"Caution: Church Van," read the rear doors of the vehicle in front of me at the traffic light.
I pondered this instruction. Is there a special place in hell for someone who hits a van carrying church-goers? Should the driver's association with a church merit special courtesy I would not afford other people--say, people whose bumper stickers did not support my political candidate?
This pointless message reminded me of the strange phenomenon of God's billboards. When I first saw them, I figured they were confined to South Carolina, the state where you can't buy booze on Sunday. Oh no, I found they are in North Carolina, too, and Cleveland and Dallas. In fact, it's a national campaign. You've seen them: They are black with white text; an example is, "Let's meet at my house Sunday before the game. -God." All are signed by God but give no indication of a sponsor. Here are a few others: "Loved the wedding, invite me to the marriage. -God." "Don't make me come down there. -God." "We need to talk. -God." "Will the road you're on get you to my place? -God."
Here are a few of the more obnoxious: "Keep using my name in vain, I'll make rush hour longer. -God." "What part of 'thou shalt not' didn't you understand? -God." "You think it's hot here? -God." "Have you read my #1 best seller? There will be a test. -God." And my personal least favorite: "Big bang theory, you've got to be kidding. -God."
According to The Christian Science Monitor, the ads were created by The Smith Agency in Florida in a campaign funded by an anonymous person who wanted to "get people thinking about God." The "Messages from God" campaign was originally intended to be local and to last only a few months in 1999, but near its end, the Outdoor Advertising Association of America offered to launch it nationwide as a public service. The advertising space is now donated, either by the billboard owners or private individuals, at an estimated value of $13 million, tax-deductible. It is, according to OAAA, more popular than Smokey the Bear or the crash-test dummies.
God's message, it seems, has been translated into a form "relevan[t]" to the 1990s. What I take this to mean is that God supposedly is more accessible when we insert tired, slang-filled, everyday speech into His mouth. God is just a regular ol' guy like you and me.
The strongest argument I've ever heard from an atheist is that we have yet to create a god less shallow than ourselves. The answer, of course, is that we have yet to interpret a higher power in a manner that doesn't reveal our own smallness. God doesn't get more sophisticated; we do. At least, I thought we did.
I question the "success" of the campaign (the criteria for which were unspecified in the article). Other than creationists who already go to church and think the rest of us sinners need a lesson, who thinks these ads are clever? I can't help thinking this money could be better spent doing God's work--funding a soup kitchen or sending medical supplies to people in need (with no strings attached). Proselytizing within one's own religion isn't exactly productive.
I can overlook the rampant comma splices (which I assume are intended to resonate with a grammar-abusing public). I can smile at the utterly unconscious anthropomorphism. I can chuckle at the nearly literal example of preaching to the choir.
What bothers me is that these billboards are unsigned--and I don't believe that God actually dictated the copy to Charlie Robb, one of the campaign's creators. Whoever claims to speak for God should own up to it. These billboards are arrogance in a most undiluted form. They are imagination presented as quotation. They are interpretation stated as fact.
What would God say if He took out some advertising space? I don't know. You don't, either.
Another interpretation for the church-van sign occurred to me: Are church-van motorists white-knuckledly incompetent? The sign could be a warning that I would get creamed by a singularly bad driver if I didn't watch out.
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