I have known Adrian for some 20 or so years, and he and Marion have given me hospitality on different occasions. Humble, smart and always wishing to be authentic. He recently posted on SubStack this article that he gave me permission to re-post here. The link at SubStack (which also gives a link there to follow his posts) is:
God or Mammon – Introduction
This is the first in a series of essays exploring the how the architecture of our existence is shaped either by God or Mammon.
In 2005, I resigned from my position as a senior manager at one of the country’s leading retailers to take on the role of lead pastor at my local church. I had worked for Marks and Spencer for nearly 30 years, was 45 years old, and had felt called to serve in paid ministry since the age of 18. Now, one of my dreams was finally being fulfilled. In my mind, I was leaving the relentless, cutthroat commercial world to serve God and His people!
Looking back, in my naivety, I had failed to fully comprehend that the free-market ideology underpinning the cutthroat commercial world I had left behind held no respect for the imagined boundaries I believed existed between the sacred and the secular—the church and the world. As time went on, it became clear that the lifeblood of “buying and selling” coursed deeply through the veins of the many different forms of church. In truth, much of what I had thought of as “church”—local, national, and global—seemed gripped by the forces of commodity, commerce, and consumerism. Beneath the jargonized spirituality lay the acquisitiveness of the shopper and the shop, the client and the service provider!
Of course, it became starkly apparent that I hadn’t escaped its talons either. While taking some time out on retreat, ten years into my newfound ministry, it dawned on me that in many ways, I had remained a “shopkeeper,” focused on keeping my “customers” happy. I felt as though I was struggling to breathe under the mounting pressure to lead people into ever-new and greener pastures. During this time, I came to realize that the treadmill was less a material reality than an existential one—it lived within me, providing an overarching narrative that governed and judged not only my ministry but my life as well. Anxiety and fear gnawed at my calling, leaving me to wonder whether, as a shepherd of the flock, I could ever truly satiate the deep longing of those I led.
By the grace of God, while on retreat, I came across John chapter 6 and the story of Jesus’ challenge to Philip to feed the five thousand. “‘…He said to him, ‘Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?’ He asked this only to test him…” (John 6:5-6). In short, Philip’s conclusion is that, however long he laboured (on the treadmill), he could never satiate the appetite of those who had gathered. You know the rest of the story! Jesus goes on to describe himself as the bread that comes down from heaven—sustenance and satisfaction without human labour and free from the notion of buying and selling.
My eyes were opened. To use the Apostle Paul’s words, my struggle was not merely with flesh and blood, but with principalities and powers that sought to govern, regulate, and codify not only my life but also the very essence of what it means to be human. A friend refers to these as “the faceless powers that seek to control and influence us.” I wonder—can we put a name to any of these faceless powers? I believe we can!
‘In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.’
Genesis chapter one, verse one, furnishes us, its readers, not just with an account of a God whose creative genius is of cosmic proportions, but also bequeaths us a vision of who God is. Yahweh, by nature, transcends the dark, chaotic mass of the material world and is revealed as the architect of a different reality—a bringer of light where there was darkness and order where there was chaos. His work is to create an architecture for existence—an environment that enables us as humans, God’s image-bearers, to flourish.
Everything has a beginning; all that was created had a starting point, an origin, and Yahweh is that person. The meta-narrative of the creation story teaches us that everything that exists has its origin in something or someone that transcends the material world. It is the transcendent that illuminates our way, brings order to our chaos, and gives shape, form, and meaning to our lives. To use the apostle Paul’s words, the world “in which we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28) finds its structure, definition, and purpose in the story of whichever ‘god’ we serve. The narrative of the Bible is that the very architecture of existence—what it means to be human and ‘do life’—is founded in the person of God.
Yahweh, the God of the creation narrative, is by His very nature a relational being. He is the Triune God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Therefore, it is no surprise that the four primary pillars that support the perfect environment for human flourishing, that is for our living, moving, and having our being, are central in the creation story and that all are relational. First and foremost, though not standing in isolation from the other pillars, is our relationship with the transcendent—with God. Secondly, our relationship with ourselves—knowing myself. Thirdly, knowing one another—we are sociological beings. And finally, our relationship with the earth, the planet, the world, with which we have been entrusted. In the creation story, God constitutes reality by giving His order, shape, and purpose in and through relationships.
