Well, Dana Gioia, head of the National Endowment for the Arts, is preaching to the choir here, but I was so moved by his
commencement address at Stanford University. He touched exactly what ails our shallow culture, and what can be done to correct the problem.
I too, like the graduates at Stanford, spent my college years in a lovely (though stressful) environment of debates, challenges to my thought process, and a thorough affirmation of the importance of art--not merely for those who may make a living producing it, but for the culture as a whole. My professors in Art Education stressed with every class, lesson evaluation, and lecture, that we were not to present children with factory-like project assignments that value sameness, but to present problems for children to solve. An entire three-credit class, Critical Thinking through Media, pounded the concept home.
It was a shock to enter the wider world of standardized tests, frequent schedule changes, and creativity-stifling art "curriculum" materials. Even though I was fortunate enough to have the best principal in the county as my leader and very supportive Art administrators for the county, I still was struck by the fact that very few people cared a whit about art. It was very discouraging, though it was a reality I had to face.
Nine years later, I am now fully engaged in the world of Suburbia, where consumption is the law, and creative thinking is unnecessary because we can get anything we want, almost any time. There's really no need to solve problems, if you live in a bubble of luxury and have learned to tune out the news. It is exhausting to swim against that current, but essential to do so.
Recently I have read two books on the subject, which have been very challenging for me to think through. One is called
Death by Suburb, by David Goetz, and the other is called
The Suburban Christian by Albert Hsu. Both are about the impact the suburbs have on our faith, and ways to redeem suburbs. Goetz's book is a more personal approach, talking about his own struggles with materialism, church-hopping, and the frenetic busyness of the place. Hsu takes a more sociological approach, discussing how the suburbs became such a dominant force. He also offers practical ways to stem the tide of consumerism and self-absorption, which are especially dangerous for Christians to slip into (or is it "buy into?"). We live with unprecedented luxury, health, educational opportunities, freedom, and convenience, and it is critical to maintain a global perspective--our brothers and sisters around the world must not be forgotten as we jet to the next big-box store to buy more disposable junk.
It was, naturally, very uncomfortable reading for me, as my first response is guilt for my wastefulness and love of "stuff." But Hsu wasn't necessarily demanding what Christ asked of the rich man (sell all you have and give to the poor, then come follow me),--though who should object to that command--but to at the very least broaden our awareness of the lifestyle we lead, and question the actions that are so habitual in suburban life. For example, suburbia is not a pedestrian-friendly place, which contributes to a high level of obesity and other health problems. He suggests ways to promote walking more. Another example of a habitual action is not paying attention to where our goods are coming from. This has made headlines recently with toy recalls from China, for lead levels. But other countries providing goods for us have unfair labor practices, political turmoil and persecution of religious minorities. Hsu suggests picking one item you buy normally, and find out as much as you can about where it comes from, and whether or not the same item can be found from makers with more ethical practices. Coffee and bananas were his examples. It's a lot of work, but it also helps us to connect these anonymous goods to a human face, and remember that people created in God's image are involved in every stage of bringing these things to us.
