Hiding Religion In Plain Sight

This not-so-seemingly religious artifact almost didn’t make it to this blog. Tagged onto the rail of the entrance to the 1 train on 96^th and Broadway, I barely noticed it at first, and certainly didn’t right away notice the significance it now holds for me. Most artifacts and religious relics command you to be reminded of religion, even if they are not in an inherently religious location. Running vertically is clearly written “TMPL,” even if the L is backward. Aurally, this word is reminiscent of temple. The M, written non-conventionally, looks more like an E; this letter has the ability to act as both letters, and, doing so, the tag becomes even more of the word “TEMPL.” This raises questions: Why the left off “E” at the end? Why the backwards L? Why such a sacred word manipulated to not look like itself, but still be clearly seen?

At this point, I would like to throw us into Dorothy Day’s religion, and then relate it back. Living on Statin Island, Day lived religiously by infusing her physical world with religious thought and action. Daily chores like checking the mail, working around the house, became a way to include God in her life. At this time in her life, she was exceptionally happy, because of the mere presence of God in her life. Her “Long Loneliness” seemed lost at this point, because she was happy and knew what would make her even happier.

This tool to include religion in everyday life worked well for Day, so why can’t this seemingly randomly placed text be working in the same way? You can see in the picture the telling green of the MTA it’s been placed against. In the background of this shot was a busy street full of people going about their lives. The paint under the text is chipping away, and taking part of the word with it. But maybe this still means something to someone out there. Its position outside a busy train stop makes it visible to anyone looking. So many people droningly use the MTA as a form of transportation. They see that green as a sign of crowded trains and early mornings. In the same situation, Day would have taken the opportunity to commute every day as a time to pray, maybe to play with her rosaries. For her, it would have truly been a temple, because, for her, anything could be. As long as she was being mindful of God’s presence in her life, she was worshiping in a temple of God, no matter the location. Every day, this train stop could be someone’s temple as they wait for the subway, or as they walk past the words to get home from work. And maybe it reminds them to be mindful of God in their lives.

In another way, it represents America’s changing religious experience and identity. A hundred years ago, when the subways were built, you might have seen graffiti on them, but probably not religious graffiti. This is because the people’s experience of religion is changing. Where there was once a “secularist truce that kept religion out of the public sphere,” this has now “been broken” (Houtman & Meyer P2). A religious “text” no longer has to be some grand analysis or quotation approved by a scholar. For my Grandmother, the only worshiping that happens is out of a Bible or in Mass on Saturday night. Since I’ve started this course, seeing graffiti on a Subway has left me ranting to my peers about whether they see something resembling the word “temple” as religious, or whether it can be spiritual. It’s okay that this possibly religious thing is so concise and plain; it can still be counted as religious even if it’s not a “religious text;” it being a religiously connotated word can make it a religious experience for someone. Likewise, its publicity does not detract from its religiousness. It matters no matter the circumstances surrounding it.