The Hubris of Internet Postings (Including this One)

So I was frustrated at responses to my recent Facebook posting. They were self-centered and over-confident, or at least they drew more attention to their authors than to the subject at hand, or any rational critique of it. I thought, "Why do these people think they can so quickly take over my brilliant posting, making it their own opportunity to shine, to show how clearly they understand properly what I only thought was a noble enterprise." (In this case, it was reading a classic book.)

But then I realized that their own attempts merely mirrored mine, which was in itself a kind of cute attempt to bragg about my skillful choice of provocative reading material on a national holiday weekend. Alas, I too wanted to mark my space, make my claim, place my flag of power and worth before the amorphous and explosive world of the internet. (And now I am doing it again.)

The internet is a remarkable and troubling medium. It allows complete strangers, distant acquaintances, and close family or friends to post things -- pictures, writings, links, games -- that "connect" and "communicate" and, often, "confuse." The internet allows for "community" and convenient contact.

Or does it? I'm beginning to think that for all its benefits, the internet provides a kind of false comfort that we are actually flourishing as a human community, that we are growing intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually as we post our lines and poke our friends. We come to believe that we are happier and perhaps more entertained or more enriched through it all. Perhaps we deceive ourselves. Maybe we are only using the protection of the screen as a way to pump up our own self-centeredness, our own pride, our own sense of worth. Maybe not.

Christians are compelled to take seriously the central teaching of the faith: God became flesh and dwelt among us. The Lord of the universe took on human identity to model what being human means. God did not send a text message, a Facebook post, or a blogger essay. God essentially said "It's not enough to talk at each other, or about each other. If we want to maintain humanity, it's crucial that we actually touch and see, smell and hear each other." For when we don't, we make easier the move to hubris and power, rather than humility and love.

Yes, it's full of inconsistencies, including the use of this blog to speak against blogging.

Hmmm.

Surprises Along the Highway

So I start out at 8:00 a.m. to travel the 4 and 1/2 hours to my mother's home, hoping to surprise her on her Easter Sunday 82nd birthday. An hour into the trip, my right rear tire blows, and I find myself trying to put one of those really small temporary spare tires on the axle, on Easter Sunday morning. But the spare is flat.

Off the Caprock (if you don't know Texas, you need to look it up), in the middle of nowhere, I dutifully change the tire -- flat for flat -- and decide to crawl back to the nearest town, Post. There I find out what is not surprising at all -- no tires stores open on Sunday ever. So I air up the tire, and proceed back home, at 45 mph, because I don't really trust a spare tire on which I just rode for 15 miles.

All is well, so as I climb up the Caprock (really a spectacular sight), I decide to pull in at the lookout picnic area that I've passed a million times before. (The day is shot, and who's in a hurry?) It's called "The Chimney Rocks," according to the sign. Apparently, back in the early 1900s, C.W. Post fired dynamite off the rise, into the lower range below, hoping to feed the atmosphere with necessary air changes that would produce rain. (Really; look it up). Yes, the Post of the cereal fortune. It's a beautiful sight, especially for those of us on the High Plains who long for topographical change; the vista is lovely and large and produces a longing for all.

So I walk around the park, and there it is: A bumper sticker poster on the garbage can, proclaiming "Honor your Father and Mother." Oh, no. What have I done? Is this a sign too turn back, trust the temporary spare, go on valiantly?

But I ignore it. I walk to the fenced edge, looking over prickly pear and mesquite, hugging the edge of the cliff as it falls down onto the city of Post. And there it is, the second sign: a tire. Oh, no. Oh, no. Should I panic? What in the world am I supposed to see/hear? I squint, and look for the size -- 205 55 r 16 -- that would be a stunner. But, alas, it is a 14 inch tire. I am safe.

No message from God. or the Easter Bunny.

