while it's not an original entry for this journal, i figure it offers some direction into where religion plays into my life. or doesn't. so, for the record:
Religion never fully ensnared my family. I come from two competing sides – Baptist on one side, Catholic on the other. And, somehow, my dad stumbled into the Methodist church. Church was something we did on Sundays out of blind allegiance. Until my mom became fed up with church gossip – the kind that favored personal vendettas than religious intent. My dad represented the family each week, and I chose to sleep during the services. We became more folks who believe in faith than devout followers of a Methodist tradition or teaching.
But religion is funny. And excuse the unfocused nature this will take – religion has never been a topic I can articulate in a logical flow. I find Ben’s implicit idea that you have “big-ticket” Sundays quite interesting. Because despite a fervent belief in connecting people to the words and beliefs of a chosen religious brand, the strategy revolves around filling seats. I almost liken it to higher education. The overall goal is educational – with higher education, the attempt is to provide tools for academic inquiry. In religion, the goal lies within articulating a way of living and believing the world. And while these two goals are similar in nature in understanding the way we go about processing information, they survive only when filling the seats. Jaded, no?
I’ve been battling this idea of religious brands for weeks now. The struggle of my childhood church to remain relevant and alive in people’s lives illuminates my dilemma. Growing up, Huguenot Methodist Church was the sole Methodist church in the Midlothian, VA district. Like a major network, it had its audience almost by default. The closest church was miles away. Huguenot preached a message its audience wanted to hear and to believe – until Mt. Pisgah opened in the mid 1990s. Both churches shared the same beliefs and the same texts, but framed the conversation quite differently. Mt. Pisgah spoke to a growing middle class discovering the roots of religion for the first time. Huguenot aimed more traditional, speaking to its established older crowd. Time killed Huguenot’s core base. Mt. Pisgah reached out.
For a while, I thought the strategy of religion was as simple as just spreading the message of that religious brand. But it rises far above that. It means making conscious decisions on who will listen to that message and, almost as important, who delivers that message. In some ways, I wonder if Mt. Pisgah’s strength came not only from reaching an untapped segment, but also from the messenger – a charismatic, young preacher not much older than the audience. At some point, whether in internal crises, poor strategy, or inconsistent messages, Huguenot failed to maintain its relevancy. And my dad stopped going. Others broke away. Now, the congregation is a mere shadow of its former size.
The battle, I think, came in what Ben mentioned – the constant struggle to define an identity. What did my church stand for? And what does it stand for now? When we talk about how everything matters in a branding strategy – the congregation of Huguenot usurped control of the brand through its gossip and bickering. Who was in control? Somewhere the mission of Huguenot fell apart – a struggle that remains unresolved today. Its members and its message remain insular and unfocused. Mt. Pisgah offered a challenge – a different frame to believe the same message. It was a challenge that energized an audience that continues to sustain and renew itself.
Is Mt. Pisgah some model for how things should be done? I don’t know. Sometimes things have a time and a place where all the components align perfectly. But I think part of thinking strategically is finding these tenets to create connections with people who are seeking them (or give them reasons to seek them). Religion, I believe, offers ways to rationalize and explain the challenges life throws. Which brings us back to those words of challenge and inspire. I think, in theory, that’s what thinkers, planners, creators, and destroyers do. They challenge and inspire new ways of thinking and constructing belief. But I would also argue that they act as catalysts. Fundamentally, religion sparks a desire to believe that jumps above just challenge and inspiration. And in preparing to create work that connects with people, being catalysts to their lives seems to be an end result I want to accomplish.
On a side note, though I’m not a fan of religious debate, I found the idea of this discussion quite interesting. I spent a lot of time at Syracuse University convincing my colleagues in Student Affairs that we’re in the business of connecting with students in the same ways advertisers do. We’re branding our offices by everything we do. We send messages, we have targets, and we want measurable goals. We’re buying and selling students. And we have to reach them when they’re most engaged. But this conversation challenged and inspired my thoughts on wrapping strategy in religion. And this notion of religious brands was something that, until now, I hadn’t quite considered.
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