please.) Do this with someone. Look at recipes with someone. Shop together, or at least plan the shopping together. Spend time looking in the produce aisle and imagining what you could make with what looks good, or even better grow things in a garden.5 Cook together, or at least have a child within sight of the cook to allow for interaction. Have family dinners and family breakfasts. Have lunch with friends. Focus on making the food taste good, on adding variety, on noticing the flavors and sharing the experience. Keep in mind that a lot of restaurant and chef-type cooking is overly dependent on butter and other fat. Experiment with instead adding flavor with herbs and appreciating the flavor of fresh food and real ingredients. If you are careful you can reduce your calorie intake while enjoying the food far more and feeling happily full. While this may seem like a recipe for becoming MORE preoccupied with eating, it is a different type of eating, one that restores the appreciative, loving, sharing experience that we are meant to have. As you try to please others with your creations or to notice the creativity and love that went into the meal before you, you will move from the cold realm of the chip-eating chair to the warmth of family and friends. Volunteering in charitable food pantries and soup kitchens is a good and Christian thing to do, but we can do much, and perhaps even more, to place ourselves on the path of virtue just by paying attention to how we eat at home.

Junk possessions

Food is not the only object for which we may have a gluttonous desire. We tend to have similar problems with respect to all sorts of consumer goods and services. From shoes to home decorations to computers, we get caught up in an endless cycle of consumption that causes us to feel trapped in our jobs and occupies our attention, distracting us from the things that count. Where greed tends to throw up danger flares in the form of periodic meltdowns of the whole economy, the gluttony inherent in this deeply materialistic lifestyle is much more subtle and far-reaching in its effects on most of us.

Go to any mall and watch the people who are there just to shop. They have not come because there is something that they discovered they need. They have not come because of an ad that informed them of the availability of some wonderful new design or invention that will improve their lives. Instead, they have money in their pocket or, more likely, credit limit left on their card, and so they are out in search of something to buy.6

This is disturbing on different levels. First, with all of the things that need to be done, built, repaired, or assisted in the world, why does pointless money-spending make the priority list? Sure, it is commonly done in pairs or groups and so is a social activity, which is good, but there are lots of better things for people to do together. Talk with your family. Garden. Cook. Make things, whether it be useful objects or art. Fix things. Clean things. Do charitable works. Work for a political cause. Go to gardens or galleries and appreciate things, or go to student events and encourage the kids. If you really must shop, then shop with a purpose. Make a real effort to find good products at fair prices and tell others about them. Find things that are made locally. Find artists and inventors that do not know how to play the system, and help to make them known. Spending your time trolling through mass merchandise looking for something remotely acceptable to purchase is a mindless extension of the mindless gluttony of owning junk products. Cut it off at the source.

This brings us to the second problem with shopping: it leads to buying things. We are addicted to stuff. This addiction takes different forms with different people. Many women seem to have a particular yen for 547 pairs of shoes, of which maybe 2 are comfortable. Men may buy inexplicable quantities of clothing as well. Other people are very big on cutesy stuff for their home. They go to stores and craft fairs and work through catalogs buying items by the score, until they no longer have room and need to give them away or throw them away. I had a neighbor who had lots of cutesy stuff for every holiday, and every year tossed half of it and bought more. Some collect movies, music, or video games, and then quickly lose interest in their purchases and move on to more. Others accumulate cars, boats, various degrees of motorcycles and scooters, and anything else with a motor, and then try to come up with ways to actually use them. Alternatively, they may buy 137 kitchen gadgets, use them once, and then put them in the back of the cabinet in a kitchen that looks magnificent because it is rarely dirtied by use.

Whatever form the addiction takes, the effects are the same. The buyer’s real appreciation for the items fades, he has to work a little harder to make the money for the next item, and his soul moves a little further out of the warmth of social engagement and into the cold realm of pointless things.

Objects can be good and have meaning. A perfect outfit that makes you feel beautiful and gives you social confidence can make your life better. A household item that you acquire on a trip somewhere or that you inherited from your grandmother that conjures pleasant memories every time you see it can echo and magnify the warm and worthwhile parts of your life. A kitchen gadget that you really use to make food that your family loves is a thing that helps to bring you closer together, sharing the bond of that really good meal that is always better at home than it is anywhere else. The movie that you watch as a family every Christmas, or the great but hard-to-find song that you discovered and like to share with friends, or the clever game that everyone in the family played and that provides part of your common vocabulary are all things that increase warmth and bring people closer together in a world of shared joy. The common theme here is that the single object has to have meaning, and preferably a meaning that connects you with one or more other people. It has to link you to experiences, to observations of your world, to the appreciation of life. It is when stuff replaces life that gluttony steps in.

