On Friday, I had a meeting near a college campus, and afterwards, wanted a good coffee and went across the street to the Student Union. It was great: a blast from the past, students passionate about everything, heated discussions, intense conversations about every topic imaginable. I could easily remember being in their shoes, and felt a wave of compassion toward the impermanence of their (my) passions. I noticed some grumpiness about the importance given to intellectual fads, but I mostly let that go. Mostly.
Then, on Sunday, over coffee in a church fellowship hall, I was eavesdropping again, intrigued by a familiar dynamic. Too, too familiar. Many of the little groups were passionate about Outreach Programs, Teens Nite, new books, new TV programs (the ones with Christian implications), new conferences. Then it hit me: I was listening to fads, again.
I was feeling the impermanent nature of fads, and the poignance of people hoping a "new thing" might give them something they needed. Everyone I overheard was passionate about his or her topic; they were intense (I know a bit about this place myself) and serious and hopeful and full of expectation.
Most of us were acting like teenagers! But one white‑haired guy was sipping his tea (herbal, probably), listening to someone's little kid tell him about her visit to the zoo and some friends she was going to visit. Two people connected: one seventy years old, the other seven, neither caught in a fad.
Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.
Oscar Wilde
Fads are fun; teenage girls’ new clothing can be a fascinating parade. . . unless you’re a parent: then, fads can almost drain the coffers dry.
Intellectual fads are interesting, too. I may be following one right here.