Sitting with my wife in a doctor’s waiting area, I watched a
muted, but captioned television program. It featured a young couple struggling
both to start a new business and build a home in a remote corner of Montana
where they and their eighteen-month-old daughter would live. The
wife-mother-business partner said they dreamed of living “off the grid” with
“no cellphones or computers.” We were called to see the doctor as the couple
rushed to finish the roof of their home before the first snows came.
This story of a couple wanting to live miles from any neighbors,
live without the cellphone coverage most of us prize, live off the grid, reminded
me of another story in the news. In
Texas, a truck driven by a man texting on his cellphone had crashed into a
church bus killing thirteen senior citizens. Here was a man who could not disengage from
the grid long enough to drive safely from one place to another.
Living off the grid once meant being disconnected from any public
utility, perhaps using wind power to supply electricity and even water. The would-be off-gridders in Montana sought
freedom not only from physical connections but from the more ubiquitous,
invisible connections linking us to a demanding world.
A quarter-century ago our family bought our first computer. It wasn’t especially powerful and had little
memory, yet the hardware—CPU, monitor, keyboard, and printer—covered the entire
desk. Our first access to the Internet
was through a dial-up service; for those of you who have only known broadband
and Wi-Fi, that meant we had to limit our online time because no one could call
us if we were using it—a concern for a pastor, a crisis for two teenagers. Now, we don’t even have a landline and I
carry a much more powerful computer in my pocket. This computer places me on the grid; its apps
allow me to search for answers to arcane questions, help me keep track of
appointments, and inform me if a rogue dictator bombs a neighboring country or
a celebrity couple files for divorce after a few months of marriage.
Buying our first cellphones was a major step. We thought it was a smart way for our sons to
call us if they had problems while they were out with their friends. The phones let us stay in touch if either they
or we were mobile. We never imagined how
much smarter these devices would become.
I hesitated to give the number out. I knew the deacons and most people in the
congregation would be circumspect in calling.
I knew some would call night or day, even if I were on vacation, with
such messages as, “Pastor, I knew you’d want to know someone left a light on in
the ladies’ restroom.” Eventually, I relented
and let the number be published in the church directory; there were a few
“lights-left-on” calls but I felt better knowing members could reach me if they
couldn’t reach a deacon or wanted to talk about something they didn’t want to
share with a deacon. Sure, there have
been occasions when I would have happily tossed the phone into a full
baptistery but overall the benefits of owning a cellphone have outweighed the
disadvantages.
Oh, I can understand the desire to escape from our connected
world. Once, I had to worry about
street-corner con artists trying to sell me a genuine “Rodex” watch for $50.00;
now, because of the new connectedness, I have to worry about con artists in
Nigeria, Taiwan, Peru, and elsewhere trying to steal my identity. Yet, because of that new connectedness, I can
ask a former professor with a question, review the ingredients for an online
recipe without leaving the grocery, and watch my grandson who lives a thousand
miles away play his air guitar in real time.
Sometimes, even the critics fail to see how much they depend upon
the technology linked to the grid.
I heard two sermons at the church I now attend, sermons preached
about three weeks apart, sermons on different topics, sermons from different
speakers. Each speaker took a moment to
chasten us listeners for our use of “the screen.” By this, the speakers meant their listeners’
continually looking at TVs, cellphones, tablets, and computers. As they spoke, their salient points—including
their comments about the screen—were being flashed onto the four screens around
the auditorium. After the messages,
those screens carried an invitation to look for more teachings at the church’s
website, an act which necessarily involves looking at a screen.
The speakers were not being
hypocrites. They just momentarily forgot
how much “the screen,” like “the grid,” is engrained in modern life.
Remember, the
story of the Montana couple wanting to live off the grid was being told on
cable television—an entity sustained by the grid. And, of course, I am writing this essay as I
stare at a screen
The screen being inescapable does not mean it should dominate all our
moments. The truck driver’s texting made
him a hazard on the road. I’ve spent
some time in that part of Texas and I know a driver can find a place to stop if
a text must be sent. True, it might not
be a Wal-Mart parking lot; it might be a service station or just a wide
berm. But it would be a place to
stop. I’m sure he wasn’t the only driver
texting that day; most escaped harming themselves or others—all put themselves
and others in harm’s way. Surely, those
texts could wait.
Yet, temperance in its original meaning of “moderation” seems a
forgotten virtue. Asking someone to be
self-restrained seems like advocating self-induced cruel and unusual
punishment. Some simply avoid the issue.