A pair of shoes can make you feel beautiful. When my daughter could barely walk, she had a pair of shoes that she just loved and that clearly made her very proud and happy. That was good. The 533rd pair of shoes, on the other hand, simply cannot have the same sort of effect. Owning that many shoes indicates one of two bad things. Either the shoes have ceased to have any particular effect and are being purchased and consumed like junk food, or else the owner feels a sort of incurable desperation that she hopes will be helped by the right pair of shoes, but which cannot really be addressed that way. As she takes home yet another pair of shoes and still does not feel confident, she reinforces her sense of failure or emptiness. The hoped-for cure instead just aggravates the disease.

The same holds true for all of the other forms of junk consumption. Rather than appreciating objects either for their unique qualities or for their connection to life experiences, we buy a bunch of things that cannot have special meaning, if only because we have so many of them. Rather than the special, obscure song, we buy everything in the top 100 and then cycle on to the next group of hits, without even associating the music with a particular, happy time in our life. (One of the great qualities of popular music is its association with a particular time, so that all of the happy things in that time can be conjured by hearing a song that we enjoyed during that period.) We buy or stream 1,000 movies and play them while we multitask, making no effort to appreciate the movie or to share it with others, instead just using it to fill the mind with noise. Those kitchen gadgets do not become associated with pleasant family meals because we do not bother with pleasant family meals. The household decorations are just disposable stuff that never become part of the scene that in our minds means home and family. It is all meaningless at best, and at worst feeds a constant craving for something that we cannot in fact obtain with money, but which our acquisitions keep us from recognizing as the desire for love, family, friends, and the goodness that is God.

Our American consumer culture encourages this form of gluttony in the same way that it sells junk food. We are constantly exposed to ads that are designed to make us want things that we don’t need. Our computer screens, grocery carts, elevator walls, and other visual spaces are filled with calls for us to buy more. In stores we are exposed to thousands of products in alluring displays. And then there is credit.

There was a time that you needed money in order to buy things. Now we are led to believe that everyone should borrow a huge sum of money and buy a house.7 Beyond that debt, and student loan debt, and the debt that the government is running up on our behalf, we are encouraged to run up debt on our credit cards at a 21% interest rate, or to take payday, tax refund anticipation, and car-title loans at interest rates that are higher than that. When we can’t make those high interest payments, we borrow more money against our house if we can, subsidized by the government because the government loves the banks. We spend way more money than we have, and with all that interest we may not ever have any money. As we get deeper into this debt-hole, we have to work harder and longer to keep up. Our more noble and virtuous pursuits fall away in our struggle to cope with the consequences of our purchases of things we didn’t need. As Wordsworth wrote back in 1806:

The world is too much with us; late and soon,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers

In this way gluttony and sloth can be more dangerous than more active sins like wrath or greed. When a sinful desire fills one’s mind like a burning flame, it may be relatively easy to recognize the issue and to decide to do something about it. Gluttony sneaks up on us because the desire is not very strong. We don’t really care about the latest pair of shoes we bought, so how can it be distracting us from the path of virtue? It does so in tiny little bites that ultimately combine into a gaping maw of distraction that consumes us. All the clothes and toys and gewgaws that we bought, multiplied by the magical leveraging power of debt, force us into wage slavery, working in jobs we hate for employers who take advantage of us because we have to pay the bills. We get home without the energy to engage with our families, to do good works, or to experience and enjoy the world. We sit there among our meaningless possessions – junk that does nothing for us, reminds us of nothing pleasant, and fails to symbolize Home for our children. How can we develop the habits of mind that lead to heaven this way?

How can we defend against this form of gluttony? The same way that we can defend against food gluttony – pay attention. For those of us who are particularly strong, we can cast off our possessions like Saint Francis, the rich man’s son who embraced complete poverty. As Jesus futilely asked of the rich man in Luke 18:228, we can renounce the tyranny of material possessions, focus entirely on the joys of doing good works, and take the direct path to God. Unfortunately, most of us are not that strong. We have families to worry about, and real poverty in the modern city is not a status that makes virtue easy. For those of us that are not ready to cast off everything, there is an alternative that works almost as well. Oddly, it does not involve caring less about things, but rather more, but more in a different way. We have to remove our possessions from the realm of mindless junk food and have them be carefully selected items that have real meaning.

