Last Saturday, Tristan, Gareth, Charity and I were sitting on
the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons. As young children are want to do,
our boys were up very early, and Charity and I were doing our best in the lull
to fortify ourselves with coffee.
Well, as we were watching cartoons, a commercial started, and
Tristan started to sing the theme song for the commercial—but then stopped
himself. He looked at us and said that he really didn’t like commercials
because the songs would get stuck in his head and he didn’t like that, because
they wanted him to buy stuff he didn’t want.
Without realizing it, Tristan stumbled onto a pretty
important truth—namely that there are some very smart people in advertising
working to get us to consume. And in a culture that is already overwhelmed by
media and advertising, the methods for getting our attention have become quite
strategic.
In 2004, the PBS news show, Frontline, did a piece called “The Persuaders.” If you look online,
you can still watch the entire program, and it’s eye-opening…
The point of this piece was to talk about this very
interesting shift in advertising from a time when advertisers were trying to
prove the efficacy and usefulness of their product—to suddenly working to
create a culture, and a kind of spirituality around products. Advertising went
from talking about how a product was tangibly better at what it did—to talking
about what a product meant…
So, a car is no longer just a car, but it’s an expression of
a culture—it’s something elemental—and, of course, they claim all of this while
never actually showing the car. A random guy on a couch getting passersby to
start crying is supposed to get us to buy a certain kind of tissue. Apparently
impromptu emotional catharsis is somehow related to what I use to blow my nose.
All of this is done with the idea that advertisers could
forge a kind of spiritual bond with a cynical consumer base. Brands do this by
hiring consultants who sit around and try to “channel their inner brand.” So in
the end, a product would become a kind of totem for expressing particular
aspects of our lives.
At one point in the program we’re introduced to a man by the
name of Clotaire Rapaille, a man who was a respected psycho-therapist in the
1970s who left his practice to work with advertisers.
In this work, funded by a number of these advertising groups,
Rapaille did a long term study to figure out a consumer’s hidden desires. His belief
was that to know these hidden desires was the key to making a deep connection
with consumers in advertising. Of course, whatever those key components are,
they weren’t revealed in the program. All the same, it shows to what lengths
advertisers will go just to get us to buy.
The interesting thing is that it works… There was a similar
article that I read a while back that talked about how the cigarette brand
Lucky Strikes changed fashion and American culture at the same time. Apparently
during the Second World War, as more women were entering the workforce; more
women also began smoking. With this in mind, the advertising executives began
trying to figure out how to capitalize on this shift—how to get more women
smoking. At the time, Lucky Strikes sold in a green package. So, their solution
was make the color green the fashionable color of the season.
Well, back then the center of fashion was really only Paris,
France—there was no other place in the world where fashion trends were
established. That is, until the ad executives at Lucky Strike decided to make
New York City a center of fashion by holding a fashion show, and set the green
trend that would eventually get more of their products sold.
Honestly, when I hear this kind of stuff; I get kind of
frustrated. I don’t like to think or feel like I’ve been duped—because that’s
how it feels. I don’t like the idea that my choice of fashion, or music, or
even my politics could be the summation of some advertising think tank who had
“channeled their inner brand.”
But then when we consider the amount of media that we’re
exposed to: billboards, television and radio ads, fashionable clothes with
corporate names and logos—it’s a surprise that we’ve not experienced overload.
And for all of the constant barrage of advertising that we are hit with, there
are only more salvos of advertising waiting to catch our attention and draw us in…
So in the midst of all of this white noise, how can we even
begin to hear words that are spirit and are life? How are we supposed to
understand the promise of eternal life given in Christ when we’re promised the
same thing in products?
It might seem like an easy enough answer, because we’re
intelligent people who can see through the glamour of advertising. Like
Tristan, we know that advertisers are working hard to get us to buy stuff we
don’t want. I think we know this
(pointing to head), but I’m not sure if we know
this (pointing to heart).
When Jesus comes to the end of his teaching about being the
bread of life, inevitably he explains that eating his flesh and drinking his
blood is the way in which we are to receive this life that he promises. Like
us, these disciples who were listening knew that he wasn’t being literal—but we
have to remember that they had followed him to get more fish and bread. While
they didn’t confuse Jesus’ spiritual meaning in his teaching, they were however
disconcerted to find out that his mission was about bringing salvation—not free
miraculous food.
Their real issue then, was realizing that discipleship and
the promise of eternal life would require a drastic change of life. And if they
weren’t able to get past that, there was little hope that they would ever hear
the words of life and of spirit.
The sad thing is that our culture tries to seduce us into the
same trap. I mean, if I can buy a new car or a certain kind of tissue, couldn’t
I have a more whole life without having to take in Jesus? Without all of the
tough things that discipleship requires?
Sure, it seems like an easy choice, but it really isn’t. When
I consider the things in my own life—the choices of how I use my time; I have
to humbly admit that my selfish use of time often outweighs the selfless. I’m
guilty of coveting cool technology, and cell phones that are better than mine.
I admit to wishing I owned a car that had all of its wheel covers and doesn’t
rattle. Not that these are terrible things, mind you, but they serve to
distract me from attending to the words of life and spirit. They tempt me to
lose my focus on my responsibilities to my relationship with Jesus and with
others. And, like most of us, I confuse snake oil and placeboes for the true
bread of life.
But then there are readings like today’s that help to sort me
out. Unapologetically, Jesus asks these fair weather disciples “Did I offend
you?”(In my head Jesus sounds like Samuel L. Jackson when he says this). And of
course, those who couldn’t hear the words of life through the noise of their
own lives went away.
Jesus then turns to the twelve and asks, “Do you also want to
leave?” But with the sincerity and impetuousness that only Peter could muster,
he says what I think all of us hope to say: “Where else can we go? You have the
words of life…”
In our modern, busy lives we’re given every opportunity to
neglect our faith. And as we can see there are any number of companies and
advertisers who offer us excuses and alternatives to lives of discipleship in
Jesus Christ.
It’s up to us, then, to be attentive to our relationship with
Jesus in the midst of a world that does its best to grab our attention and sell
us counterfeit. For all of their promises, however, what we know in our hearts
is that in the end there is no other bread that nourishes the soul and gives
eternal life—and there are no other words which are spirit and life. To
understand this, I believe, is really
our ‘hidden desire,’ because to be free and loved and accepted is the cry of
all of humanity (perhaps even all of Creation). And where else can we go when
the words of the spirit that we long for, and the meaning of life we hope to
see are found in Jesus Christ, the true bread of life?
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