The Mall is my Church
Today is “Buy Nothing Day”, a day of international protest against worldwide consumerism. It’s held every year after the American Thanksgiving and concurrent with “Black Friday”, the day dedicated to mass shopping for bargains.
So, today, I went to the mall. Not to shop. Not to protest (unless my not buying anything qualifies as a kind of protest).
No, I went to the mall to experience communion, for the mall is my Church.
For me, the mall is a kind of temple or church. More accurately, of course, it’s the latest version of the traditional marketplace where people come to peruse and shop for goods from all over the world, eat and drink, exchange money, and meet friends for a good old chin wag.
To the cynical (and I count the organizers of “Buy Nothing Day” among them) the mall represents greedy consumerism. They abhor the gaudy decorations and advertising that seeks to part people from their money in exchange for things they don’t really need. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a fan of rampant capitalism or consumerism. It’s responsible for much of what’s wrong in our world. Yet accepting that, I still find something spiritual about the mall.
I didn’t always see malls in this light. I was once one of the cynics who avoided such places. But a couple of winters ago, I discovered the “mall walkers”. These are people who go to the mall to walk. You can easily put in two or three kilometres walking around the perimeter of the mall. Seniors make up the bulk of the mall walker contingent. Some walk with friends and others choose to walk alone. They are joined by middle-aged men and women and even a few single mothers and single dads pushing strollers. They’re all there to exercise. Some count steps, others walk leisurely gazing at shop windows or chatting with their companions.
My mall-walking experience began to reframe the way I viewed the mall. It has become a meeting place and a kind of indoor walking track. In the climate-controlled environment of the mall, I can escape the wintery blasts and sub-zero temps outside. After my walk, I can reward myself with a choice of cafés and a breakfast treat.
I also discovered that the mall is home to many of the city’s lonely, socially isolated, and even homeless citizens. They come to the mall to feel part of a community. In the food court, people gather to talk — even to strangers like me. A mall is a meeting place as well as a marketplace. In many ways, the mall is simply a 21st-century version of the ancient temples and marketplaces that existed in the past. We even have our money-changers here under the title “Currency Exchange” as well as various banks.
Like the old temples and marketplaces, people come here for the same reasons they have over the centuries — to peruse the produce from around the world, to purchase gifts and other necessary items, to meet friends, to eat and drink and have conversations, to feel part of something bigger than their solitary selves. Isn’t that the purpose of communion? Here I see families shopping together, children smiling because their father or mother or grandparent is spending time with them. I see old friends sitting in the café reminiscing about old times. I pass three security guards laughing and planning their holiday party. A clothing store employee comes into the mall carrying a massive pizza box — lunch for her colleagues. People around her point and smile. Mobile phone clerks patiently explain the latest phone and plan to their customers. Looking around me, I see so many small examples of kindness and heart-warming exchanges between people. This is real communion.
Although I’m not a believer, I still enjoy partaking in Communion from time to time. It’s a way of feeling connected to something bigger than oneself. Some call that God or the Universe or Nature or the Divine or the Great Gazoo. Whatever you call it, Communion links you to a metastory — a narrative that encompasses your own story. In the mall, I am part of the story of humanity that expresses itself through connection with others, through expressing friendship and love in conversation and — yes, even gift buying from crass merchants. But what’s wrong with that? Collectively, it keeps the economy ticking over . . . at least until we can replace our capitalist/consumerist society with something better.
I come to the mall, not necessarily to buy anything, just to commune with others, and to be part of humanity. For me, the mall is a sacred space, a democratic church where you’re free to believe (and purchase) whatever you choose without preachers or priests telling me how to behave or what to believe.
The mall is my church where I can exercise my rights as well as my body. So whether you buy anything or not today, if you find yourself in the mall, take a moment and look around you. Look deeply and compassionately at the people around you. Reframe what you see, if necessary, and you just might see a different world.
And you’ll be getting some exercise at the same time. You can’t knock that.
Happy Holidays!
Michael Williams is a writer, storyteller, and an end-of-life planning facilitator and trainer with a passion for life and love. He currently lives in Hamilton, Ontario and can be contacted at iamthestoryteller@gmail.com or go to www.michaelwilliamsstoryteller.com.
