Jesus the Plastics Consumer, Consumed (Luke 9)

Christ in the House of his Parents, John Everett Millais, 1849-1850

by Lowell Bliss, Director of Eden Vigil Institute for Environmental Leadership

This Bible reflection first appeared in the June 2023 newsletter of Climate Intercessors.

Jesus died for us. We often need to be reminded that he also lived for us. I don’t simply mean that he lived long enough to articulate for us a set of teachings, as wonderful an accomplishment as that is. I mean that in his incarnation, in his en-flesh-ment, as an embodied being embedded in creation, Jesus showed us how to be a human being. This month’s theme prayers for Climate Intercessors will feature the role that plastics—its production and its pollution—play in climate change. Jesus showed us how to be a consumer.

Of course, it’s hard, maybe even silly, to imagine Jesus of Nazareth in our world of ubiquitous plastic. To the extent that he was busy in his earthly father’s carpentry shop, we can imagine him consuming timber and lumber. He certainly ate and drank, and because he wasn’t as austere as his cousin John, the cynical mob once accused him of being “a glutton and a drunkard” (Matt 11:19). Jesus was a human being, and H. sapiens as a species was created by God to metabolize, to consume. We could consider our consumption of plastic goods and ask that popular question, “What Would Jesus Do?” (Is it ironic that the beads on WWJD? bracelets are invariably made of plastic?) The late Christian writer Dallas Willard taught that the more helpful query is to ask: “What would Jesus do if he were me?” (WWJDIHWM?) The spirit of Christ is in us, ready to engage our habits of consumption.

I believe the principle that the life of Christ brings to this discussion is: the best consumer—since consumers we must be-- is the one who orders their life around first being consumed.

When, in the Old Testament, God and the language of consumption are linked together, it is almost always as a fire that issues from God’s presence to consume offerings, sacrifices, or the wicked sinner (e.g., Lev 9 and 10). Even the writer of Hebrews will comment, “for our God is a consuming fire” (12:29). It’s not surprising that Jesus’ disciples would carry the perspective of God-the-consuming-fire into their attempts to figure out who Jesus is. One time, they were traveling to Jerusalem. Jesus sent some messengers ahead into a Samaritan village to arrange lodging for the night, but the villagers refused them. The sons of Zebedee were incensed. “Lord, do You want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” they asked, apparently sure of the righteousness of their indignation, and confident of their ability to command heaven. “But [Jesus] turned and rebuked them, and said, ‘You do not know what kind of spirit you are of; for the Son of Man did not come to destroy men’s lives, but to save them’” (Luke 9:54–56 NASB, footnote: from late manuscripts). Jesus repeatedly makes it clear that his ministry is not one of consumption, but rather of himself “being consumed” by sinful and wicked people. The gospel, as it does for so much else, flips the consumption model on its head. In many ways, it is similar to the verse Mark 10:45, “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Or as John 12:47 says: “For I did not come to judge the world, but to save the world.”

 The gospel bids us to come and follow him, to in fact be consumed as he was consumed. Henri Nouwen wrote his book Life of the Beloved around the four participles of the Eucharist: taken, blessed, broken, given. “These words also summarize my life as a Christian,” Nouwen writes, “because, as a Christian, I am called to become bread for the world: bread that is taken, blessed, broken, and given.” At one point, Nouwen talks of physical pleasures, such as sharing a meal together:

 Don’t you think that our desire to eat together is an expression of our even deeper desire to be food for one another? Don’t we sometimes say: “That was a very nurturing conversation. That was a refreshing time”? I think that our deepest human desire is to give ourselves to each other as a source of physical, emotional and spiritual growth . . . As the Beloved ones, our greatest fulfillment lies in becoming bread for the world. That is the most intimate expression of our deepest desire to give ourselves to each other.

 Being consumed for the sake of each other plays itself out in the most practical of ways. Purposeful living in Christ means that, on numerous occasions for numerous decisions, we get to re-enact a Christlike moment where we stop and ask the Holy Spirit, “Is this a situation where I’m called to consume or to ‘be consumed’?” The only hope for our inter-locking crises of climate change and plastic pollution is for us to stop and say that we have consumed so much of the resources of this planet and so much of the livelihoods of the poor and vulnerable, but now we ask: “How can I be bread for you?”

References:

Henri Nouwen, Life of the Beloved (New York: Crossroad, 1992), 42.

Note: much of the content, including some text first appeared in Lowell’s book, Environmental Missions: Planting Churches and Trees (William Carey Publishing, 2013, Kindle edition).