Love and Goats

I have always had a disdain for the materialistic nature of our society. What you own seems to be more important that who you are, and I find that mentality nauseating. Give me the creative soul with the quick wit and an affinity for English literature, or the well-read, grease-covered mechanic who finds beauty in old Detroit steel and I will delight in their conversation. The size of a person’s bank account does not impress me.

Spare me the musings of the trust-fund elitists or the pseudo-intellectuals who crave the sound of their own voice, convinced that their costly education makes them better than every one else. Save me from Prada-wearing religious adherents who threaten with words of hate and damnation while spending their time judging those who fail to live up to their twisted idea of God.

There is a pity that creeps into my heart for those who are trapped within the prison of mindless consumerism. I am sad for them, for their wasted attempts to fill the void in their lives by obtaining more stuff rather than seeking solace in the one thing that truly fulfills: Love.

One of the ways I rebel against this culture of consumer is by fighting against the compulsory gifts. Many years ago I decided to fight against the guilt of obligatory presents. Somehow the giving of unneeded items became the universal sign of caring for another person, and that goes against everything that I believe. I refused to purchase the odd kitchen gadget or crystal bowl in order to fulfill some antiquated rule of etiquette.

I do not have to buy you an electric spatula to show you that I care. My love for you is not quantifiable, nor does my affection carry a price tag.

Instead of giving things, I found a way to make a difference in the world by giving hope. When a special occasion called for a present, I would donate the cost of a gift to charity. Some times I would buy teddy bears for children with cancer, or purchase a goat for a poor family in Ghana. A few dollars might buy a pretty paper weight in Michigan, or it can help a single mom in Belize buy a cow and help feed her family. You’d be amazed what a single chicken can do for a starving orphan in Haiti.

No, I am not campaigning for sainthood, I am simply taking a stand for what I believe. To do otherwise makes me feel like a giant hypocrite..and hypocrisy makes me very, very sad.

I am dedicated to the idea of equality of all people and to social justice, not because I’m an exceptionally nice person, but because that’s what my faith has influenced me to do. Because I believe it is the right thing to do. Having seen how dehumanizing poverty is, it is impossible to do nothing as I’m surrounded by the comforts of my middle-American life.

How can I believe in the universal worth of human life and write about the need for love, yet do nothing to help feed a child? How can I claim to be a follower of Christ and not use my financial blessings to show the less fortunate that they matter...even if they will never know who I am?

Mohandas Ghandi once stated that, “There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.” It seems like such a simple thing to feed another person, but this simple act sings out in an anthem of a powerful love, and it is a song that brings contentment to my heart. A contentment that I wish everyone could experience for themselves.

Am I writing this to guilt you into donating to a charity? Not at all. I am writing this to explain why someone is getting a farm animal on your birthday. I am writing to let you know why I cringe when asked what I want for Christmas. I am writing this with the hope that if you, like me, are tired of the endless holidays dedicated to the pursuit of stuff, you will consider becoming a rebel for the good of someone you may never meet.