*culture is not optional

Forwarding the Kingdom

by Kirstin Vander Giessen-Reitsma

In the same way having a mailing address makes you susceptible to
junk mail and having a phone number makes you susceptible to
telemarketing calls, having an e-mail account makes you susceptible to
mass messages, some of which you'd rather not receive. Some are spawned
by companies whose only consideration is for making money, even at the
expense of general decency. Other messages are forwarded with the best
intentions by those we know and love.

I don't really receive a lot of spam (knockonwood), but I do receive
quite a few forwards, most of which have something to do with
Christianity. I imagine if I were a non-believer receiving these
e-mails, I'd be self-righteously grateful that I had managed to avoid
the Christian virus. If the whole character of the body of Christ were
conveyed in the forwards, I could easily perceive Christians to be a
fearful, angry bunch consumed with endless inane boycotts in the effort
to create a morally spotless, impossibly pure society, basically, a
bunch of delusional weirdos.

Fortunately, I'm in a position to be compassionate toward those I
call my brothers and sisters, proud to be a weirdo in my conviction
that the unseen and improbable spiritual world does exist and asks
something of us flesh and blood creatures. It's this compassion and
identity that prompts me to ask: couldn't we be doing something better
with e-mail? Often, when we use this tool on a large scale, we use it
to complain, even to make people feel guilty. Couldn?t we use e-mail to
encourage others just as systematically as we use it to condemn others?

The problem with e-mail speaks to a larger issue, if we aren't
critical about the tools we use even as we use them, the tools tend to
magnify our faults and our ignorance. If we assume without thinking
that gadgets and devices and wires and gigabytes can improve the
intangible quality of life, we leave ourselves vulnerable to being
broadsided. We merrily edge out into the intersection when suddenly and
unexpectedly, we get hit with realizations about how much we depend on
electricity while others never have access to it, about how much our
moods depend on the friendliness of soulless machines, about how our
children can grow up knowing the theme songs to a thousand commercials,
but not one story from their parents' childhoods. This is serious stuff
about which we need to be constantly thankful and thoughtful.

But not all incongruities of living in a technological age are
humorless. Recently we bought a new gadget to make the process of
transcribing speeches (like those in this issue's feature) a bit
easier. Unfortunately, machines still do not speak our language as
fluently as we would like. It was taking us just as long to correct the
errors and insert the punctuation as it would have for us to listen and
type the old-fashioned way. We really began to question the integrity
of the manufacturer when one of the speaker's sentences transcribed as,
"buy this sorry ass." An accident or subtly wise geek humor? I can't be
sure. Regardless, we decided to just post the audio for the lectures
instead of the transcriptions. Hope your machine is friendly enough to
play it for you.

I also hope that as we engage deeper as a culture in the
possibilities of technology, that believers will be leaders in thinking
and doing wisely as we ought. I don't think this involves reactionary
outrage and righteous offense as much as it does the prayerful work of
discerning the still small voice in the buzz and hum of an electrified
world. Technology has the power to hurt as much as it can heal, to
paralyze as much as it can mobilize, and that's a relevant
consideration whether we?re tackling the AIDS crisis or sending a quick
e-mail.