Sanctified Consumption

My wife and I go dumpster diving every spring after graduation.  I do the dumpster diving publicly as a bit of a gentle protest—my students know who I am. We usually recover three to four vanloads of stuff each spring. We clean up and donate the small appliances, clothing, bedding, and sometimes furniture that we collect.  We have rarely needed to buy cleaning supplies over the last 15 years because of what we recover each year.  This is just the tip of the iceberg. I doubt the landfill notices what we remove from the waste-stream.

 The thing I find most disturbing about this situation is that we are recovering what gets thrown away despite there being semi-organized donation systems in the dorms and trucks from the local second-hand stores parked in the parking lot.  It is understandable that a student who is flying back home to a warmer climate, never to return, wouldn’t want to take their heavy winter jacket or their microwave, but the fact that they throw them away rather than donate or even sell them speaks volumes. 

I would welcome another explanation, but it appears that many things get thrown away out of pure apathy.  They don’t want to clean the microwave, so they throw it away.  They don’t want to wash the clothing, so they throw it away.  The dumpster is closer than the donation truck, so they throw it away.  I suspect some things even get thrown away because it means they can replace the lightly used items with new ones. 

I’ve kept track of the types of items we’ve recovered of the years. Here are a few examples of our dumpster diving finds.

Expensive things I have pulled out of the dumpster:

• Floor standing high-capacity air-conditioner

• Counter-top dishwasher

• 60”+ flat screen TVs

• Electric scooters (several admittedly needed some repair)

• Specialized brand bike (needed a new tire)

Every year items:

• microwaves

• mini fridges

• Blenders, toasters, fans

• The latest trending water bottles and coffee mugs by the dozens

• Full bedding sets- sheets, mattress pads, comforters

• Athletic gear- lightly worn shoes/spikes/cleats in particular

• Backpacks and jackets

• Industrial garbage bags of clothing

• Cleaning supplies

To be clear, this pattern of disposal is not restricted to college students. I taught in a high school for several years and the same thing happened there on a smaller scale.  Locker clean-out for many students meant dumping everything into the trash – backpack, jacket, graphing calculator, textbooks, coffee mug, organizers, pens, notebooks, even computers.  I worked with “at-risk” sections of students, so I started collecting and cleaning items for use by students the following year.  I had a whole closet full of free school supplies and gear that I had reclaimed from the trash available for those who needed it.

These are small examples of larger patterns of consumption that reveal a worldview shaped by convenience, novelty, and an unexamined sense of detachment from both creation and community; reducing, reclaiming, and reusing what we already have is not merely an environmental practice but can be a moral reorientation that teaches us stewardship, gratitude, and shared belonging within the larger created order. It is a counter to the advertising and unsubtle cultural mantra of “consumptionàproductionàhealthy economy” that are overwhelming our collective critical engagement with these issues. 

The Dordt University mission is full of language related to creation care, and there are many thoughtful, stewardly students.  Unfortunately, there is also a kind of antipathy to environmental concern among some students who seem to feel it is “woke” to care about wastefulness or the environment.

I think Deb Rienstra has correctly identified some major theological/philosophical “weeds” that are particularly part of the problem in the church. We have centered reality around ourselves, rather than seeing ourselves as part of a larger creation loved by God (anthropocentrism), and we have intellectually separated the “spiritual” from “physical” reality (dualism). These presuppositions are incompatible with Jesus’ summary of the Law. How can you love God or your neighbor while disdaining the creation God has called good that your neighbor depends on?

Recently an argument has been put forth that we will innovate our way out of overconsumption. The argument correctly draws from the observation that we have not run into a food crisis as predicted by Paul Ehrlich, and the global standard of living has dramatically improved despite population growth. However, the argument ignores a lot of “externalities” minimizing the fact that a healthy chunk of our improved lifestyle is due to displaced and deferred environmental costs and a significant energy subsidy of questionable sustainability.

