counter-culture

I recently stumbled across a website for an online campaign, Make Affluence History. I'm not sure how long this campaign has been running and I have a sense that it doesn't have as strong a following or is as global as another, much-loved and popular campaign, Make Poverty History. Yeah, it's great to have a global campaign against poverty, but the convenient aspect of such campaign is that we can still support the cause from our homes and the comforts we refuse to leave behind. We can wear a wristband in the name of a good cause and pretend that we've done enough to solve the problem we think we're addressing. Oh, wristbands...

This campaign against affluence reminds me of #6 on the recently updated seven deadly sins. Gone are the sins of lust, greed, sloth, gluttony, envy, pride and wrath. Today's sins are meant to reflect modern society, though I tend to think that adding "polluting the environment" was more of a response to popularity trends than anything else; like what any politician would add to his (her?) platform in order to obtain votes. Though I doubt, with items such as "birth control" on the list, people are flocking to the Catholic Church for it's updated list of sins.

What I like about the Make Affluence History campaign is that the idea behind it (social awareness and real action) is so counter-cultural. I have for years attempted to write something here about counter-culturalism, but have yet to string my words together on this topic in any coherent manner. Though I like where I was headed in the following unpublished post, also titled "Counter-Culture", written last September:

I'm ready to buy into the system. The system I have fought against for so long has finally latched it's little hooks into my wandering mind, and taken hold. I want it. It is whatever it is you see as you sit in your living room. The TV, the couch, the bookshelf. It is whatever catches your eye as you roam around the office. The new computer, the steady income, the established position. The title. It.

This as I read a book entitled: The Jesus of Suburbia: Have We Tamed the Son of God to fit our lifestyle?

A couple of nights ago, I sat on the edge of a lake in Algonquin Park. It is one of the rare places in Ontario where you can sit still and literally listen to nothing, except for the odd tent zipper opening or closing and a distant loon call. ...or a fireside debate. At one point during the night, either through a need to discuss certain matters, or through a boldness brought on by a safe amount of alcohol, I asked the question to my fellow church-going camp-mates, 'What do you think of church?'

'It's over-rated,' came an immediate reply. Impressed by such a quick response, I asked why that was his first reaction. 'Because it's what you said last week,' he replied. Touché.

So what does any of this have to do with "the system", or "The Jesus of Suburbia", or Algonquin Park, for that matter? It all comes back to something that has long sat in the recesses of my mind, occasionally coming forth to remind me that there is something more to the faith I adhere to. It is one thing that brings hope and despair to the life of one who is required to live out their faith in the North American context. It is the understanding that, in his lifetime, Christ was counter- cultural. It's what made him so compelling to the masses, and so problematic to the church authorities of his day.

I'm not sure if I'm still ready to buy into "the system"...

[as I defined in another unpublished post from last February:

the system

We're surrounded by it everyday, so it's hard to notice. It's like the air we breathe. The ground we walk on. The route we travel to work. It's called 'the system'. And like all these things, it changes. Our air is less breathable. The ground transforms from dust to concrete. Our route is widened and more stop lights are added. The system confines, all in the names of 'freedom' and 'progress'. And we keep with the system because it's far better than any other system anywhere else in the world. Or so we think.

The system surrounds, infects, pervades all aspects of North American life as we know it today: cultural, financial, economical, religious, educational, our global perspective. And the system is run by one thing: money.

It doesn't change. And if it does, it does so incrementally, that the change is only recognizable when it's taken away for a period of time. Only when it's replaced, or when the routine is returned to do we see the change. And the potential harm it is.

It's the system.]

...but I'm still captivated by this idea of being counter-cultural. Last night I enjoyed a Starbucks Grande Caramel Macchiato with the leader of our small group, an older man recently retired from teaching. We got to talking about being counter-cultural, he and I. I told him a bit about our struggle in registering for wedding gifts, that we have a desire to register only for the things we need, but find it hard to justify the expenses of even these things. And since we do plan on living here for at least a couple of years, we recognize that the things we are registering for are needed. We love the idea of being Christ-like in a counter-cultural sense, but are caught between that and the reality of where we live. Ha. It begs the question, doesn't it?

Footnote: I'm actually quite disturbed by the fact that my intended mockery of the WWJD bracelet early in this post has bitten me in the ass. Quite disturbed.

the epitome of laze.