We naturally understand this at some level. Most parents have gone through the exercise of telling their children: “Don’t just tear open all of your Christmas presents at once! Take the time to appreciate each one, and remember who gave it to you.” We know that if a child gets 50 presents and opens them in a big pile he will lose interest in most or all of them more-or-less immediately, they will mean nothing to him, and he will get little real pleasure from them. On the other hand, if he gets a few special things from special people, he will be excited about the presents, he will enjoy them for a long time, and he will enjoy knowing that this is the toy from Aunt Ellen, because it is a reminder that Aunt Ellen likes him and wanted him to have fun. We know that a child who appreciates his limited possessions will be less likely, rather than more likely, to whine for more than a child who does not appreciate his boxes of toys.

How can we apply this as adults? Consider the classic French approach to fashion. A woman bought a really nice, unique dress that made her feel confident, and she wore it to every special occasion that year. American women, in contrast, feel like they should not be seen wearing the same thing twice on different occasions if they can help it. Why? What does wearing different things each time you are seen convey other than “this woman spends too wastefully on clothing”? We equate the ability to spend wastefully with wealth, and wealth with virtue. Both links in that chain are invalid. One can spend quite wastefully on credit, and as long ago as the writing of Psalm 73 it was observed “Behold, these are the ungodly, who prosper in the world; they increase in riches.” What if we instead followed the French practice, trying to find one really flattering outfit and wearing it frequently until it wears out? This would communicate the message “I am someone who pays attention to the world around me and who has developed the ability to appreciate what is aesthetically pleasing, and I don’t waste money on junk clothing or fast fashion that sits rotting in my giant closet.” That’s not a bad message.9 That dress will then come to embody a variety of memories of special occasions from that year. Like a favorite song, it will become a hybrid of a thing you can buy and memories that are exclusively your own. It will have value not because it was expensive, but because it helps you to remember joyous times with family and friends. Instead of thirty pieces of meaningless cloth in your closet, you will have one item that helps to connect your soul to the people with whom you shared those times.

In my family, we collect and display art that was created by family and friends, and we then pass that down from generation to generation. A picture on the wall is not just a pretty object, it is a connection to people we care about or to the memory of loved ones who have passed away, and it helps to define “Home”. We have photos and objects from trips that were meaningful to us. My ancestors, who were not at all rich, bought a very few nice and unique pieces of furniture that they kept nice and passed down, so that again they connect us to our family in a meaningful way. We will allow our children to take many of these things for their own houses while their children are small, so that they will help to define the next generation’s picture of Home. We have music recorded by family members, songs picked up on fun vacations, and unique songs that are special to the family. We have some movies that few people know about, but which we really like and force everyone who becomes close to the family to watch. We have inherited kitchen tools that we use to make old family recipes, and carpentry tools that we use to try to make the house nicer. All of these things have meaning, and the meaning is not “this looks expensive – people will think we have money”. Rather, the things surround us with thoughts of friends, family, good experiences and happy times. When we are depressed or discouraged, looking around at these items restores the soul and makes it easier to snap out of the bad mood and do something positive.

The key is to not have a large number of things, and especially not a large number of things that won’t last. Be selective. When we traveled with the children when they were little, one was dying to spend her pocket money on souvenirs and bought the first several passable objects she saw. The other waited until he saw one really cool item, and that was his remembrance of the trip. Needless to say, he remains pleased with his set of tangible memories of the places he has been and the things he has done. Don’t fill your house with stuff just to fill it. Consider those blank spaces as waiting to be filled with a future pleasant memory or with your creative effort or that of someone you know. That bare bit of wall is not a gap, it is an inspiration, a call to find the further adventure that will fill it.

When you buy your things, be observant. I am amazed at the number of people who travel to a destination and disappear into the nearest shopping center, spending their time buying remembrances of a place they didn’t see because they were too busy shopping. Be in the moment. See things, do things, meet people. Somewhere in that process that one lasting, meaningful object will come along to serve as your remembrance of the occasion. If it doesn’t, you still have your memories, just not the reminder. That is much better than having a reminder of nothing but the inside of a shop.

