Posted by
Jennifer P on Thursday, August 16, 2007 6:46:38 PM
There's a man I know, whom I'll call "Herb" in order to protect the
guilty. The first thing I noticed about Herb when I met him was his
hair. In addition to being silver all over, he seemed to have an
excessive amount and it was combed rather, um ... weird. At
first I thought it was a toupee, when somebody enlightened me. It's not
a toupee, they said. It's a combover. Oh dear. Herb had fallen victim
to a brutal combover, the likes of which I have never seen. I walked in
one day with my camera in tow to take some happy snaps of an event we
were at, when he saw the camera and exclaimed, "You're taking pictures?
Oh no, I have to fix my hair!" He raced out to the car and a few
minutes later, I heard the unmistakable hiss of a hairspray can. I
should also point out that Herb is 52 years old.
Now, aside from
this particular quirk, Herb's a pretty nice guy. It's just that when
age, wisdom, and maturity came knocking at his door to escort him into
his middle-age years, Herb dug in his heels and had to be dragged by
the wrists kicking and screaming.
It's fairly well-established
that Western society idolizes youth and views aging as a regrettable
aspect of life's journey. Everybody wants to be young and vital
forever. The elderly are seen as a burden and the first appearance of a
grey hair or disappearance thereof has people reaching for the hair dye
and Rogaine.
I was reading a quote by historian Douglas Brinkley
on the suicide of Hunter S. Thompson about
how he supposed Thompson had a good 67 years and "didn't want to suffer
the indignities of old age".
When did growing old become
undignified? I suppose it's more dignified to shoot yourself while on
the phone with your spouse and with your son and grandchild in the next
room.
Unfortunately, I've witnessed this attitude creeping into
churches. A church of which I was previously a member had a thriving
combined youth/young adult group. Later it split (thankfully) into
separate groups for the youth and young adults, but while I was there,
I observed something Many of the adult leaders, including the youth
pastor, dressed about 15 years younger than their actual age. Now, I'm
a 30-something adult who's been blessed with 23-year old looks, but
with the position I'm in with my career, I can't dress like I'm 23
anymore. Technically, I could get away with it, but it's harder to
respect a supervisor that shows up to the squadron picnic in a
rubberband miniskirt and a t-shirt emblazoned with some slogan like,
"It's Better in a Bikini" or some other catch-phrase indicating the
female wearer is as loose as a DD-cup bra on Kate Moss.
It's
also hard to respect a 38-year old man wearing baggy-butt cargo shorts
with a chain wallet and who's still shopping for his wardrobe at
Hollister Co. and American Eagle Outfitters. I'm sure they thought they
were being "relevant" and getting down to the teens' level. Except
they're going about it all wrong. The youth in America's churches don't
need youth leaders and pastors who dress like they're 17 and getting
down to a teen's level doesn't mean seeing how many times you can work
the word "booger" into your sermon. Kids need adults to act like
adults, because ultimately a leader's (and parent's) job is to turn
kids into productive, intelligent, godly, adults.
Another thing
I noticed in church is not only the hyper-promotion of youth
ministries, but the neglect of other demographics, particularly the
elderly. What's being done for elderly widows and the infirm--people
who need the support of the church the most? Churches have become so
compartmentalized. There's a different ministry for many people, but it
seems the only time they come together is Sunday morning.
The
ironic thing about Brinkley's "indignities of old age" quote is that as
people grow older, the younger they try to look and act, the more
undignified they become. A wrinkled, 80-year old woman wearing a mumu
and sitting in a rocking chair has more dignity than a 50-year old
woman with a Sexy Grandma t-shirt or someone whose face looks like a
terrified raccoon from all the plastic surgury they've had.