“…There is inculcated in us such a fear of being out of everything – out of touch, left behind.
This fear is a form of tyranny…”
…The conviction is that it is precisely in these (collective) preoccupations that the Holy Spirit is at work.
To be “preoccupied with the current preoccupations” is then the best — if not the only — way to be open to the Spirit.
Hence, one must know what everybody is saying, read what everybody is reading, keep up with everything…
…or be left behind by the Holy Spirit.
Is this a perversion of the idea of the church – a distortion of perspective due to the Church’s situation in the world of mass communications?
I wonder if this anxiety to keep up is not, in fact, an obstacle to the Holy Spirit?
~(adapted from a journal entry by Thomas Merton – February 24, 1966)
A few months ago, I read this in one of Merton’s journals, and I was astonished that a man, practically living in solitude in the 60s, could have such perspective on a culture of mass communication. We think this era is unique, but it’s not. It’s merely redefined using new forms of communication.
I read a post on Tom’s blog about how he was scaling back in some of his online intake. His post reminded me of what Merton said, and I can’t help but wonder the same thing both pieces allude to…
Do we stay plugged in because we’re afraid we may miss something (spiritual or relational)?
Do we feel like there is more to miss simply because there is more being communicated?
Are what we view as the things that connect us to information inhibiting our capacity to be aware of the not-so-obvious things in our midst?
I remember unplugging during Lent last year. A few of my other friends did the same, and we shared a similar story:
When we were offline, the things happening around us were so much louder, so much more clear, and we were so much more present in them that it was like God screaming at us – through relationships, through nature, through solitude, through the seemingly mundane…
What changed?
Our input level?
Or God’s output level?
I would tend to think our input level. We quiet down, and we hear what’s already present.
What do you think? Have you ever wrestled with the fear “unplugging” brings? Have you experienced the radical change in God’s volume when you do unplug?
