Frugality as Secular Religion?

To be frugal is a virtue, for sure. Being frugal is something done over and over again—the technical definition for “religious.” Faith is placed in how far one can stretch the almighty dollar to make ends meet.

The only thing we’re missing here is a special building for weekly meetings, a special book for reference to the lifestyle, and a “head of state”—oh but wait! We have supermarkets and grocery stores, our price books, and Gary Foreman of the Dollar Stretcher. We also have our own Dacyczyn Code instead of a DaVinci Code.

Strange how things can seem so similar when you turn them on their heads.

Instead of contributing to a collection plate, we use coupons at the register. Holy water is tap water in a refilled sports drink bottle. Sacred frocks are those special finds at the yard sales and thrift stores that looked good, were in excellent condition, and were worth the price. Our Latin is in English and involves a lot of measurement breakdowns, unit pricing, and knowing the best cuts of meat for the money.

Instead of (or as well as) praying at the dinner table, we also “pray” at the stove and sink—cooking from scratch and washing dishes by hand (if feasible). We “confess” in our pantries instead of a special booth—bulk macaroni and oatmeal tend to dish out easier punishment than a real confessor.

Frugality, like ordinary religion, also tends to make us feel more superior to others. The wailing cry of those who can’t live below their means is the fuel that keeps us going, lest we fall and join them. Heaven forbid we should fall to the depths of reliance on public assistance—that would be the secular equivalent of going to hell!

Never mind asking what Jesus would do—the question we ask ourselves is, “What else can I do instead?” Frugality is part of a larger picture in Virtue Land, and that is the picture of self-reliance. Like regular religion, it eases the burden (mental instead of spiritual)—who wants to be worried all the time, especially about money?

As you re-trace sandaled steps carrying your cross, remember this image: we are with you, whether truly religious or not. Some of us shed our crosses already, and are constantly in “cross defense” mode (cross = debt). All in all, we both live lives of relief and ease with ourselves and our bounty.

There is one difference I cannot seem to work out: special days for special activities, such as Palm Sunday, Easter, Christmas, and other such “holy” days. We don’t need special days for being frugal—we do it 24/7. The closest I can come is Sundays and Wednesdays for loss-leader sales. I’ll leave you the reader to figure that one out.