Call it worthless wasted time or what-have-you, but I watch the Sunday
roundtable discussions of Sunday Morning with Chris Wallace, Meet the Press,
Face the Nation, etc.. Then, during the week, I habitually tune into the Glen
Beck show, Russ Limbaugh, and the local PBS pontificates. Sometimes what is said will bring a
snyaptosome (new word for me) response but most time not.
More than likely on one or more of these weekly programs something will
be said about the influence of media and technology, usually as an excuse for
or garner support for a certain point of view.
So, I wonder as some of these panelist or hosts have posed; asked: "Is
Google really making me stupid?" "Is Twitter bad for my soul?"
"Is Facebook changing the way I relate?" In fact, there seems a
recent upsurge in articles and books, of one I finished a few months ago;
entitled The
Digital Invasion, questioning my faltering mind, morals, and community
(ironically reaching me through the very mediums that are blamed for it).
Some researchers note the shifting of thought patterns, attention spans that
are beginning to prefer 140 characters or less, information gluttony, news
addiction, and so on.
In fact, there is good reason, I think, to step away from the torrent surges of information and hyper-networking to think meaningfully about how it all might be changing me--for good and for ill. For with every new improvement and invention irrefutably comes gain and loss. And just as quickly as I can build a case against the gods of media-and-technology, I can also double check my footnotes on Google, if I were a “tweeter,” find dozens of perspectives on Twitter, and watch an interview with the author of one of the headlines mentioned above--all of which came from articles I read online in the first place. This sounds hypercritical to me; but I have found clearly advantages to having immediate access to such an incredibly rich store of information, inasmuch as this hyper-access to people, news, and facts assuredly has far-reaching effects on cognition, as well as the way weI see, or don't see, the world.
Speaking decades before the debates over Twitter or the wonders of Google, Malcolm Muggeridge seemed to foresee the possibilities of too much information. "Accumulating knowledge is a form of avarice and lends itself to another version of the Midas story," he wrote. "Man is so avid for knowledge that everything he touches turns to facts; his faith becomes theology, his love becomes lechery, his wisdom becomes science. Pursuing meaning, he ignores truth." In other words, I think Muggeridge saw that it was possible to see so many news clips that I am no longer seeing, hearing so many sound-bites that I am no longer hearing, seek so many "exclusives" that I am no longer understanding.
Speaking centuries before Muggeridge, the prophet Isaiah and the rabbi Jesus described their audiences quite similarly. "This is why I speak to them in parables," said Jesus, "because 'they look but do not see and hear but do not listen or understand'" Matthew 13:13, Isaiah 6:9-10. I’m wondering; am I living in a time that is complicated by towering opportunities of information and knowledge; news clips, sound bites, blogs, and editorials, all piled so high and wide that is becoming more and more that I am unable to see around my fortresses of facts. But perhaps my human skill in building towers ofBabel
In fact, there is good reason, I think, to step away from the torrent surges of information and hyper-networking to think meaningfully about how it all might be changing me--for good and for ill. For with every new improvement and invention irrefutably comes gain and loss. And just as quickly as I can build a case against the gods of media-and-technology, I can also double check my footnotes on Google, if I were a “tweeter,” find dozens of perspectives on Twitter, and watch an interview with the author of one of the headlines mentioned above--all of which came from articles I read online in the first place. This sounds hypercritical to me; but I have found clearly advantages to having immediate access to such an incredibly rich store of information, inasmuch as this hyper-access to people, news, and facts assuredly has far-reaching effects on cognition, as well as the way weI see, or don't see, the world.
Speaking decades before the debates over Twitter or the wonders of Google, Malcolm Muggeridge seemed to foresee the possibilities of too much information. "Accumulating knowledge is a form of avarice and lends itself to another version of the Midas story," he wrote. "Man is so avid for knowledge that everything he touches turns to facts; his faith becomes theology, his love becomes lechery, his wisdom becomes science. Pursuing meaning, he ignores truth." In other words, I think Muggeridge saw that it was possible to see so many news clips that I am no longer seeing, hearing so many sound-bites that I am no longer hearing, seek so many "exclusives" that I am no longer understanding.
Speaking centuries before Muggeridge, the prophet Isaiah and the rabbi Jesus described their audiences quite similarly. "This is why I speak to them in parables," said Jesus, "because 'they look but do not see and hear but do not listen or understand'" Matthew 13:13, Isaiah 6:9-10. I’m wondering; am I living in a time that is complicated by towering opportunities of information and knowledge; news clips, sound bites, blogs, and editorials, all piled so high and wide that is becoming more and more that I am unable to see around my fortresses of facts. But perhaps my human skill in building towers of
I have discovered that in the art and work of sculpture, there is a term used to describe an artist's ability to look at an unformed rock and see it in its completed state. Hyperseeing. I’m gifted this way with wood. What I see most others most others rub their eyes, furrow their brow and ask quizzically: say that again.
It strikes me that the exercise of hyperseeing, then, as it might apply to my towering mountains of rough and unmolded facts, is something to which God tirelessly calls me. Far from building towers of knowledge that make blocking my vision--is both timeless and unprecedented. Learning to see in a way that "reaches the heavens," or, as Einstein once said, "to think the thoughts of God," is far more about seeing God than it is about seeing facts.
I’m thinking today that “hyperseeing” and “hyperhearing’’ means
for me to set aside the accumulation of sound bites and practice God’s vision
and voice. "Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and
unsearchable things you do not know" Jeremiah
33:3.
Far better than a world of mere facts is a world made visible by the wisdom of
God.
Perhaps I will begin practicing the exercise of hyperseeing as I learn to see the power of the resurrection, the glory of the transfiguration, the gift of the Lord's Supper, or the wisdom of the parables in the daily facts and movements of my life in God's kingdom. To be sure, the resurrection of Jesus--the rising of dead flesh to life again--is no more jarring than every other promise I hold because of him, promises I can only see in part, while hyperseeing the extraordinary possibilities of all they will look like upon completion:
"Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together" Isaiah40:4-5.
Father God, I exclaim: Indeed, the eyes of the blind shall be opened, the ears of the deaf unstopped; the lame will leap like deer, the tongue of the speechless sing for joy; waters will break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert. With my hypersight and hyperhearing, within this world of hyper-filled facts and knowledge, may Your Spirit assist me in visualizing the sights and sounds of a kingdom my heart (with or without the help of Google) shall see.
Perhaps I will begin practicing the exercise of hyperseeing as I learn to see the power of the resurrection, the glory of the transfiguration, the gift of the Lord's Supper, or the wisdom of the parables in the daily facts and movements of my life in God's kingdom. To be sure, the resurrection of Jesus--the rising of dead flesh to life again--is no more jarring than every other promise I hold because of him, promises I can only see in part, while hyperseeing the extraordinary possibilities of all they will look like upon completion:
"Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together" Isaiah40:4-5.
Father God, I exclaim: Indeed, the eyes of the blind shall be opened, the ears of the deaf unstopped; the lame will leap like deer, the tongue of the speechless sing for joy; waters will break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert. With my hypersight and hyperhearing, within this world of hyper-filled facts and knowledge, may Your Spirit assist me in visualizing the sights and sounds of a kingdom my heart (with or without the help of Google) shall see.
