I’m often struck by the ways theology is mediated to us through our everyday encounters with consumer products. The theological is right there in the everyday, staring at us in the labels on our toothpaste tubes.
For example, there is the brand philosophy, a skin care company that makes heavy use of theological language. It has lotions called “hope in a jar,” “renewed hope in a jar,” and “when hope is not enough” (philosophy, perhaps ironically, doesn’t capitalize anything). There’s also the “ultimate miracle worker eye cream” and products called “purity made simple,” and “pure grace.”
Why does philosophy see theological language as rich ground for its advertising? Perhaps because theology and advertising share the same root: desire. “Thou hast formed us for thyself, and our hearts are restless till they find rest in thee” (Confessions, book 1). St. Augustine of Hippo made a bold pastoral move when he identified the human condition as one of wanting, of desiring. We human beings, in the ancient bishop’s eyes, are creatures defined by what we want. We are our longings, and absent God, in whom we’re meant to find rest, we are our restless hearts. We’re reduced to desire that will not be fulfilled.
