How Have I Accommodated “Empire” as a Christian?

Reflections on Luke 8:29–36, Capitalism, and Consumerism

Luke 8:29–36 is one of the most bizarre stories in the Bible, and that’s saying something for a book that includes angels having sex with women to produce the mysterious giant race known as the Nephilim.

In this strange story, Jesus exorcizes a host of demons calling themselves “Legion” from a man living naked among Gentile tombs. He sends the demons into a herd of pigs, which immediately stampede into the Sea of Galilee.

Recently, I wrote about Diana Butler Bass’s mind-blowing interpretation of this story. Bass argues that Luke 8:29–36 is not an account of a literal, historical event; rather, it is an incisive political commentary.

The story takes place in a region with strong associations with the Roman Empire. The locals had accommodated themselves to Greco-Roman culture and the Roman Empire, going so far as to raise and sell pigs to its soldiers.

The demons in the story are named Legion after the Roman military unit. They oppress the man and strip him of his dignity, leaving him homeless, naked, and raving mad.

Then Jesus grants the demons’ request to enter a herd of pigs, and the Legion destroys itself in the animals it buys and eats. Comedic irony. But the local Jews don’t celebrate. They become afraid and ask Jesus to leave.

Maybe they feared the consequences of poking fun at the Roman Empire? Perhaps they feared the disruption of their comfortable lives?

The story can be seen as pushing back against those Jews who had accommodated themselves to Empire, who accepted the degradation of oppression, thinking as Bass puts it, “Our lives are good enough.”

How have I accommodated myself to “Empire”? How have I settled for a life that seems “good enough” instead of becoming the person God intended me to be?

“Empire” doesn’t have to mean a powerful, dominant nation whose territory sprawls over a large area. It can also mean a “system of dominance.” It can refer to a system that you can’t not engage with in some way.

Capitalism and Consumerism

When I’m out and about, I’ll buy a $3.50 cup of Starbucks coffee without a second thought. But then I refuse to give $5 to a homeless person in need. If I give to every homeless person I see, I’ll go broke.

I’ll walk right past a homeless person sitting in blankets and rags outside a Whole Foods, on my way to spend money at one of the more expensive grocery stories on the planet. Once inside, I quickly forget about the person, and I don’t even carry out a drink and a snack for him.

I’ll ignore the man asking for donations to help homeless youth, while waiting to enter a theatre and watch a play I paid almost a hundred bucks to watch for three hours.

All the little things I buy add up. I don’t keep track, but I know I must spend hundreds of dollars each month on coffee, eating out, and similar treats.

But then I’m reluctant to sponsor another child through Compassion International. I worry about affording another recurring $40 expense.

Yet I’ll sign up for Disney+ for $8 a month, join a member’s only website for $5 a month, and subscribe to magazines for $10 a month.

Submerged all my life in the waters of capitalism and consumerism, I find myself only dimly aware of how I’ll spend small amounts of money on myself or my family without question or hesitation. I notice only sometimes how we’ll try to save a buck here and there while spending far more on the mortgage for a bigger house than we truly need.

Sometimes, I consider becoming more intentional and counter-cultural with my consumerism. But then I find myself swimming upstream against the “empire” of capitalism and consumerism. You’re supposed to want a big, nice house, both for living and as an asset. You’re supposed to enjoy big vacations and holidays, you earned them.

It’s hard to argue against buying Starbucks when I’m nodding off at the wheel, buying $80 of baseball lessons for my son because he loves the sport, or accepting my wife’s purchase of ANOTHER pair of shoes, which she found at a too-good-to-pass-up discount, which makes her almost as happy as the new, perfect-for-that-outfit shoes themselves.

Which is to say, I endorse buying things that improve our lives, that make us happy, that create memories for us.

And we do seek out good deals and values. My wife is a world-class bargain shopper, and our son has learned that we don’t buy slushies at the local Sonic outside of their 2–4 pm Happy Hour.

But I wish I was more generous, and I wish even resistance to capitalism and consumerism did not mean we can’t not engage with those systems.

How Could I Become Something Else?

How could I become more generous? How could I become more intentional about my spending?

I’ve always been a saver, which is good and bad. It’s good because, well, I save money for the future. It’s bad because I’ll never have “enough.” The future is uncertain. Better be prepared for anything.

The truth, thankfully, is that my family and I have more than enough. We can meet our material needs without stressing, enjoy fun outings, and take big vacations.

Most importantly, if our financial circumstances changed, I think we could adjust fairly well. It would be tough, of course, but our ultimate values as a family transcend money, stuff, and even experiences.

So, perhaps I can become more generous — more willing to give a few bucks from my pocket, more apt to sponsor another child through Compassion International — if I remember that we have all we need and more, that we’ll be okay whatever the future brings, that the Christian’s ultimate hope resides in Christ and the Resurrection, not a savings account.

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