A friend recently sent a link explaining that Amazon had launched a new show having to do with Satan. Without knowing the writers or plotlines, I can imagine it will try to be witty and sophisticated, sneering at one whom only serious Christians regard as a formidable enemy in this life. Like many tedious shows mocking faith and virtue over the last half century, this one will probably be lame and short-lived, praised more for its clever courage than its actual content, but the larger effect was to question my relationship to Amazon, and wonder if it was time to cut the cord.

Like a wide swath of Americans, I subscribe to Amazon Prime for its convenience. A few taps on a keyboard will bring me anything from the book whose favourable review I just read to groceries and last minute gifts. A little more time scrolling will help to distinguish the best deals in clothing and toiletries, and even the most obscure items can be found with a little sleuthing. The free shipping puts this service over the top, and it’s only occasionally (when I see the delivery man slipping through the snow to drop my lipstick) that I stop to wonder at what I’m doing with my subscription. This is just an example of market forces at work, right?

Market forces have made Amazon an eponymous juggernaut, which we must admit helped us through the Covid lockdowns. Leaving aside the constellation of events that allowed that to happen, we must admit that we’ve never much cared who was stitching our fast fashion or testing our cosmetics. Only when we face the slightest supply chain glitch do we stop to wonder who around the globe, exactly, has stepped to the plate to make sure we have the cutest little Halloween outfits, the perfect shampoo for that sensitive dog, or new towels to match our redecorated bathroom.

While I can insist that my purchases are not usually as frivolous as that (or as they used to be!) should I—at three score+ years—be buying anything at all? Shouldn’t I be sending things out the door rather than bringing them in? Haven’t I enough buried in my closets and bins to live on til the end without indulgent upgrades, which (truth be told) are often sops to listlessness or boredom?

The free videos attached to Prime (even Britbox) have diminished of late, until I’ve had to endure more commercials than we used to on actual television. (Those, at least, were sensibly placed and not thrust willy-nilly in mid-sentence!) Interestingly, having renewed access to old movies and vintage series has allowed me to recognise more clearly those early seeds of social upheaval that we either ignored or brushed away as harmless. In that regard, revisiting those nostalgic landmarks has often been more bitter than sweet—but I also realise that I’ve been subject to a bait-and switch operation, wherein those movies and series that once justified the purchase are now behind more paywalls than Scheherazade’s scarves.

All of this seems to be making alternate excuses for a quick decision that ought to be made simply on the merits of supporting a media outlet that mocks God and leads viewers into dangerous waters—and has been doing so gleefully since its inception. When we saw what Balenciaga was marketing, we were horrified, and not a little grateful that we weren’t tempted with that label on our incomes; but while I’m still shocked to see the occasional Balenciaga sweatshirt, what is Prime but my middle-class version of that indifference?

Certainly, we cannot account for how the profits of most companies are used, but why should I indulge in supporting a business model that works so visibly at cross purposes to what I hold dear? I have a grocery store around the corner, a mountain of fabric to sew any items I can’t live without, and an EBay app that will support entrepreneurs and recycle existing treasures that ought to have new homes. A heroic soul would pull the plug immediately, but I may just drift towards Lent (thankfully early this year!) and give this sacrifice to God. A weak creature, I know, but the shame of that weakness will strengthen the resolve and lead me in the right path.