If, as it seems to me Paul suggests when he confronts Athenian idolatry, our living, moving, and being find their origin in the ‘god’ that we worship and serve, then it follows that both our individual lives and our collective life can be ordered, shaped, and empowered by ‘another god.’
Which brings us to the words of Jesus:
“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and Mammon.” (Matthew 6:24)
Jesus’ words are profound, clear, and indisputable. We are faced with an ‘either or’ decision. There are two ‘gods,’ two voices that transcend our material world and potentially give purpose, structure, and definition both to our individual and collective ‘living, moving, and being.’ They configure the very framework [PF1] of our collective human existence. Unsurprisingly, they are described relationally, using the terms of love and devotion, and thus it is that both compete for our affection. Ultimately, there are just two ways the world can be ordered. There are just two masters calling for humankind’s fidelity. Humanity must elect to serve God or Mammon. By implication, our collective decision will have a radical impact on the four relational pillars of creation that we talked about earlier. How I understand and relate to myself, how I relate to my neighbour, and how I relate to the world in which I live—these relationships, which have been critical to human flourishing from the beginning, take their form from our worship. These are two opposing kingdoms, and each has an ideological and theological framework that dictates the structure—the architecture—of human existence. The altar at which we sacrifice delineates the architecture of our collective life.
After all, Jesus teaches us that the dwelling-place of God, heaven, is not an ‘otherworldly’ destination, an upward trajectory, or a future disembodied reality. Quite the opposite: it’s a downward trajectory, from heaven to earth. Not only does Jesus teach His disciples to pray, ‘Thy Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven,’ but the apostle John also sees a ‘Holy City…coming down out of heaven.’ Both suggest that heaven’s design must affect the earth’s architecture. So, in His declaration, “You cannot serve God and Mammon,” “No one can serve two masters,” Jesus is suggesting that there are two principal ways in which life in the ‘here and now’ is ordered. There’s the order of God, heaven’s architecture, or alternatively, the world is organized and codified by an alternative transcendent personality, another ‘god.’ Just perhaps, there’s another potential superpower called ‘Mammon,’ enticing humankind into a relationship, ultimately demanding its own code of sacrificial devotion. When Jesus talks about Mammon, it seems to me He’s not merely referring to money—pounds and pence, dollars and dimes. I want to suggest He’s talking about a global social and cultural architecture, an ideology, and its power to systematically control us and the rest of creation – the four pillars of our shared life. This is a ‘god’ that not only exerts its power in shaping an economic vision—which, of course, controls us—but more than that, ‘Mammon’ fundamentally shapes human relationships. This other ‘god,’ like all ‘other gods,’ is by its very nature formational; its character is discipling. It configures our ecological, sociological, and psychological relationships—how we relate to the planet, the people around us, and perhaps most critically, it shapes our identity—our ‘self.’
This ‘either or’ that Jesus articulates is nothing new. There are a great number of Old Testament texts that allude to the need for a life-defining ‘either or’ decision. I’ll mention just three.
First, Moses in Ancient Israel. In the Sinai covenant, the practice of which finds its outworking in the book of Deuteronomy, Moses articulates a clear and decisive ‘either or’ that ancient Israel was faced with. The Ten Commandments call Israel to covenantal fidelity and the loving of their neighbour as self (Exodus 20:1-7). This text is part of the re-imaging of life post-Israel’s emancipation from Pharaoh’s predatory social, economic, and spiritual system in which they had been held captive in Egypt for over 400 years. In the passage, Moses seeks to fend off the “Canaanite” alternative that eventually seduced Israel away from their covenantal fidelity. The term “Canaanite” used in this context is not a reference to ethnicity but alludes to spiritual and socioeconomic [PF2] practices that dehumanize life by the process of commodification, turning neighbours into greedy competitors. They risk a return to the slavery they had been liberated from. Moses identifies the way of the covenant or the “Canaanite” alternative as an ‘either or,’ a “life or death” decision.
See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity. If you obey the commandments of the Lord your God that I am commanding you today, by loving the Lord your God, walking in his ways, and observing his commandments, decrees, and ordinances, then you shall live and become numerous, and the Lord your God will bless you in the land that you are entering to possess. But if your heart turns away and you do not hear, but are led astray to bow down to other gods and serve them, I declare to you today that you shall perish; you shall not live long in the land that you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess. I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the Lord swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob (Deuteronomy 30:15-20).