I know the mother in a family of five who never buys chips or
cookies because one family member will eat them all in a single sitting. Of course, the other family members are not
really suffering from the absence of snacks in the pantry but somehow failing
to help the ravenous member toward self-control foreshadows greater problems.
Perhaps gluttony was included as one of the “Seven Deadly Sins”
because it was the obvious visible expression of no self-control, no
moderation. When sixth-century Pope
Gregory I created the “modern” list of the seven deadly sins, there were no
fast food restaurants offering to super-size a serf’s fries; perhaps those who
least had to worry about their next meal were most prone to intemperance.
Nevertheless, in our age of extremes we must not forget gluttony was the deadly
sin, not eating.
A few years ago I noticed an interesting juxtaposition of counsel
in Paul’s letter to the Ephesian church and to Timothy, the apostle’s traveling
companion who became the pastor of that church.
Paul told the church, “do not be drunk with wine,” a command that has
often been used somewhat questionably to defend teetotalism. To Timothy, who possibly suffered a digestive
ailment, Paul said, “drink a little wine for your stomach’s sake.” Taken together, it seems Paul would recommend
thoughtful moderation in the use of wine.
In the end, I suspect Paul would say to those who choose to drink alcohol,
“Don’t overdo it” and to those who choose to abstain, “Don’t judge.”
When it comes to matters like “the screen” or other grid-linked
paraphernalia, what does moderation mean? Somewhere between renouncing the grid and
never allowing electronics to sleep. But
where is that middle ground? Some might
find it accidentally, some through deliberate resolve.
A friend told me he knew something was wrong when he realized how
often during a typical day he exchanged work-related text messages with a
co-worker in the next cubicle. He
resolved to do something about it. He
discovered standing up and stepping around the dividing wall to ask his
questions garnered information more quickly and with less confusion than the
old-fashioned method of texting. Still,
he does floor-to-floor and building-to-building texting but interacts face-to-face
with co-workers who are a few yards away.
Chip and Joanna Gaines, known for hosting HGTV’s “Fixer Upper,”
are admired for being committed to their family. Interviewed on Entertainment Tonight, Joanna admitted, "I tell the kids that
you are probably not going to get a cell phone. We want to teach our kids that
life happens outside of these devices. It's just a simple thing to go outside
and connect with nature, play with your friends and get dirty."[1] Then, too, for the sake of their family the
couple decided to have a television-free home. That seems to resonate with some people; of
course, those admirers only know the couple because of television.
Giving the TV to Goodwill might be the way for some families to
regain balance. Most can find less
dramatic ways.
Our daughter-in-law assures our grandson has “gross motor time”
each day, an hour of so of running, climbing, and other outdoor
activities. The six-year-old still knows
his way around an i-Pad but he also knows he can have fun without a screen in
sight.
Some families have instituted pizza and board game nights. Age-appropriate games can foster sharing,
reasoning, and imagination—all without the grid.
If you’re spending time with your family, driving, or just
reading, don’t respond to every text, even those reporting the crazy thing the
Democrats, the Republicans, or your neighbors have done.
I will say no more lest I stray into micromanaging your lives.
Even among evangelicals, “moderation” is an amorphous term. A friend thinks having one beer a week
borders on profligacy; moderation for my friend allows little wiggle room. Yet,
my friends who can tell the difference between IPAs, stouts, and ciders—by
taste—are genuinely concerned when others abuse alcohol. Their idea of moderation would differ from
that of my teetotaler friend but they still encourage moderation.
Fears about the tech world often prove to be unjustified. Children who play video games still play with
real friends in the park, still risk bruises riding skateboards, still look
forward to birthday parties with real, not virtual, cake. Young people who text throughout the day still
write (relatively) lucid sentences for English class, though thanks to tweeting
they may know more about Lady Gaga than Lady Macbeth.
A local body shop uses billboards saying, “Tailgating is evidence
of low intellect.” At the very least. If some who regularly text, search the web,
and otherwise stare at a screen do so while hurtling down a highway at
sixty-five miles an hour, perhaps their problem is not with technology but with
hearts and minds infected with hubris, indifference, and thoughtlessness.
Getting off the grid won’t fix such hearts.
(www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/parenting/news/a40908/chip-joanna-gaines-cell-phones-kids.) Accessed April 26, 2017.