A couple of weeks ago, while catching up on some taped Lost episodes, we were interrupted by the requisite commercial break, including one about this refrigerator. Fridges have come a long way since the birth of freon. Not only do they come with ice-dispensers, but with TVs, internet, self-ordering functions, and yes, even door-ajar alarms. But this fridge has even beaten that idea with its self-closing function. That's right. The doors close on their own. It is, in my estimation, the epitome of laze. I'm the first to admit that I enjoy lazing around, so please note the hypocrisy in some of what I am about to say, though in my mind I make a distinction between sitting around doing nothing and allowing my fridge to close itself. It begs a fundamental question concerning needs vs. wants.

The idea of needs vs. wants mainly comes from recent experiences as Susan and I have been registering for wedding gifts. There are certain things we need. As we're pretty much starting out fresh, we need a kitchen table and we need dishes to eat off our table. We need a bed and we need blankets to keep us warm in that bed. We need living room furniture and we need snack bowls to eat from while we sit in that furniture. This may even go beyond what others may consider needs, but we genuinely think we need these things. The difficulty we've been having has been those other things that, well, we'd like to have but don't necessarily need. I'd like to think we would use a blender, but I'm also aware of the fact that the idea of having a blender is much nicer than the reality of using one. Do we need a 4-popper toaster? We can probably get by with a 2-popper, but we've registered with a company that only seems to carry 4-poppers. Do we need the expensive duvet and duvet cover? No, we could probably get by with an Ikea version of the same, but Ikea doesn't do gift registries. Do we need the $200 pair of kitchen chairs? No (see our Ikea quandry). How about the $200 coffee maker? ...wait, is that even a valid question? Of course we do! (note previous remark about hypocrisy).

Contentment in material possessions is difficult in our culture, isn't it? How do we balance out the things we need with the things we want? Or should there even be a balance? What does it mean when we read David's words in the oft-quoted verse, The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want? (Psalm 23). Does David have no want because God has given everything he ever wanted? Or is there no want because God is everything he needs? Easy for David to say, he probably didn't even like coffee. But if the latter were true, how does that fit into our North American culture where God so easily takes a sideline to our credit card? Where our wants and needs can be bought just around the corner, whether we can afford it or not?

When I was in Northern Uganada a couple of summers ago, we were encouraged to discover how God was challenging us in our lives. I left pondering the question, why do I need God? I'm not convinced the answer to that question will easily come while I remain saturated in our culture. Where every drive to Vancouver reminds me of the insurmountable wealth this city boasts. Where the average house costs a little less than $500,000, the highest average in Canada. And I'm convinced that the church here will never be able to answer that question, because it's too busy fighting. Or maybe that is the challenge: to discover a need for God in an individualistic, materialistic, increasingly lazy culture. I'd write more, but I left the fridge door open.

some things are worth committing to...

Spring has sprung in the West. I've counted 4 robins so far, seen daffodils rise from their hibernation, and felt the warmth of the sun on those oh-so-rare sunny days in BC. Change is in the air, I can feel it. This isn't going to be one of those foolish posts where I state I will do better in my blogging and then fail to do so. While I have accomplished most of the things on my to-do list, I've become more and more aware of the effect that routine has on one's time. The weeks pass quickly from one to the next. Here we are, mid-March already. Since writing about being complacent, I've discovered that maybe my complacency is more a result of being in routine of busyness than of being lazy. I always found something else to do instead of the things I had on my to-do list. And, I'll admit, I had a lot on my mind dealing with a topic of great fear and struggle: commitment.

There are some things in life that I have committed to out of obligation or temporary desire or need. I've committed to a job temporarily for the security that money brings. I was committed to a certain gas station for the two Air Miles I collected on each fill-up (until I discovered that they profit over $44 billion annually). I'm committed to Apple computers, despite the fact that my previous laptop died due to a defective part and this laptop is on its way out due to the same issue. Incidentally, I'm committed to making foolish, spur-of-the-moment purchases (ie. defective iBooks and snowboards...James?)

And then there is the commitment to end all commitments: marriage. It took a little while for me to get around to this one and it was, in fact, much harder than I expected. Not because I don't love Susan, not because I wasn't convinced that her and I could be together for the rest of our lives (heck, I tried convincing her of that for three years before she caught on), and not because, deep down I knew that part of my reasoning for returning to BC was for her. These things I know, but there was still that part of me that wrestled with the idea of giving up some of my individual freedoms to be with another for life.

We talked last night, Susan and I, about this whole 'love' thing. We both know that there will be times where our love for eachother will be more out of choice than of desire. We both know that love can be tough, that relationships can be a struggle. But the awesome thing about commitment is that we're sold on eachother. And we're committed to eachother, no matter what. I'd like to believe that I know exactly what I'm getting myself into, but I'm learning that life is about learning, about discovering, and yes, about relationships.