Showing posts with label money. Show all posts
Showing posts with label money. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

On Entitlement

grocery, food, stamps, ebt, accept
by Lyndsey Graves 

It is true that entitlements become dependencies. It is especially true for the most vulnerable people.

“You are entitled to eat”, our government says to people.
“I think you are right,” say the people.
“Only you must fill out this bewildering stack of forms every few months,” says the government.

The food pantry I worked with was able to serve people with higher incomes than the food stamp program did – one could receive three days’ worth of groceries if the family’s income was anywhere below 185% of the poverty level. Interacting with people, it became clear that if anyone is less secure than food stamp recipients, it is the “working poor” who hover just above income limits for these kinds of safety net programs. If you are a single mother with few job skills, your options are to stay home with your children and feed, clothe, and provide medical care for them using various welfare programs; or to get a job, put your children in day care, and probably end up continuing to barely provide for your family’s basic needs.

To escape would be a feat of gigantic proportion.

It is true that entitlements become dependencies. 

It is especially true for the youngest people.

“You deserve a new car upon college graduation!” shouts the television.
“I think you are right,” say the people.
“Only you must add this little bit of debt onto the mountain of your school loans,” says the television. “But don’t worry. We can all pretend it’s not really there.”

commercial, graduate, college, car, giftI’ve seen several variations on this advertisement from different car dealerships. If asked, I suppose we’d all agree that the only thing one has actually earned upon college graduation is a diploma and hearty congratulations. But it is nice to hear someone say that you deserve more. It’s almost like they recognize your worth. If you are a young person uncertain of your place in the world, it is easy to believe that entering the world of adults requires certain paraphernalia and thus, that the world owes it to you. The world obliges, offering you a car and a new professional wardrobe and a nice watch and a house just a bit nicer than the one whose mortgage you knew you could truly afford.

To escape would mean giving all that up; and then what did you even go to college for?

It is true that entitlements become dependencies. 

It is especially true for the individualist.

“Your money entitles you to whatever goods are available at whatever price they are available,” says the market.
“This is the way it has always been,” say the people.
“Only do not imagine that the cost of something is anything other than the price that you pay for it,” replies the market, and we oblige.

We all know, on some level, that our purchases connect us to other people – even if it’s only that, of the twenty we hand to the grocery store clerk, a few pennies will go to her, a few pennies to her supervisor, a few dollars to the store owner, a few to a supplier, some manufacturers, and the producers of raw materials. But all these steps are so complex, and so far removed, that thinking about them is maddening, and so functionally it is easier to believe that tomatoes and boxes of crackers appear on the shelves by magic while we are sleeping. It often seems pointless to think about where things came from and how they got to us, because there are so few alternatives anyway. We go on buying cheap chocolate, cheap toys, cheap clothes, because we need them and they’re there and someone else has taken responsibility for the logistics of it all (how kind of them). The free market floods the shelves with forty-seven kinds of tea, lets us make our choice amidst the overwhelming options, all while hoping we’ll be so enthralled by flavors and colors we’ll forget to notice the Fair Trade label is missing. And so, instead of magic, it’s our slaves who go on working for us in other time zones, while we are sleeping.

food, grocery, aisle, boxes, cookiesTo escape would require sacrifice and help from other people.

It would require that we acknowledge our own entitlement-dependencies and lose our license to judge others for theirs; and then we might find ourselves angry enough to actually leave the systems we all currently serve. It would force us to question assumptions – to put it calmly – and stop listening to lies – to put it biblically. We’d have to find out where our stuff came from, and probably figure out how to get it somewhere else – or to do without it. Yes, we would do a lot of doing without. But maybe we’d find ourselves less burdened by imaginary needs, and more willing to ask a favor rather than demand access to a right. We’d discover the joy of producing rather than consuming. We’d discover that the things we thought we needed to have weren’t essentials at all, but were just excess baggage, weighing us down.

Some dependencies are nearly impossible to escape. Those of us who have a choice at all are usually not expected to make it with much seriousness, but we must. No tea at all is an option available to us. Will we choose it – will we be thankful that we are free?

