The television series finale of Mad Men aired on May 17, and I’m ambivalent about it. In one sense, Don Draper (not his real name) and company did the 1960’s proud, showing how the relationships we hold most dear sometimes bear the strain of social upheaval and how sometimes they do not. I can only applaud the show’s writing and casting, but when we’re asked to sympathize with the double-minded lives of certain advertising executives, my hands grow numb (maybe it’s too much cholesterol in the diet) and I stop clapping.
Yes, it’s true on both the metaphorical and the literal levels, the very water in which we swim has been littered with branding boxes and leaflets telling us to buy more. More is better. And better is always more. The employees of the fictitious Sterling Cooper agency know only too well: happiness is found in the ownership of a new Jaguar, or in the purchase of a smoother peanut butter, or in prettiest model or the most handsome face we can find to sell our product. In contrast, the Rolling Stones speaks the truth when Mick Jagger struts to the lyrics, “I can’t get no satisfaction…”
That is to say, we don’t need a college degree to see through the vacuous promise that wants to sell us the last garden hose we’ll ever need for $19.99 — and if we act now and call the 800 number on the screen — someone will throw in a Ginsu knife for free! It’s only too obvious. We won’t be completely satisfied, but what else are we going to do? Not cut our flank steak? Not barbecue on that amazing stainless steel grill? Not watch television? Not listen to the radio (even NPR)? Not go online and experience that barrage of pop-ups and their surreptitious cookies? Is there a fire-wall or a barricade to keep out all the solicitors and their unwanted solicitations? Sadly, No.
And yet, happily, no. Hopefully, no. The weird dynamic of following Jesus means that we cannot keep to ourselves, which, in turn means that we cannot avoid the commercialized small-talk which may ultimately arrive at the big-talk. And by big-talk I mean those deep, spiritual questions of meaning and purpose. To get to them (with others) the men, women and children who comprise the church must enter the marketplace of Don Draper. This is, of course, the world of Walmart as well as retirement savings — and it’s also the world of Esau and Jacob. Do you remember them from Genesis 25–27?
To say that Jacob was a conniver and a manipulator is putting it mildly. Over and over again, he gains advantage and conspires to profit— and you might be out there, saying, “So what? More power to Jacob! He’s a self-made man!” And if that is what you’re muttering to yourself between syllables, make sure you read all the way through … until Jacob’s youngest son, Joseph, is “sold” into slavery (Genesis 37:27). The point is a wise caution.
Living in the world — with its spiel about the good life — may be unavoidable. But the value of some things is beyond the principles of supply and demand, and among those values, I contend, is the unsurpassable and unfathomable worth of God in the person of Jesus Christ. He is the Pearl of Great Price. He is the Treasure Hidden in a Field. Moreover, amid all the gimmicks we might imagine for getting people to come to church, Jesus will not be used to get us something else, like happiness. Of course, we can try to advertise and to promote our congregation as the friendliest or as the one with the best theology or the best music and so forth… but in our zeal to promote the Christian faith we’ve reduced it to a set of pots and pans.
And so, what’s the answer? I don’t know exactly, but it has to do with being there when people are finally exasperated with the buying and selling. It has to do with timing, and the integrity of those who no longer want a bargain or a blue light special. They want the truth. They want the truth yesterday, today and tomorrow. And they want grace — grace that won’t disappoint—and they don’t want it cheaply.
