I was astonished earlier this year when a discredited local pastor sued his former church for $800,000 per year that he said he was owed in retirement. Greed and entitlement are the words that immediately came to mind. It reminded me of a pivotal scene in All the Money in the World (2017), which details the kidnapping of John Paul Getty’s grandson.
The kidnappers cut off the ear of the grandson and sent it to the titan. Getty’s assistant begs him to pay the ransom, but Getty refuses, citing his many grandchildren and the potentially huge financial payout. The assistant pleads with Getty, “But you’re the richest man in the world. How much money do you need?” And Getty answers, “More!”
The consumerism and greed that have become part of American culture have also permeated the American church.
Before the 20th century, Americans valued frugality and thrift as hunger and starvation were very real threats. American consumerism became a dominant cultural force in the 1920s and especially the post-World War II era, driven by the expansion of the middle class, the introduction of cars and radios, the growth of credit, and the post-war economic boom. This sociological shift meant that material possessions and wealth became an important measure of happiness and success.
In an online forum for the University of Alabama at Birmingham’s Institute for Human Rights, Lexie Woolums writes:
One of the things that dominate[s] American society is what I like to call the “epitome of excess.” … Our society’s culture defines American success as getting promoted to a position high enough that one can make enough money to purchase a big house in the suburbs, add a few cars, and have an annual family vacation.
Influencers on social media have added to this growing consumption. … This cultural desire to keep up with trends causes a constantly growing urge to have more.”
We often call this phenomenon “keeping up with the Joneses,” but make no mistake: this constant push for more and more often leads to bitter psychological and spiritual ends like greed and materialism. Jesus himself tells us that a disciple has no possessions (Luke 14:33) and that we cannot serve both money and the Lord (Matt. 6:24).
Of course, there is another side to this perspective. In 39 years of marriage to an ordained person, I can safely say that I have very rarely seen overpaid people in ministry. In fact, a clear and painful memory of years ago is one of the wardens admonishing the church staff to “trust God” when the budget once again did not allow for pay raises. This was particularly tough because that man’s pay was highlighted in our city paper as one of the top executive salaries in the metropolitan area.
One of the simplest ways to take hold of this difficult topic is the Ignatian concept of “holding things lightly,” which is also called “holy indifference.” Kevin O’Brien, author of The Ignatian Adventure, puts it like this: “indifference means that we hold all of God’s gifts reverently, gratefully, but also lightly, embracing them or letting them go, all depending on how they help us fulfill our vocation to love in everyday, concrete details.” Or, put another way, one’s only pursuit is God and doing his will, while all other things are easily abandoned, if necessary, in pursuit of that one holy purpose.
Many of us experience, year by year, the phenomenon of Black Friday inaugurating the holiday shopping season and all of the hype and bargain-hunting that entails. Fr. Timothy Vavarek says this: “A significant part of the answer, I believe, lies in the way consumerist society plays upon the inherent weaknesses of fallen human nature. Consumerism creates and nourishes human desire for temporal goods and for the sense of well-being that the acquisition and possession of those goods can provide. We are conditioned never to be satisfied with a sufficiency.”
One reason this is so perilous is that people with lots of resources can begin to think that they are self-sufficient, or not in need of anything they cannot provide. But the heart of the gospel is that all of us need something or someone outside ourselves. Christians call this savior Jesus. Theologically, all humans are unable to save themselves, but repeatedly over our years in ministry, we have seen people unable to come to God because they never recognized their need for him.
In April 2025, only weeks before his death, Walter Bruggeman wrote on the Church Anew blog:
The three prophetic citations together attest to the preoccupation of Israelite society with the accumulation of and desire to exhibit wealth, control, and success. And of course such preoccupation with the possession and exhibit of consumer goods skews all societal relationships. It leads to leverage of owners over debtors, of bosses over laborers. The practice runs all the way from ancient Pharaoh to our current economic reliance on the cheap labor of non-whites in our most affluent economy. Our seemingly limitless appetite for consumption requires cheap goods and cheap labor that inevitably skews all social relationships. The pursuit of more and more consumer goods leads to more discontent and the compelling desire for “the next product” that we assume and hope will bring wellbeing and happiness.
Consumerism has invaded the church by treating faith and church like a commercial product that caters to personal preference and even entertainment (i.e., good music, coffee, and short, witty sermons). This often leads to church shopping, a marketing over mission mindset, and spiritual shallowness, which clashes with the Christian values of service and selflessness. In his seminal book The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer warned against cheap grace, which he defined as “grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.”
C.S. Lewis took it further: “Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is moderately important.” Both writers challenge Christians to recognize the profound significance of their faith. In other words, our belief system should be the most important aspect of our lives, not some addition to round out our otherwise full lives.
Several years ago, my husband and I had dinner with one of his seminary classmates, now rector of a large Midwestern church, who told us, “Giving is up and attendance is up, but I don’t see many changed lives.” Jesus’ final instructions to his followers were, “Go and make disciples,” which leads to the kind of spiritual and lasting transformation that outshines our misdirected attempts at marketing.
Pete Scazzero, author of Emotionally Healthy Discipleship, writes that the church at large has four failures that inhibit healthy discipleship: we tolerate emotional immaturity, we forget church history, we emphasize doing for God rather than being with him, and we define success wrongly.
For our purposes, the last two failures are most important. As long as we see busyness as a sign of healthy spirituality, our priorities are misaligned. God calls us to a rich, intimate relationship with him, as stated by the psalmist: “Be still and know that I am God.” A church schedule that is too packed with events and activities makes us ignore our real spiritual needs and focus on the chaotic hurriedness. And defining success in terms of numbers, whether it is attendance or money, shifts our view away from God’s view that every person we encounter is created for a loving relationship with him.
Recently I had a conversation with a young rector who said, “It turns out that even on big feast days like Christmas or Easter, it’s never wrong to preach the gospel.” As I smiled and nodded my head, I was reminded of these words in 1 Peter 3:15: “But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.”
The gospel is not spread by slick marketing and consumerism. And the gospel is still good news, even when it’s not flashy or entertaining. My prayer for myself and my community is to put aside branding and consumerism in order to slow down and get to know the Jesus in the gospels. He still moves stones, even our hearts of stone.
Marcia Hotchkiss is program director of The Abbey in the City in Dallas. She recently wrote Hope-Peace-Love-Joy: An Advent Devotional (Bible Study Media Inc.) with Gilda Hurst.
