When People Are Commodities
by Rev. Cindy Halvorson, MDiv, DMin
Years ago, we toured the Hoover Dam. The harnessing of the energy from the Colorado River was an amazing feat! The pictures of the concrete structure and scaffolding stretching high above the deep cavern caused me to inhale sharply. In the construction phase, there had been people on those structures, high above ground, precariously perched! Multiple deaths were connected to its construction. The official record claims 96 people lost their lives. While touring the dam, we heard about the budget created for the project, which shockingly calculated human lives as an expenditure for the endeavor. It seems harsh and cold to estimate a death toll as a line item in a budget, as if humans can be quantifiable as a commodity.
I wonder how often people feel like commodities. Within our society, many people in the workforce feel expendable, invisible, and reduced to being nothing more than a cog in the machine. Employees generate a product, an idea, or a service. In exchange they are given a paycheck. Quotas and expectations are shaped to get the most from the worker within a specific time period. Employers experience their employees wrangling to get as much money, time off, and helpful benefits from them as possible. A transactional interchange is born; both groups feeling as though they are not valued, except for what they provide for the other; both groups feeling as if they are viewed as commodities.
We want our faith communities to stand as a haven from feeling like we are commodities to be used up and discarded once we are no longer useful. The language we use to describe our faith-based organizations speaks to our desire, utilizing words like “community” and “family.” And yet, when I have conversations with religious leaders, whether professional or volunteer, regarding their anxieties and concerns, I often hear, “We need young families with children in our church.” When I press them about this statement, it is common to hear that while there is concern for the spiritual well-being of young families, there is a strong sentiment that, “Without young families, our church will die.” and “We’re tired. We need their energy and volunteerism to keep our programs going.” While it may not be the intent of those who speak these words, this type of thinking turns people into commodities within our religious institutions. In order to change the course of an aging congregation, young families are seen as valuable resources from which to gain ongoing life and vitality. As people of faith, we are quick to say that people must not be objectified, that humans are valuable and precious; yet when faced with decline and demise, many religious communities are willing to grasp for others to ensure their survival. This grasping relegates human beings to the role of commodities and exploits people in the pursuit of institutional survival.
Some, I suspect, will want to push back on my pointed words. I understand. I’m not that pleased with them myself. We argue that we really care for young families and we want them to have a faith community that enhances their lives. And yes, this is true. Yet, if we truly cared about young families and their concerns, would we be willing to go to where they are instead of asking them to come to where we are? Would we shift our volunteer focus to the spaces and programs of young families at a location that is not connected to our churches, instead of asking young families to shift their volunteer efforts to accommodate the church’s programs and schedules? What if we cared enough for young families that we would devote our resources on their behalf instead of asking them to expend their assets on behalf of religious institutions?
What I am proposing is in sharp contrast to the way we often understand the way forward for our faith communities. And yet, it seems to me that it aligns with the true mission to which we are called. Could it be that our perspective needs some adjustment? Maybe we, as a global faith community, are being invited to the deeper purpose of losing our lives in order to minister to and care for others.
Primarily, I work with leaders, churches, and denominations of the Christian faith tradition. As I ponder the invitation to move beyond institutional survival and move toward deep connection and valuing others, I wonder if other faith traditions are experiencing this same struggle. What I do know is this: We, as human beings, are all urged to connect deeply with others and truly care for them. I wonder … What would it look like to shift our attention from concern about the lifespan of our institutions to caring enough about others to meet them where they are? I wonder … Are we willing?
May all our wonderings and wanderings lead us home.
