#360 Modern Warship

Fashion rules the world. Trends control more of humanity than the supposedly top two motivators, reason and religion. For years, philosophers and theologians have duked it out for the title of supremacy, while all the while fashion has worn the mantle of the king, or queen, as the case may be. Think back to your earliest social memory. Chances are good it was about some aspect of fashion. The holey T-shirt you wore, whether or not Susie’s clothes were hand-me-downs, if Bobby’s mother wore army boots. Oh no, you scoff, us macho kids didn’t talk about no sissy clothes. Ah, but you probably talked about the latest fashion in trucks or horses or slingshots. Because fashion has always been about being interested in the current or next big thing. And institutions that wanted to keep alive found that to keep the new blood coming in, you had to be new-blooded yourself or at least appear so in a sufficiently non-dorky, not adult trying to be a kid, style. Kids can sniff out a hypocrite from 50 times farther than a snake can extend a forked tongue. It hasn’t been easy. Institutions, government and religious, hate changes. Every organization, in the course of time, develops certain habitual ways of doing things. The opposing and balancing quality to fashion obsession is habit. Habits in institutions take the form of bureaucracy. And bureaucracy in turn stifles innovation. But, by its very nature, also stifles panic, willy nilly-ness, and the lemming-like urge to follow the crowd off the cliff. So the Catholic Church, in its early years as a young IPO type organization, found that rapid adaptability while maintaining a core marketing strategy worked pretty well. One God, as opposed to the confusing houseful of Roman deities, made sense to the soon-to-be-converts looking to simplify their lives. As long as they didn’t have to give up too many of their pagan festivals. So the spring maypole fertility bunny and egg party became Easter. And the celebration became that much better when the ran-out-of-winter-supplies, mid-February starvation period was lent the almighty ordained aura of Lent. Likewise, Christmas settling in around the time of the winter solstice made gathering together with your family in warmth and good fellowship a religious as well as secular experience. Reformed Pagan Old Man Winter Santa Claus sealed the deal. So I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I drove by a church the other day and saw a sign. On it, underneath their name, was the slogan “Doing Church Differently.” That they had a branding slogan at all showed they were hip to marketing. Still, I was surprised to find out that going to church, attending worship, and celebrating mass was now “doing church.” Hey Buffy, what say we do church this Sunday. Great idea Biff, can we wear shorts? I don’t think today’s God would mind, I mean, it is hotter than hell out.
America, ya gotta love it.