When I was a freshman in high school, it was very important to be known as someone who liked Marvel Comics and disliked DC comics. If you were especially cool then you would be buying First or Eclipse Comics, and if you were a little older you would have some Rip Off Press. It wasn't so much that I could articulate a difference between any of these comics, but it was very important to be vocal as to which ones were cool and which ones were dumb.

That's the feeling I got reading Tear Down the Cross by John Gorenfeld. Gorenfeld reports people being very upset about some Christians being in favor of crosses at their church while other Christians are in favor of taking down crosses. Both Presidents Bush have voiced their support for leaving / removing crosses, and the answer might surprise you. The main force behind removing the crosses may also be of note, particularly with their connection to the White House. But what comes to mind most is the foolishness of getting upset about symbols.

A symbol, by definition, is standing in for something else. It is the difference between a map and a place, between a word and a thing. Whatever happens to the symbol does not, magically, happen to the thing. If that kind of magic worked, wouldn't it make sense that humanity would use it (for good or ill)? If music can cause people to do things, why aren't we all in love from the love songs on the radio? If pornography can cause people to do things, why aren't we all having sex (or not having sex)? A symbol doesn't make anyone do anything; at most, it can make a person feel better about doing something they were already inclined to do. In this case, the symbol in question represents not a thing or a place or a person but a ghost story not based in reality. And a ghost story that says if you do as you're told by people who are doing as they have been told by an invisible monster that lives in the sky, then you can do anything you want and then click your heels three times (sorry, I mean 'pray for forgiveness') and it's like it never happened. It's just like how I thought about comic books when I was around thirteen years old. Except I grew out of it, and I never tried to legislate my preferred symbols into the law of the land or flew airplanes into buildings over it. I still like comics, but I know now that a good comic is where you find it and brand allegiance is a game only the owners of the brands can win.