This past weekend, I went to the Music Hall of Williamsburg in Brooklyn to see They Might Be Giants, a rock band that was popular in the 80s, with a couple of friends. The basement of the venue is a bar and lounge, and upon venturing downstairs, I discovered this one focal wall covered in a print of white doves. This immediately stood out to me as a traditionally religious symbol in an uncharacteristic setting.

White doves have been connected to religion throughout history: the Greeks associated doves with love and Aphrodite, it symbolizes peaceful death in pagan religions, and symbolizes peace, love, the soul, and, most specifically, the holy spirit in all the major monotheistic religions (Judaism, Islam, and especially Christianity). I firstly considered the irony of a symbol of peace being so central in the décor of a concert venue constantly filled with loud music, but then I thought more deeply about why the doves were chosen for this space. There was no clear answer to my question; there were no other images of doves or birds or any other significantly meaningful symbols. Why did the designers of the space make this choice?

I researched the music hall and The Bowery Presents (the larger organization in charge of the hall) and anything else I could think of to find a religious history (like the one belonging to the YMCA or Chick-fil-a, etc). However, I came up empty-handed. The lack of answers in this situation is an example of the use of religious symbols/objects for things that have no religious connection at all, a trend especially common in America and with younger people. The number of people raised in a religion or baptized in a religion but who are no longer practicing is continually rising, and though over 80 percent of Americans identify themselves as religious, many are not active members. These two trends exist together and highlight the secular treatment of religion in America. Religion becomes less of a daily practice and way of life, and becomes more a word that one can use to categorize himself. So also do the symbolic or material manifestations of religion become aesthetic tools, like upside-down cross tattoos, rosary-inspired necklaces, and dove-patterned paint jobs.

One might explain this pattern as a daily example of the jug theory of religion as we have examined through Celia in The Damnation of Theron Ware and other texts: picking and choosing individual elements of religions to fit one’s own customized faith. However, I question whether it can still be called that if the symbols, objects, and practices are not being observed as religious and their initial meaning is not being honored or acknowledged. A spiritual person including audio recitations of the Quran in their practice of religious observance because of their appreciation for the concept of hearing God’s beauty, wisdom, and will in the words is very different from using audio of the Quran as mood music in a coffeehouse. That also implies the larger, and possibly even more important, question of if it is disrespectful to take something that is meaningful to an entire population of believers and make it meaningless or superficial. Is it wrong? Should such actions be prevented? If so, how can a nation that so adamantly names itself as secular and so tightly clings to freedom of religion (with such a vivid religious history) create ways to prevent or combat these practices?