Cura Personalis, Capitalism, and Chaos
How to see yourself (and everyone else) as a whole person.
A brief introduction for the handful of new folks around here (and full acknowledgement that I haven’t written anything of substance since September). I’m Ashley Brooks, writer, freelance editor, part-time bookkeeper, and Catholic mom. I’m halfway through an online master’s program in Christian Spirituality at Loyola Chicago with the goal of eventually doing ministry work through spiritual direction.
This space is where I process my thoughts about theology, who God is, and what it looks like to be a Christian in modern America. I also share sporadic book reviews and occasional thoughts on mental health and being a neurodiverse family. My writing ranges from “woo-woo poetic contemplative prayer” to “academic treatise on theology, spirituality, and culture.” It’s a big swing. Please take what works for you and leave what doesn’t.
Start here for more info about Ignatian spirituality and what “letting it go” is all about.
Something about Lent makes me think about the economy. (See this piece from last year, in which I gave up consumerism for my Lenten fast.) Specifically, how capitalism does and doesn’t align with a Christian worldview. Even more specifically, why does it feel so impossible to simply exist in the US and simultaneously live in a way that doesn’t exploit others and honors our innate human dignity?
The far-reaching effects of capitalism and wealth and greed and Mammon and poverty and productivity and rest and the dignity of all creation have been spinning around my brain in a tangled knot that I’m just now beginning to pick apart. (Mary Undoer of Knots, pray for us.)
As a non-linear thinker and an external processor, I do this work in large part by writing. This is me, examining my tangled web of ideas and inviting you along for the ride, tangential as it may be.
Capitalism
Capitalism on its own is a neutral thing, an economic system that allows for the ownership of private property and that typically involves some amount of market freedom through supply and demand.
In the United States as it exists in 2024, some people would say we’re living in a phase of “late capitalism.”1 Here’s what most people mean when they say “late capitalism”: they mean that the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer. The middle class is shrinking. It’s harder for an average family with average jobs to make ends meet than it was a generation ago.
Inequality feels rampant, and much of that inequality seems to exist by design.
We the People are targets of a near-constant barrage of marketing campaigns. We are being sold to in our free time, at work, every time we use the internet for literally anything.
There are very few places in our society where the marketplace does not reach. It’s at church where an acquaintance has recently joined an MLM. On a family camping trip, which we “must” prepare for by purchasing adequate gear from one of many expensive outdoor brands. When we sleep, as our smartwatches continuously harvest data about our lives and habits, so that someday, the right ad will reach us at the right time.
All ground is sacred ground—and all ground is fertile space for moneychangers to set up their tables, show off their wares, and try to make a sale.
In his papal encyclical Fratelli Tutti (Brothers All), Pope Francis writes of a throwaway culture that has permeated much of modern life around the world:
“This way of discarding others can take a variety of forms, such as an obsession with reducing labor costs with no concern for its grave consequences. . . . Some economic rules have proved effective for growth, but not for integral human development.”
Capitalism is everywhere. It is a hungry beast that requires constant feeding. And so, regardless of what you think about the phrase “late capitalism,” we can see that this economic system of ours has grown to the point of glutting itself. The market demands constant growth, and for that it needs two things:
More consumers, an endless stream of people willing to click “buy now.”
Productive workers, busy little bees who create the widgets and trinkets to be sold and who develop the algorithms and ads that do the selling. People who will eschew rest to continue the 24-hour feeding cycle the beast requires.
Capitalism as an economic system is neutral. But the actions of people who have wealth and power and who use that power to perpetuate injustice and inequality so they can remain at the top, and who reduce human beings to cogs in the productivity machine—their actions are not morally neutral.
Chaos (aka Humanity)
Capitalism thrives on regular productivity. It requires the predictability of machines, doing the same tasks and producing the same output at the same (or faster) rate each day, without exception.
The issue is, people are not regulated machines. We are chaotic human beings.