Just a lost travel to my Mother's home, and

A day to live and wonder.

slp

A Tribute to an Executive

I do not know Mr. Rob Katz. A Wharton Business School graduate and former Wall Street player, the 42-year old now serves as the chief executive officer for Vail Resorts. While congressional politics were finding ways to bail out major financial and business institutions in late 2008, Mr. Katz was exercising bold creativity himself. He announced that his own 2009 salary would be cut to zero, and in successive years reduced from its previous rate by 15 percent. The company's executives and top directors would see a 20 percent pay cut, office workers a 10 percent pay cut, and all other workers a 2.5 percent pay cut.

When asked in an interview about these moves, Katz said "We have chosen to address this situation by making the preservation of jobs and protecting the guest experience our highest priorities. By asking everyone to take less, starting at the top, we can continue to focus on our mission of extraordinary resorts, exceptional experiences."

Preserving jobs and protecting the product for customers. What a novel idea. Starting at the top. What a virtuous ideal.

Would that other corporations, businesses, and schools would follow suit.

Musings on the Liberal Arts: Rest in Peace?

I've been grieving lately, and only now realize the process. For a good while there has been a trend in higher education away from the pursuit of wisdom and toward the fast-track to jobs. No one would doubt the importance of college for success in careers, and certainly those with vested interests -- taxpayers, donors, and parents, as a start -- deserve to see "results." But the myopic fascination with speed and precision, technical perfection and immediate relevance, costs and benefits, distorts the central importance of the life of learning itself. Despite the common knowledge that a broad-based education in the arts and sciences best prepares one for the world of work and living, today's colleges and universities are racing toward a glorious goal of streamlined trade schools. There is no room, we are told, for the luxuries of "irrelevant" courses in history, philosophy, astronomy, or art. These courses merely slow down the productive process, and their professors simply cost us too much.

C. S. Lewis once discussed, in an essay on "Learning in Times of War," the importance of the pursuit of knowledge and beauty for their own sake and for God's sake. Speaking to students at Oxford just after the start of World War II, he urged them to focus on their current vocation, their present "calling," and to diligently oppose the enemies of learning -- excitement, frustration, and fear. Too often, he says, students and faculty alike are drawn away from study by the distractions of urgent events, job preparations, insecurities, and the allure of the novel. How much more so today with immediate diversions at every finger. And how very strange, and sad, that those whose central mission is to advance learning and wisdom are among the most prolific models of their own failures.

Finally, Time to Garden

Okay, I'm going to risk it: no more freezes, so time to plant the tomatoes. Every year I move too early, but certainly we are done by now....certainly!

What would Spring be without the ritual of garden preparations? Turning the dirt with a simple shovel, digging hands into the clumps and breaking them up, separating nasty grass roots from precious composting worms, raking the ground smooth, marking the rows, and placing the tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, and broccoli? Never mind that there is not enough space. Never mind that there is not enough time. Never mind that the planting won't be finished for weeks.

Ah, but anticipate that first juice tomato, those shiny eggplants, more peppers than any salsa needs.

I can't wait.

A Note to My Facebook Friends and Others

For a while lately I have been wondering whether Facebook is an appropriate venue for social networking, as it claims. What does “social networking” mean? It could be exchanging family news, friend news, church news, reunion news. And it could mean networking with common interests, sharing common concerns, discussing larger issues and matters that influence our common soc-iety.

I find that the first general approach is the “fallback” position for Facebook, but the latter way of using Facebook is actually more common, althoug sometimes subtly so. Even when not asked, we are all bombarded with comments, surveys, attachments, and links that move the "simple" exchanges into more complicated sharings of what matters deeply to each of us. And when this second approach bothers us as recipients too much, we often revert to seeing Facebook as only for the most positive and basic forms of social networking. Facebook should not be religious, or political, we might protest, or we might be told.

