1. Social media are the fidget spinners of the soul.
2. Each social media platform is a drug we self-prescribe and consume in order to regulate our emotional life, and we are constantly experimenting with the cocktail.
3. Law of Digital Relativity: Perception of space and time is relative to the digital density of the observer’s experience.
4. Affect overload is a more serious problem than information overload. The product of both is moral apathy and mental exhaustion.
5. While text and image flourish online, the psycho-dynamics of digital culture are most akin to those of oral cultures (per Walter Ong).
6. Just as the consumer economy was boundless in its power to commodify, so the attention economy is boundless in its power to render reality standing reserve for the project of identity construction/performance. The two processes, of course, are not unrelated.
7. In the attention economy, strategic silence is power. But, because of the above, it is also a deeply demanding practice of self-denial.
8. Virtue is self-forgetting. The structures of social media make it impossible to forget yourself.
The idea that God’s causality could interfere with my freedom can only arise from an idolatrous notion of God as a very large and powerful creature—a part of the world. We see an ascending scale of powerful causes. The more powerful the cause, the more difference it makes. And we are inclined to locate God at the top of the scale, and to imagine that he makes the most difference of all. But God does not make the most difference. He makes, if you like, all the difference—which is the same as making no difference at all. So far as the kind of world we have is concerned, the atheist and the theist will expect to see exactly the same features. The only difference is that if the atheist were right the question would not arise—indeed, the atheist would not arise.
—Herbert McCabe (Faith Within Reason, 76)
I talked about this a bit in this post, but McCabe says it better. This point comes up in preaching and popular theology all the time, but its most egregious iteration is in worship music. I would be very happy to never again have to sing that God is better and bigger and stronger. I understand the sentiment, of course, but it begins to sound like a Kanye West song.
John Wilson is at it again! Editing, that is. His new magazine, Education and Culture, is up and running. Among the moving parts of his new endeavor are names familiar to readers of his previous, much beloved publication, Books & Culture. One is my former professor Alan Jacobs. Here’s a snippet of his review of The Restless Clock:
I don’t often listen to podcasts but this one with Samin Nosrat, author of the recently released ‘uncookbook’ “Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat,” is worth a listen. Though it focuses on her book and unconventional approach to cooking (like jazz; lots of improvisation), there’s plenty to enjoy in the periphery, including how she landed a job at Chez Panisse, why she needs both cooking and writing to stay sane, and teaching Michael Pollan to cook.
There are few books I can confidently say have changed me. Gilead is one of them. Near the end of the novel John Ames, a pastor and the protaganist, writes these words: “Wherever you turn your eyes the world can shine like transfiguration. You don’t have to bring a thing to it except a little willingness to see.” I’ve often imagined the Christian life as a candle illumining a small patch of the world’s darkness. This image has its merits and, of course, biblical precedent. Gilead showed me the world as John Ames saw it, a world suffused with God’s light. It taught me that whatever the world’s shadows—and reading Gilead most recently I found quite a few I’d missed the first time—God’s light shines everywhere. To look at the world as if this were so, to expect light, is to see truly.
Rowan Williams was once asked if there was any contemporary author that matched C.S. Lewis in rendering what faith feels like. He suggested Marilynne Robinson. This reader, for one, agrees. Gilead and its sister novels are books I look forward to re-reading many times.