The language of technology seems to have furthered my sense
of importance by bidding me to claim and personalize the small world I have enmeshed myself in. I am only
one click away from "my documents," "my calendar," "my
favorites," "my music," "my pictures," and "my
shopping cart." Anthropologist Thomas de Zengotita calls it
"MeWorld." Writing in Harper's Magazine, he examines the ways in
which the world of media shapes our lives, de Zengotita portrays the
technologically advanced, media-saturated West as a world filled with millions
of individual "flattered selves," each living in its own insulated,
personalized world. He believes the narcissism that comes from living in
MeWorld has been fashioned and is constantly being fed by media representations
in all areas of our lives, from those private representations that purport us
the star (home videos, wedding photos, Facebook, Tweeter, etc.) to the public
advertisements, television, and magazines that ever address us personally.
I'm close to the conclusion that as subtle as it may be, the
most precarious part of flattered living is that I'm gradually losing more and
more sight of both life and my self. Despite all of the overt declarations on
my computer, iPhone, iPad, television, and bill boards, this is not, in fact,
"my world." Though I am flattered by the attention of MeWorld, I am
not the center of all existence. It has been the French philosopher, Rene
Descartes, who has outlined for me one reason why: "Now, if I were
independent of all other existence, and were myself the author of my being...I
should have given myself all those perfections of which I have some idea, and I
should thus be God." In other
words, if I were truly independent, if the world truly revolved around me, why
should I find in myself any imperfection at all? Is it not then rational to
live as if I am the center of the world?
My theology outlook takes this inquiry one step further. Am I not going to make a conscious choice at to how I'm going to cultivate an awareness that this is God's world
while living the rest of my years in a world that insists that
it is mine? The counter-cultural admission that I am not my own or walking
alone will certainly be a good starting point. This poem I found called "The Avowal" by Denise Levertov,
I'm thinking, helps:
As swimmers dare
to lie face to the sky
and water bears them,
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to attain
freefall, and float
into Creator Spirit's deep embrace,
knowing no effort earns
that all-surrounding grace.
Really, Bill, isn't living both coherently and
authentically involved helping you understand what undergirds yourself? I think of the old song, this morning that
exclaims: "This is my Father's world. O let me ne'er forget."
As is often my custom I placed myself in the narrative of Johns
Gospel, 14th chapter; sitting with the disciples when Jesus looks to us
one of His last nights on earth and covers our hearts with a similar notion.
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my
Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am
going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for
you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I
am. You know the way to the place where I am going... I am the way and the
truth and the life."
Father, God, there is great relief in confessing that my
world is surely the Lord's and all that is in it. I've also recognizing at this
ripening age it is a fresh starting point, the place where I begin the journey
toward home. I do not want to entertain flattery on my journey to my house but
a continued transformation by the very One who is preparing the way. Amen
No comments:
Post a Comment