This complicated, wonderful medium is precisely what makes Facebook work. For what it’s worth, I’ve decided not to opt out, but I’ve also decided not to worry about who likes or dislikes what I say. I’ll promise not to be personally offensive, or to use inflammatory rhetoric, as is common courtesy in all civil discourse. But the amount of discussion my recent posts have caused, and the amount of positive encouragement I have received – from students, my primary audience, as well as other friends for whom I am thankful to have the interchange—tell me that we all like a good discussion, and we all are really more interested in culture, religion, politics, values, and faith than we might initially think.

We like the interchanges because they move Facebook networking from charming niceties to substantial sharing of the depths of our complicated and wonderful selves.

Or so it seems.

slp / 11 Sept 09

20 December 2008, 5:00 p.m. Bangalore, Karnataka, India

On this last day as a tourist/student in India, I went to Catholic Mass. Actually, I happened upon St. Mary’s Basilica, as daily mass was commencing, and I figured that if I could do puja in a sacred Hindu city, then maybe Christian Catholic mass was okay. At the service, I was blessed by the large and devout crowd of congregants, reciting the liturgy in full voice and kneeling in prayer on floor and in pew. Once again, at a Christian service in India, I saw the ways that religious traditions cross over into each other: Indian Christians bringing marigolds to offer to Jesus and Mary, devotees folding hands in the classic Hindu style, and acceptance of the host like Sikhs and Hindus accept the prasada following prayers. The service was actually my first attendance in a Catholic mass, I’m embarrassed to say (in World Religions courses, I often require students to do so). Perhaps, on this pilgrimage journey of my own, it is appropriate that I attended the mass here.

Earlier I walked enthusiastically the few blocks from my hotel to visit the Bangalore Parsee Zoroastrian Temple. After visiting numerous Hindu shrines and temples, many Muslim mosques, some Christian churches, and after never being refused entry into a Sikh or Jain temple, I was surprised to be denied entry here, even to the porch area. Although a guard let me walk on the grounds, a priest soon emerged to lecture the guard and deny me conversation or entry. In the very security-conscious environment here in Bangalore, I will assume that language barriers, terrorism concerns, and perhaps a little theology are the bases for this abrupt refusal. Zoroastrians are known for a very strict works righteousness – God is a god who will punish fiercely, and there is no concept of mercy – as well as their reverence for their holy scriptures, the Avesta, which they deem to be the presence of God itself.

Bangalore is a large modern city, filled with buses and auto rickshaws, professional office buildings and technology firms, and several large parks. The photo is actually of a smaller neighborhood one, simply because my feet are tired of walking any more. Today I also stopped to have a shoe shine, the first on the trip (despite the incessant offerings in North India). I did have to wait about 15 minutes, as the cobbler repaired several sandals for a lady while negotiating a deal to make a new pair of dress shoes for another customer. I found his quick skilled handwork impressive, and his attitude of hard, positive work rewarding. He is one of thousands of similar shoe makers who line Indian streets with little stalls, laboring every day with an important skill. Likely there are similar workers in America, but once again I was reminded how much we do not see in the U.S., as well as how little we value the toil taken for something as simple as a pair of shoes.

The city has a large Muslim population, and I spoke with the imam at this very large Islamic center (worship mosque, community center, and educational facility). He was pleased that I could say a few Arabic phrases – Thanks be to God, In the name of God, Peace to you in the name of God – and I was pleased to hear of the community’s strong message against terrorism, as the sign reflects.



While in Amritsar early on this trip, I was introduced to the writings of Khushwant Singh, one of India’s most widely read and controversial Sikhs. He had been active in the struggles between Sikhs, Hindus, and Muslims around the time of the creation of Pakistan, and he was important to the work of Gandi and others. He has an autobiography, entitled “Truth, Love, and a Little Malice.” I suppose that is both the goal and the reality for most of us. We want to speak and know the truth, we want to love and be loved, and, alas, we admit that we share thoughts of envy and anger. This online journal began as an attempt to think aloud about my India journey – to wrestle with matters of faith and spirituality, politics and tolerance, modernity and globalism. And I suppose, as an attempt at truth, love, as well as the calming of malice.

The journey has only begun.

slp