Lyndsey lives in Boston, MA where she is pursuing her Master's in Theological Studies at Boston University. She enjoys Community, Mad Men and Beauty and the Beast and her spirit animal is a sloth. She would like to know if this is some kind of interactive theater art piece. You can follow her on Twitter @lyndseygraves and you can find more of her writing at her blog To Be Honest.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.
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Friday, September 20, 2013

God and the 9-5 Culture

by Jonathan Harrison

Dead in the shower at 21 years old. That's how London authorities found Moritz Erhardt last month. Shortly after the story of the banking intern hit the news, rumors began to spread that Moritz had worked 72 straight hours before collapsing in the shower at his London flat. In the two weeks prior to his death, Moritz reportedly pulled 8 all-nighters. If you believe the rumors, Moritz Erhardt literally worked himself to death.

I don't work in the financial industry, so I don't know what part of banking required Moritz to work an inhuman number of hours. However,everyone knows someone like Moritz. Everyone knows the person that works an inhuman amount of hours in the office for the sake of being successful in their career. I don't think there is anything wrong with wanting to be successful, but I also have to ask: "What's so magical about spending so much time at work?"

Most sane people will answer that question with "Idk." However, work tends to make a large number of people insane. In the case of Moritz, if the young man knew that the internship would kill him, he probably would have tried to get more sleep or contemplate a career change; however, he didn't know the internship would kill him, and he probably envisioned a very lucrative career making $250,000+ working for the financial sector of a well known banking company. 

This industry clearly equates monetary worth with time spent working in the office, and while I can't speak for banking sector, I've seen the exact same mentality among my peers at work and in life. For some, the time you spend at work directly correlates to the amount of work you complete: if you leave early to avoid driving in the snow, it means you're lazy and don't want to sacrifice yourself for your job; if you're not willing to stay an extra hour to finish an arbitrary project, maybe they should find someone who will; and if you can finish the same amount of work in two hours that most people achieve in eight hours, you should stay the full eight hours and complete four times as much work as everyone else.

Wait. What? How does this even make sense? Worst of all, a lot of people who think this way consider themselves to be Christian. They claim to worship a God who took a day off. Never mind that computers and the internet have made 9-5 illogical. Never mind that idolizing time spent at work rewards people for not working (if you have be there nine hours, why spend the whole time working? You won't be rewarded for working harder or smarter). Never mind that excessive time spent at work minimizes time spent with family, time spent praying, time spent helping feed the homeless, etc. Idolizing time spent at work ignores the fact that we worship a God that made it one of His ten principle commands to not work 14.28% of the week. How does that make sense, and how can Christians ignore this fact?

For what it's worth, ask yourself what you're doing, why you're doing it, and what you mean to accomplish. The second most recorded regret of those on their death bed was working too much.  Maybe God took the day off for a reason? Who knows. As one of my coworkers told me a few months back "If you make work your idol, it will eat you alive." For some people, like in the case of Moritz Erhardt, this is more than just a cliche statement, but a very stark and real reality. 

Jonathan Harrison recently started coursework to earn his MBA (not a joke). He is the author of Marketing for the Good and wants to give back by teaching nonprofits how to use marketing to improve the world. Follow him on the twitter at @jonateharrison.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.
 
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Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Preying in the Name of God

money, bag, are you going to belong to jesus or not, giving, greed, church

by Sebastian Faust

I’ve heard it in sermons; I’ve read it in books:

“Remember the widow’s mite. Be like the widow.

“We’re passing the hat; put your money in the plate. Because God loves a cheerful giver. Because it’s better to give than to receive. Are you poor? Are you struggling just to get by? We’re passing the hat; turn it over to God, and he will bless you for your faith.

“This church has programs. This church has ministries. This church has beautiful architecture, but the electric bills are a bitch. Give, and it shall be given unto you. God will surely provide.

“Be a good widow. We’re passing the hat. Put your money in the plate and nobody gets hurt.

“Remember the widow’s mite,” they say.
gifts beyond measure, widow, mite, matthew, jesus, temple, church, greed 
“There was a widow on the temple grounds. Amidst the pomp and the music and the colonnades, she walked with a bowed head, a bowed back, gnarled fingers clutching a threadbare purse. She could not read the Law, but she knew the commandments. She knew God wanted her to give. Quietly, humbly, she gave her last pittance.

