It’s not that I’m a brilliant but untapped marketing genius. I’m like most English majors who have watched too many episodes of “Chips” and the “A-Team,” which also means a ton of commercials. I can dig my analytical teeth into a short story by Joseph Conrad or a Snickers bar jingle with equal intellectual chomp. And while I try to use my powers for good, there’s more jingles than short stories populating my landscape, even without a television in my house.
We live in a branded world.
We live in a world that would turn our identities into brands.
So, I’m probably not the only person with prescience about marketing trends.
Though maybe I was the only sixth grader to write to Kix and tell them to put games and other information on the back of their cereal boxes, because I found the cereal description there boring.
And then a few years later, boom – every cereal box back was a carnival.
And I was probably alone at 14 when I wrote to my favorite tampon company, OB, suggesting that instead of packaging tampon sizes in different boxes that they put at least three levels of absorbency in one box – as usually a woman needs more than one kind during her period.
And a few years later – they followed my suggestion.
I, of course, learned that it was pointless to give these corporations my good ideas. All I ever got in response was a lousy coupon.
So anyway, a year or so ago I remember remarking to someone that the names of churches bored me, and why couldn’t they take a cue from everything else and freshen up their brands – get a contemporary logo, find a name more imaginative and catchy than “1st Methodist Church of DingDong Street” or “Church of the Savior, Part 1,” or whatever.
So, yes, the common consciousness heard my idea and now I’m seeing these newly branded churches popping up all over Charlottesville, with names like “portico,” “maple grove,” “evergreen,” and a ministry called “angelfood.” All spelled lower-case with hip graphics and no mention of denomination or saint or number (I can imagine there might be a “portico, v. 1.2”).
I was pleased with the cereal box evolution, and the tampon box packaging was useful.
The church branding? I HATE IT.
Don’t get me wrong – it’s creative, it’s contemporary, it’s savvy – just as I had imagined it should be.
But it’s also distressingly unholy.
I don’t mind if the brand of a college or a car company or a snack food or even a social justice organization promotes itself with an image, a logo, a name, a catch phrase, and a color scheme that show an updated sensibility.
But a church? I want some sacred space to exist. Unbranded sacred space.
My library recently underwent a similar overhaul – moving from the staid burgundy coloring to a more lively orange and green look – well, I welcome it. Sort of. But I’m also happy that the library’s building remains stony and old, the librarians remain crusty, bored, and cranky, the place smells musty, and the homeless people are reading “Newsweek.” I don’t want it to become hip. I want it to stay old. And homey. Familiar, and old-school.
I don’t want the parks to get cool names. I don’t want museums to get too modern. I want some places to not have brands at all – just be “park,” “library,” “swimming pool,” “church.” That is, I want there to be communal spaces, public places, where we can gather without being sold any idea, without being convinced of an emotion, swayed by a saying, informed with a theme.I don’t want to go to a concert at the “Snag-a-Job Pavilion.” That is just grotesque.
We need space to mentally breathe.
And honestly, there’s something a bit dishonest about these swanky little churches with their eco-friendly brands. They’re all, as far as I can tell, as traditionally Christian as “1st pentecostal” and “Church of the Holy Redeemer.” They may have a cool brochure, but when you walk inside, you’re going to get the same Kool-aid mix, the same interpretation of the Bible, the same hand-raising and fervent swooning and tongues-speaking. There might be a guitar or a band instead of an organ or old piano, but the Bible put to a beat is still the Bible.
Altria sells cigarettes even with a different logo and a new name (not Phillip-Morris).
And you don’t need to have been an English major to see that. We’re all a little more savvy about marketing these days. A good brand is one that is honest, true to its content. A brand that’s trying to pull a hip new wool-cotton blend over our eyes? It’s worse than the outdated brand.
“Maple Grove.” Please! What is this, Church of the Natural Syrup? Church of the Suburban Development? Come back, 1st Pentecostal! I’m sorry I complained…!!!
into the park 