There is also the problem of Jevon’s Paradox. As we make things like the generation of energy more efficient, we frequently increase our consumption of them. Efficiency drives down the unit cost, making things more affordable, and people generally become more productive, meaning they have more income to spend. How this has played out suggests strongly that there is no broad moral consideration going into our overall consumption. The answer to “how much is enough?” is inevitably “more.” We never get off the hedonic treadmill.

So what moral considerations should we have and what questions should we be asking as we examine our consumptive habits? Here are a few suggestions:

How does this improve or impoverish my relationship with God and other people? Consumption is a fact of human existence. We are dependent. So while I think that many people should reduce their consumption, I also know plenty of “wealthy” people who are generous and gracious, creating opportunities for others to flourish. Tools and vehicles are easily loaned, spaces are made available to community members. Programs are supported and facilities built that educate and enrich the lives of others.

Take seriously the adage that “everything you own, owns you.” This could be taken several different ways. First it could simply imply that there is a burden of responsibility to care for the things that you own. All your belongings typically require space, maintenance, protection, etc. A major reason people are building bigger homes and increasingly renting storage units is to store their stuff. Secondly, it could be taken as a warning against idolatry. The things you choose to pursue reflect your desires and your heart direction.

Reject a scarcity mindset. We tend to see what we lack rather than appreciate what we have. Advertising and social media lead us into this way of thinking. Everything we have comes at cost and if we take the time to consider those costs, we are more likely to live in gratitude and possibly even consider giving back or paying forward. A beautiful mountain view, clean air, diverse birds in our backyard, the glorious parade of colors of the prairie, are all riches we can enjoy and support with our time and money.

Be aware of the novelty-induced “dopamine rush.” New is not necessarily better. Take time to make purchasing decisions. I have pulled products out of the dumpster that I can’t fully understand. A notable example was a bottle with a motorized little plastic whisk built-in to mix protein powder. I have to imagine this was an impulse buy.

Reward quality craftsmanship. Buy products from manufacturers that have a proven history of making things that last. About 6 years ago I had to replace a 30-year-old dishwasher. I have had to repair the new one three times and replace the dish racks. I have frequently wondered if I should just get rid of it. I know several families who don’t have a dishwasher and value the time together washing the dishes each evening.

What kind of person does my consumption push me toward becoming? A bike or cello can equip us to develop and grow in healthy ways while a new phone might simply facilitate doom-scrolling and brain-rot video consumption. Some things are harder to use in ways that harm us. Sometimes even good things can be overconsumed in ways that dehumanize us. Work is a meaningful part of our lives, and our consumption can undermine it. A recent poem by Joseph Fasano asks a student who used AI on a paper, “…what are you trying to be free of?”

Reward responsible production. It can seem daunting and isn’t fully realistic to track the life-cycle of every product that we consume, but we should have some concern for the impacts of production on a community—socially, environmentally, and economically.

Is this serving the “good” or feeding my ego? There is something to be said for supporting the kind of innovation and creativity that goes into the vehicles we drive and even the clothing we wear but there is also a danger in tying our identity into them or using them as ways to separate ourselves from others and signal economic stature.

Is there an opportunity to share or rent rather than own? Borrowing and lending can be a great way to get to know your neighbors, start a conversation, find a shared interest, learn something new, or start a shared project. We vastly overproduce in a variety of ways simply so that individuals can each have their own. Tools, vehicles, homes, appliances are generally over consumed and very inefficiently used partly so that we don’t feel like we owe anything to a neighbor who might gladly share with us.

These are a few questions and ideas that I think are worth considering to re-form our worldview. As we consider how to live and consume in more God-honoring and neighbor-loving ways, what else might we keep in mind when making decisions about consumption?

I will close with a quote from Wendell Berry, one of my favorite authors, who has deeply shaped my imagination around a theology of consumption (among other things):

“…That is not to suggest that we can live harmlessly, or strictly at our own expense; we depend upon other creatures and survive by their deaths. To live, we must daily break the body and shed the blood of Creation. When we do this knowingly, lovingly, skillfully, reverently, it is a sacrament. When we do it ignorantly, greedily, clumsily, destructively, it is a desecration. In such desecration we condemn ourselves to spiritual and moral loneliness, and others to want.”