“She gave from her poverty, an offering to the glory of God. Surrounded by the rich who made a fanfare of their offerings, who gave from their wealth, an offering to their own glory.

"She trusted that God would provide, that his eye was on the sparrow, that God would give back in full measure, shaken down and running over. With the faith of a saint, she gave what she had.

It may be small, but if it's your all, it's enough
“Go, and do likewise,” they say.

“Standing across the courtyard, an unorthodox rabbi pointed her out to his disciples. ‘She is blessed.  She gave all that she had and placed her hopes in God. Go, and do likewise.’”

But the problem is, he never said that, that “go and do likewise” bit. This wasn’t an object lesson on how to give. It was an object lesson on how not to take.

Did Jesus commend the widow? He did. He saw her act, he saw her heart, and he was touched; he was moved with sympathy. But that’s not how the story ends. His sympathy didn’t move him to laud her as an example; it moved him to curse the system that preyed on her. Because it’s a scene in a bigger story, a story that starts with a fig tree.



Once, there was a fig tree, green as summer, clothed in splendor, proclaiming the promise of fruit. By their fruits you shall know them.

fig tree, jesus, cursed, fruitOnce, there was a fig tree, ripe with promise, declaring to the world that it was laden with fruit, abundant and delicious and bearing food for the hungry.

A man climbed a mountain to see this tree, to taste its fruit. “This is a marvel,” he said, for it was not the season for figs. Yet there it was, alive and abundant. The fig tree blessed by God.

The man came close. He pushed the leaves aside, one by one. He walked round the tree. He looked in the high branches; he looked in the low. But there was no fruit. You shall know them by their fruit.

This man, he cursed. He cursed the tree. He turned away in disgust.



temple, jesus, widow, mite, scattered Once, there was a temple, high on a mountain, shimmering gold in the morning sun. Once, there was a temple, tall and beautiful, the footstool of God, the house of prayer for all nations.

Once, there was a temple, ripe with promise, declaring to the world that it was filled with righteousness.

A man climbed a mountain to see this temple, to behold its goodness. “This is a marvel,” his friends said, for it was beauty with no rival. “This is a temple blessed by God.”

The man came close. He looked for the fruits of righteousness in the temple courts. He looked for goodness among the colonnades. But there was no fruit. By their fruits you shall know them.

temple, jesus, scattered, angry, greed
This man, he cursed. He cursed the temple. He disrupted its commerce, scattered its merchandise, flung its money to the paving stones. He cursed a system and its constituents who would “devour widows’ houses” and in the very next verse he watches with pity as a poor widow brings her very last coins to pay the temple dues. Because she was told to. Because she was told to trust in God. He did not say, “Go, and do likewise.” This man, he cursed. He turned away in disgust. He left the temple grounds.



withered, tree, jesus, cursed, fig, fruitThe man, his friends, they returned the way they’d come. They climbed from one mountain to another. At the crest stood the fig tree, once so green, now withered, blasted branches, blighted leaves. His friends, they marveled. “Look,” said one, “the fig tree which you cursed.”

“Do not be astonished,” said the man.

Looking back across the valley, he surveyed the temple mount. His friends turned to see. “Look,” said one, “the mountain, the temple which you cursed.” The man, he nodded. “Whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be flung into the sea,’ whoever says, and trusts in God, it shall be so.”



temple, mount, widow, mite, jesus, anger, scattered, greedI’ve heard it in sermons; I’ve read it in books. But that doesn’t make it so. This isn’t a story about how to give. It’s a story about how not to take.

And so I shall say to a system that preys on the poor, that trades on the trusts of the weak, ascribes goodness to greed, reckons faithfulness by a widow’s last farthings: Be scattered. Be broken. Be flung into the sea. And it shall be so. Now go. And do likewise.

Sebastian Faust is an avowed heretic, armchair theologian, and a self-styled canary in the coal mine of pop culture. He takes life by the reins, bulls by the horns, and tigers by the tail, all while living in Nashville. You can't follow Sebastian on Twitter because he doesn't understand technology.

You can, however, follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.


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