Black Friday Week???

I got an email ad this week from a retailer with this subject line:

"It's Black Friday Week! Get Started With These Great Offers."

Really? "Black Friday Week"? Has it come to that? Not only has our commercialized Christmas overwhelmed everything from Labor Day to New Year's Day, but now we are renaming Thanksgiving after a shopping day!

Ok. I know some of you who know me recognize this as my annual holiday rant. But the fact that I'm ranting doesn't change the fact that this is just simply disturbing. Predictable? Probably. Inevitable? Maybe. Pitifully materialistic? Definitely.

And the fact that I'm now working with a non-profit for inner city kids, trying to raise money so they can have something for Christmas, has nothing to do with it. Neither does the fact that I feel a little guilty about living in a brand new house that's nicer than we deserve, and we just helped a poor neighbor with her family's Thanksgiving meal. Neither does that fact that I already feel guilty for how much of a glutton I'm going to be tomorrow. Nor the fact that my car and laptop are both dying and I can afford to replace them both and still buy Christmas presents for all my family.

The only relevant fact is that a season once devoted to thanksgiving, and generosity, and penitence, and celebration of the advent of our Savior is now just one huge, seemingly endless, exercise in consumerism and self-indulgence.

If you are as disturbed by all this as I am, and concerned about the impact on your family, and feeling a little guilty too, then you might check out the Advent Conspiracy for ideas for a meaningful season. (Or, if you'll pardon the shameless plug, check out the Y.E.S. Christmas Store.)

Have a Happy Thanksgiving! And if you must venture out into the shopping madness on Friday, perhaps you might shine a little brightness into the blackness by following John the Baptist's advice and "if you have two coats, share with someone who has none; and if you have food, do the same."

I'm through ranting now.

Amos: The Annoying Prophet

"Hear this word, you cows of Bashan on Mount Samaria,
you women who oppress the poor and crush the needy
and say to your husbands, "Bring us some drinks!" (Amos 4:1)

"Cows of Bashan"! Can you imagine any preacher in his right mind getting up and calling the ladies of the church, "cows of Bashan"?
No wonder Amos wasn't very popular.

In a recent sermon in our series on the Mighty Acts of God, we talked about Amos and other prophets who preached about the Exile. Since that lesson, I've been thinking now and then about what Amos would say today. And, to be honest, it makes me pretty uncomfortable. I doubt he'd be very popular today either.

For example, he castigates the Israelites because "they sell the poor for a pair of sandals" (2:6; 8:6). Those are harsh words, and at first glance I'm just glad that I would never do such thing. . . . Or would I?

We American consumers are noted for caring only about getting the lowest possible price for the things we want. The consequence of that market pressure is that companies are always looking for ways to provide products at a lower cost than their competitors. Inevitably, some companies will find they can do that by purchasing goods from foreign suppliers who pay pitifully low wages for extremely long hours, do little or nothing to provide for the safety and health of their employees, and even use child labor. Is it possible that my shopping choices contribute to the selling of the poor for a cheaper pair of sandals?

And then there is that annoying sermon in the first few verses of chapter 6. Our small group spent a little time one evening imagining how Amos' words might translate into our culture. It's easy to read words about "ivory beds" and "choice lambs" and "strumming harps" and distance myself from the message. Those don't sound like my life. But what if Amos preached this in contemporary images?
I wonder if he might have said something like this:

Woe to you who are complacent in America,
and to you who feel secure in your cities,
you successful citizens of the foremost nation!
You think the day of consequences is far off,
but bring near a reign of oppression.
You lie on your king-size beds with satin sheets,
and lounge on your couches and recliners.
You dine on fine steaks and grill your extra large burgers.
You watch your widescreen plasma TVs,
and listen to your surround sound home theater systems.
You fill your frig with all your favorite drinks.
You smooth your skin with luxurious lotions.

But you do not grieve over the ruin of your people.

Therefore you will be among the first to face
the coming calamity;
your feasting and lounging will end.

I don't know about you, but I don't think I'd want to go to Amos' church.