There is a covered bridge in Georgia that extends over a scenic rushing stream. A well-worn trail leads its visitors to a succession of small cascading waterfalls over a series of massive rocks. Sitting atop one of these rocks, my husband turned to me and asked, “Do you ever think of the springs in France when you see a bottle of Evian for sale?”

My answer caught me more off guard than his question. No, I really hadn’t ever thought of the springs, or the production, or for that matter, the importing that goes into the twenty-some kinds of bottled water we see on our grocery store shelves. In fact, I don’t usually think about the origins of anything I consume.

Sociologists call this growing trend of perspective (or lack there of) commodification, the progression of thought whereby the commodities we consume are seen in abstraction from their origins. For instance, when most of us think of chocolate, we rarely see it as having a context beyond our consumption of it. The land where it came from, the conditions of its production, and the community or laborers who produce it are realities disassociated with the commodity. In a world dominated by consumption, commodification is becoming more and more of an unconscious worldview, and one which is shaping habits of interpretation across the board.

Author and cultural observer Vincent Miller writes of how such a manner of seeing and interpreting is also making us more comfortable with engaging religion as commodity, lifting certain portions of a religious tradition from its context and historical background for the sake of one’s individual use or interest.(1) Thus just as chocolate or bottled water is easily and unconsciously viewed as detached and even different from its origin and context, parts and pieces of religious traditions are increasingly being seen as goods from which we can pick and choose, commodities disassociated from the historical realities and contexts from which they arise. Such habits of interpretation might explain the current fascination with diverse and isolated spiritual practices; it could also explain the man on television who recently expressed his desire to design a tattoo portraying his version of the Crucifixion. Jesus, the cross, and the resurrection become commodities isolatable from first century Palestine, detachable from the context of the Old Testament, or optionally a part of the Christian story at all. When consuming religion, we prefer à la carte.

It is this ability to isolate and compartmentalize that also allows people to simultaneously affirm beliefs that would otherwise be contradictory. Miller cites an example from a Canadian survey that reports almost half of its participants asserting beliefs in both reincarnation and resurrection. Even a slight understanding of either concept would recognize them as incompatible, but in removing each from their traditions, the consumer mindset disorientedly and groundlessly insists on finding a way to embrace them both.

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