Moses makes this emphatic declaration because the “Canaanite” alternative appears to offer a life of ease, comfort, and security, when in truth its power is dehumanizing. Eventually, self, neighbour, community, and creation will fall prey to its destructive power.
Secondly, when, finally, Israel is settled in the land of promise, Joshua leads Israel in yet another ‘either or’ decision. He assembles Israel for a critical covenant-making ceremony where he presents his ‘either or,’ exhorting Israel to choose Yahweh, the God of life, and reject all alternatives. ‘Choose this day whom you will serve.’
Now, therefore, revere the Lord and serve him in sincerity and in faithfulness; put away the gods that your ancestors served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the Lord. Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord (Joshua 24:14-15).
And finally, one more example of an Old Testament text that echoes the words of Jesus as He talks about the ‘either or’ of God and Mammon—the prophetic contest on Mt. Carmel. This is where Elijah assembles Israel to hear yet another dramatic ‘either or’ when he says:
How long will you go on limping with two different opinions? If the Lord is God, follow him; but if Baal, then follow him. (1 Kings 18:21).
Elijah tells Israel they can’t have it both ways, saying it’s not possible to be faithful worshipers of God while assimilating the way’s of Ball, the god who embodies the world of commodity, productivity, and profit. They have to decide: who will they serve, God or Baal (Mammon)?
As we have already seen, Jesus stands in the same covenantal tradition as His forbears as He exhorts His listeners, including us, to make a similar ‘either or’ decision. In Christ, we too now stand in that same covenantal tradition and are being challenged to make a similar choice, ‘choose this day whom you will serve,’. And like in the day of Moses or Joshua, it’s a life-or-death decision. Who will we allow to give purpose, structure, and definition to our lives, both individually and collectively?
I am convinced that it is the spirit of Mammon that empowers postmodern capitalism’s ‘Machine’ [PF3] and fuels materialism and consumerism, creating a paradigm of reality defined by ‘things.’ Our consumer culture is driven by the myth of secularism—the idea that there is nothing more than stuff, that you are just stuff, so grab all the stuff you can before you die. This is the ‘god’ of commodification, and it is inherently dehumanizing. Mammon also ignites an obsession with progress—progress at all and any cost. Value is measured by productivity; we become monstrously performance-driven, and our worth is calculated based on outcomes. All this results in us all wanting more for less. This is a world order where accumulation is the goal, economic viability is the wise arbiter, people are assets or products, what they can do is more important than who they are, and so human beings become human doings. Mammon is the ‘god’ behind the ‘Machine’ and the author of objectification, disavowing us of our humanity by exchanging human dignity for utilitarian value. Under Mammon’s tyrannical reign, we humans are progressively dehumanized. As God’s image-bearers, we are demeaned, His image is diminished, and we struggle to flourish.
Mammon is more than an ideology; it’s theological. It assumes a transcendent status and is more akin to religion. The ‘Machine’ is a ‘god’ who doesn’t just require mental assent to a political or cultural idea but insists on soulish devotion and fidelity, often demanding sacrifice from followers enticed into servitude and spellbound by its promise of progress, anticipating the next breakthrough.
In this next series of essays, I am going to attempt to explore our contemporary culture’s social, economic, and spiritual enslavement to the tyrannical rule of Mammon. I aim to uncover the methodology of the dehumanizing stealth ‘Machine’ and how it has systematically degraded our vision of what it means to be fully human. I also hope to show that we are not without hope! The story of God, which culminates in the birth, life, death, resurrection and intercession of the God-man Jesus, makes the claim that it’s possible to make an Exodus from the tyrannical rule and enslavement to the powers of Mammon. And so, I also hope that we’ll unearth some of the ways the Gospel liberates us from the treadmill of the Machine.
I must say, I remain ever grateful for the gift of Walter Brueggemann. If you can be discipled by reading, he is my Rabbi. I am also deeply appreciative of the insightful, timely and prophetic perspectives of Paul Kingsnorth. Both Walter and Paul have been a source of inspiration for my writing.