If you are selective and focus on owning objects that attach you to people and experiences you care about, you will start to find that that this habit has the same effect on your craving for junk objects that a focus on good food has on your craving for sugary fat. You will lose interest in that other stuff. Excess junk objects in your house will annoy you. When you find nice things, you will want to share them in the same way that you want to share good food. “When we were in Pennsylvania we found this Amish carpenter who makes the most beautiful furniture and sells it for reasonable prices. See how well done this is? If you ever go there you should see his things!” Instead of surrounding you and isolating you, your select things will help to connect you to other people.

Saints are, of course, very special people. We admire people like Mother Theresa and tend to think that anything that you can’t picture her doing must be a distraction from the ideal Christian life. Perhaps so, but she was a nun, not a mother. For ordinary Christians living ordinary lives, the path to virtue does not involve separating yourself from this world and just concentrating on the next. If God wanted us to just concentrate on the afterlife he would have skipped the messy thing we call life. Our lives and our world are a training ground. In life we learn to love, to help, to appreciate, to experience earthly bliss, to learn to feel true joy in doing good and to dislike obsessive desires and junk distractions. Devoting yourself to doing good works is great if you are able to feel real joy in doing them, but if you are doing it just to earn credit in the afterlife, then you are doing the right thing for the wrong reason and it won’t work. Instead, you need to back up and prepare yourself by a different path until you are ready for that level of devotion. We can find heaven by abandoning all material things, but we can also find it by using material things as anchor points and connections. One should not be anxiously focused on acquiring them or regard them as important in themselves, but rather one should be focused on living a good and happy life, with the objects being things that one runs into along the way and chooses to bring along for the rest of the journey.

The effect of this approach to objects will normally be to reduce consumption. As you lose interest in junk possessions and grow used to wanting each item to evoke a memory every time you look at it, the idea of spending your time shopping for random additional stuff should become uninteresting. As you spend less time spending, you should start to emerge from debt and reduce your family stress. Eventually you should be able to spend less time and effort earning money and devote more time to family, friends, and those in need. As you become less tired and stressed, your evenings and weekends should become richer. You will do more, love more, experience more. You will have more happy memories to attach to that limited group of friendly objects that occupy your home. Over time, you will wish to share that happiness with others, and will turn your attention to making others happy. That is the path back to virtue and to God.

1 Again contrast envy, which is even more relative. If you have a Barbie doll and I don’t, and if I would be about equally pleased either to get a Barbie doll myself or to have you lose yours, that is envy. If you and I both have a Barbie doll and I want yours, that is greed. If I have a complete Barbie set and want 27 more of them without regard to what anybody else may have, that is gluttony.

2 The show The Good Place had a nice observation on this, which sadly I can’t find as an exact quote. Michael tastes some frogurt and says “I love humans. You take something and make it a little bit worse, so that you can have more of it.”

3 Read jars of spaghetti sauce and notice how hard it is to avoid added sugar. Your Italian grandmother probably did not add sugar to her sauce, but was fussy about which tomatoes she used.

4 The National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse at Columbia University conducts periodic studies on family dinners in America. Only 57% of teens report having dinners with their family at least five time a week. Those who do not have family dinners are 3 ½ times more likely to say it is okay for teens their age to get drunk, and over 32% more likely to report high stress levels.

5 I garden largely with seeds from a supplier of Italian heirloom vegetables and herbs. The Italians know how to live, and there is no comparison between what those seeds produce and what you buy in the store.

6 Sadly, this shopper may be a person who loudly proclaims his concern about climate change and shouts that we should all get the government to do something, without thinking that he could do much by just not buying so much unnecessary stuff.

7 Given that Americans move an average of every 5 years, that we spend over 8% of the price of the house on closing costs, and that a large portion of landlords rent for less than they pay in mortgage, taxes, and maintenance, it is no longer clear that this is a good idea, but that is outside the scope of this book.

8 “sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me.”

9 I realize that that proposition will be a hard sale with a teenage girl. This is a realm where gluttony interacts with vanity. One must work simultaneously to address both. We should not care if the mean girls in school say “look at her – that’s the same dress she’s worn to every party this year!” A girl should strive to have the confidence to respond “quite so, and I look good in it rather than looking like an over- consuming, wasteful clothes-rack.” The odds of success with a 15-year- old are low, but a parent’s job is mainly to plant the seeds that flower by the time the child becomes an adult, not to create the world’s second perfect teenager.

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