Chaos as I’m defining it here is not a bad thing. It’s simply the opposite of regularity, regimentation, and predictability—all things that are necessary if you are going to be a productive member of society, as defined by capitalism. In short, chaos is the wild, unpredictable force that makes us human.
Our current culture leaves little room for chaos. Sicks days, “off” days, accidents, disabilities, responsibilities like aging parents or children and the whirlwind of utter unpredictability that follows them everywhere—these things are part of the human experience. And capitalism wishes they weren’t.
Late capitalism values predictable, regular performance so highly that there is little room for the chaos of being human. Productivity is an idol to be worshipped; there is no room for rest, intuition, emotions, or art for the sake of beauty alone. That’s why we read productivity books and obsess over new planners (guilty as charged on both counts).
We have believed the lie that our chaotic humanity is a shameful thing.
Cura Personalis
Cura personalis is a Jesuit value that means “care for the whole person.” It sounds simple, but in practice, our culture is wildly unprepared to offer this type of care. This includes our churches, many of which have been swept into the machinery of growing capitalism at all costs.
Cura personalis doesn’t care much about productivity. It cares about our human dignity. It asks us to look deep within ourselves and others and to acknowledge that our value does not lie in what we can accomplish. Not just in a typical job, but in everything.
Tell me, have you ever felt guilty for resting when your house was less than sparkling clean? For not running as far or as fast as you wanted on a morning jog, or for not finishing a creative project by an arbitrary deadline? Have you been disappointed in yourself for not making “enough” home-cooked meals this month or reading “enough” books this year?
That is the idol of productivity speaking to you, lying even in your moments of self-care, rest, or relaxation with a hobby. You do not need to measure every moment of your existence by productivity metrics.
How would your life change if you looked at yourself and others and thought, “How can I care for myself as God cares for me? Who am I as a whole person, not just a body that gets things done?”
How different would your life be if you cared for yourself beyond what you can accomplish? If you valued others not for what they do but for who they are? What would it looked like if you actually believed with your whole heart that you are more than your accomplishments?
I realize this shouldn’t be a radical way of thinking for Christians. This probably isn’t the first time you’ve heard this diatribe. But the idol of capitalism is so ingrained in us that I don’t think we quite understand how deep these waters are that we’re swimming in.
What do we do with all this?
I am not an economist or a political scientist. I don’t know how to fix our reliance as a society on an economic system that has been pushed to its natural limits and still demands more. What I do know is this:
The church is not supposed to be part of this machine. It is not supposed to put optics, Sunday donations, and productivity ahead of the inherent dignity of every human person. It is not supposed to ask (or require) its members to hide their messiness in exchange for a place of belonging.
We are the church. This change starts with us and our attitudes toward work, rest, human dignity, and consumption.
Questions to Ponder This Lenten Season
In what ways do you serve the Kingdom of God? In what ways do you serve capitalism? Is there an imbalance there?
Think of your daily work (paid or unpaid). In what ways does your work align with your values? In what ways may your work promote a system of injustice or inequality?
What would you change about your work if you could?
Turn your attention to your local church or place of worship. In what ways does your church allow your chaotic humanity to flourish?
How can you offer others a space where they are valued for their personhood, not their productivity?
Further Reading
“Your Lifestyle Has Already Been Designed” by David Cain on the Raptitude blog
Rerum Novarum (Of New Things) by Pope Leo XIII (a papal encyclical defending capitalism against Marxism and pointing to the benefits of capitalism when it is used in ways that offer dignity, safe labor practices, and a living wage to workers)
Fratelli Tutti (Brothers All) by Pope Francis
The Life We’re Looking For by Andy Crouch
There’s some controversy over “late capitalism” and whether it’s a useful phrase or a meaningless buzzword. This article provides a brief rundown of the origins and history of the term “late capitalism” for those who are interested: www.sydney.edu.au/news-opinion/news/2022/12/20/unpacking-late-capitalism.html.