Why We Worship Stuff

In the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshiping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. — David Foster Wallace

I think every major pop culture mag has run a piece about historical inaccuracies in the hit Netflix show, The Crown. But honestly I don’t care. The show is not dealing in those kinds of facts. It’s an archeological approach to storytelling in the tradition of Michel Foucault, who said, “Archeology is about examining the discursive traces and orders left by the past in order to write a history of the present.”

Indeed, the present

There’s a scene in Season 2, Episode 4 that demonstrates the point of worship–– as functional and relevant today as it was back when it (may or may not have) happened.

Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip have returned to their quarters after a long night celebrating their 10th anniversary. Princess Margaret (the Queen’s little sister) has returned after a stimulating night with a new love interest, Anthony Armstrong-Jones, or ‘Tony’ as he prefers.

Cutting back and forth between the two bedrooms: The Princess is in a cocktail dress, slightly drunk, in complete ecstasy, having just been swept off her feet after years of emotional isolation. Down the hall, the Queen and Phillip are stone cold sober, being undressed by their respective servants before nightly prayers. Two competing narratives of royal life, perfectly juxtaposed under one palace roof.

Narrative 1:

A totemic family ordained by God to both rule and serve as an icon for a nation. A religion, a way of life and a philosophical framework developed over generations by the British Empire and cemented into the national character when it was at its peak. Globally respected, inextricably linked to pride in country, and worshiped unconditionally by the people of the United Kingdom and Commonwealth countries until the end of time.

Narrative 2:

A vivid, lurid princess standing at the summit of the modern age. An age defined by irreverence for the crown, media obsession with beauty, idolatry, and the slow degrading of the monarchy into little more than a family of celebrity landowners. Margaret enjoys the privileges and trappings of royalty but beyond that, does not subscribe. She has just broken completely from the old narrative in favor of the libertine values embodied by Tony. A brash, intrusive and emotional photographer.

Pick your poison

It’s a complex and strange world and there is no way for any individual to fully know all aspects of it. So in order to survive, we worship. This is not a choice, according to David Foster Wallace in his 2005 speech to the graduates at Kenyon College, which I quoted at the top. It’s done consciously or unconsciously, but always done.

What you chose to worship has a major effect on your life. It could be a sophisticated religion that attempts to answer all of life’s big questions, or the cold rationality of science. Love is a powerful one. Religion and science have seeded ground to money, power, beauty, and intellect in the last hundred years. Many would argue, to deleterious effect on society at large.

According to Wallace, worship grounds our actions, commitments, and our basic orientation. It’s the framework we use to interpret the often scattered and incoherent facts of life.

Putting your object of worship on display is optional, but not doing so doesn’t mean you don’t worship something.

You probably betray yours by the way you act, what you pay attention to, and what you spend time doing. Or in conversation. Deep questions about big subjects will quickly reveal the proverbial “last answer.” Which, for a religious person is often the word of God — the thing you can’t question. But people who worship science and rationality do it too, often providing “complexity” as their last answer. Or simply ending the conversation with the Big Bang.

[Spoiler alert]

I was so curious that I had to read some of the real history of Princess Margaret and her dalliance outside the palace walls. It feels odd to call a known historical event a “spoiler,” but if you’re watching The Crown and don’t know the history, I’ll try not to ruin it for you.

Turns out, the naked photo was taken much farther into Margaret’s relationship with Tony.

It was one of many photos that made news during their time together, running with captions like “the famously sybaritic Princess Margaret.”

The palace wanted Margaret to appear as an idealized royal abstraction not too different from the Queen. She not only refused that but defiantly embraced a much different archetype. One that looms large in the psyche of Western Civilization to this day: The sacrificial divine feminine.

Margaret’s particular brand of it — a royal outcast with one foot in the world of celebrity and one in the dusty corridors of institutional aristocratic power — is later emulated and taken to a whole new level by perhaps the most infamous princess of all time.

Worship has utility

When I’m moving through the world and getting all kinds of contradictory and confounding feedback, there are so many questions where the capitol “G” God or “complexity” answers come up short.

Royals, much like the demigods of ancient Greece make very seductive objects of worship. The fallibility and dynamism of a flesh and blood person can fill that void, if only temporarily.

With royals, there is never the proverbial “last answer” that blocks further inquiry. Always more questions.

None of us would survive long without having something to worship, according to Wallace. How well our deities help us navigate the world should be their measure. The best ones can help us develop the mental machinery to put things in context, empower us to make good decisions and thrive. The worst can lead us down paths so dark we may never find our way back.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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