IT’S (about) the economy stupid, was Bill Clinton’s refrain. We live in a society that is besotted with the price of everything and the value of nothing. It costs a quarter of a million to have and rear a child; Good Friday closing would cost €12 million; the Government jet costs €8,000 an hour; the list goes on. The cost of everything becomes increasingly dominant in all our decisions as other values wane.
Traditions, morals, enjoyment and community benefit are far less important as we grumble at our measly tills. It has always been so.
Wishing that things were otherwise is utopian. Money is the physical currency of most essential human interaction. From the purchase of bread to the provision of a home, the paper stuff decides the quality, quantity and comforts of our lives. It fuels our chatter as we speak of wastefulness in a time of recession and drives our longings in a lottery-besotted dream world.
Like any god, its devotees believe in its absolute power and claim its existence as a ground for a good life. Yet it is a castle built on sand. We spent money based on fictional property values. We borrowed more and more in the belief that gravity had no role in property prices. We were wrong. We believed that a self-regulating financial service would never harm its own interests. We were wrong again. We still believe that the value of our information-based services will always find an equal demand from the food, textile and appliance- producing societies. We are wrong in this one too!
In church this weekend we will hear the comfortless story of Lazarus and the rich man. From his recession-themed torment in Hades, the rich man begs for the relief of a kindly-given drop of water, but is refused. In his meaningless world there is no salvation. Caught, like so many of us, in a world of simple fiscal reality, he can only accept disappointment.
There is only one remedy to loss of wealth and that is its replacement. Short of this, nothing will bring comfort. Anybody who senses that they have been cheated on land or other wealth will certainly complain about it for the rest of his or her days.
The cult of Mammon has never claimed to be benign or merciful, so its adherents must accept the sad inevitability of a plight that follows building a castle upon sand. The psalms of the new Hebrews echo through every discussion on television and radio.
The politician priests are expected to perform some ritual that will restore the kingdom to the chosen people. Eaten bread may be soon forgotten, but borrowed money never lets you overlook its demands. No sacrifice will make this god turn and restore us to favour. It was never his way.
Yet the anger and negativity is far from universal. For every vulture that awaits the settlement terms of the next celebrity divorce there is a dove that prays concern for a family torn apart. For every lion that roars rage at the failure of politicians there is a lamb that tries to keep going under reduced circumstances. For every shark that lurks in wait for the next undiplomatic remark there is Christ, the fish, hauling the plank from its own blinded eyes. Every child is not a child of Mammon. There are many who still believe that failure is a challenge to start again, that error is a chance to learn and that personal sin is an opportunity to seek mercy and forgiveness. The problem is that you cannot hear us above the roaring anger of the Mammonists in Hades.
It’s about the stupid economy! – Christ. – FMacE