Pokemon Go and Re-Enchantment

Alissa Wilkinson writes about Pokémon Go for Christianity Today:






"Players find Pokémon hidden in the world they occupy every day.  (A certain Christianity Today editor located one on a copier in our office last week, then promptly posted a photo to Facebook.)  Who doesn't want to chase down presences on their block, or in their school?  Who wouldn't delight in the serendipity of "capturing" a presence that isn't "really" there but might as well be?"






In her exploration of Pokémon Go and also the TV show "Stranger Things" and the movie "Midnight Special", Wilkinson talks about the joy of enchantment:






"What we're after is joy - the serendipity of discovery, the thrill of mystery, the feeling of excitement lurking around the corner.  Modern science brought many great things with it, and many scientists seem to testify that they find wonder and enchantment in their work."






But she says that too much explanation disenchants the world:






"But when this study purports to "explain" why we act as we do, or that (a) set of principles or guidelines proclaims that if we only follow them, we'll be right with ourselves or God - well, doesn't some of the light seem to have gone out of the world?" (Wilkinson, "How Stranger Things Re-Enchants the World", Christianitytoday.com)  






In other words, disenchantment drives us to re-enchant.  This is why there's always a market for Pokémon Go or for any number of TV shows or movies like Blair Witch Project, Conjuring, Stranger Things, or Walking Dead which attempt to explore hidden presences or the supernatural because they re-enchant the world with ghosts, zombies, and demons - and yes, Pikachu - and other such things which modern science disenchanted long ago.




'Disenchantment' is a key term for Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor's exploration of our secular age.  James K.A. Smith writes about it here:




"It is a mainstay of secularization theory that modernity "disenchants" the world - evacuates it of spirits and various ghosts in the machine.  Diseases are not demonic, mental illness is no longer possession, the body is no longer ensouled.  Generally disenchantment is taken to simply be a matter of naturalization: the magical "spiritual" world is dissolved and we are left with the machinations of matter.  But Taylor's account of disenchantment has a different accent, suggesting that this is primarily a shift in the location of meaning, moving it from "the world" into "the mind." 


Significance no longer inheres in things; rather, meaning and significance are a property of minds who perceive meaning internally." (Smith, How (Not) to be Secular, 28-29)


Disenchantment is not only a matter of evacuating, or subtracting the "spirits" or "ghosts" of premodern eras.  Taylor's point is that disenchantment is a relocation of meaning from the world to the mind.  To return again to the way Wilkinson puts it, we have to work harder in a disenchanted, secular world to invest "discovery", "mystery", and "excitement" in things of the world.  Restaurants, churches, and homes can also become Pokestops.

Sin is a Dominion

Sin is not just a verb.  It isn't merely something people act out or do.  This would imply that we could merely stop doing so much of it and it would be fine.  Episcopalian priest Fleming Rutledge seeks to demonstrate in her book The Crucifixion that sin is a verb and also a dominion under which humanity exists.  Sin is "all-inclusive."  It is an "alien power" and "there is nowhere to look within this world order for deliverance." (Rutledge, 189).


To illustrate this, she quotes a 1996 response letter to a New York magazine article about cosmetic surgery: "While reading your cover article I began to wonder what our society would be like if kind hearts and strong minds were respected, revered, and a turn-on.  Obsessing about beauty and thinness is a luxury that only wealthy countries can afford.  We worship the media and the false idols they provide us while in our own cities and elsewhere in the world people are starving.  Yet we are the slaves.  Vanity is a disease, and we Americans are infected." (Rutledge, 190).  The reader's point seems to be that this sort of thing must be stopped, but to stop it, we must understand it.  How do you tell someone to stop obsessing over beauty and thinness, particularly if it is more like a disease.  How do you tell a disease to stop?


Rutledge's point is that sin is more than naughty actions.  Sin is "an infectious disease." (190)  In other words, it is a dominion that we are all under.

Should politicians be trusted?

Barton Swaim has written a book about his time as a speechwriter under disgraced-former-governor-now-congressman of South Carolina Mark Sanford.  He concludes with a reflection on trusting politicians:


"Why do we trust men who have sought and attained high office by innumerable acts of vanity and self-will?  When a work colleague makes a habit of insisting on his own competence and virtue, we may tolerate him, we may even admire his work, but his vanity is not an inducement to trust him.  Why, then, do we trust the men who make careers of persuading us of their goodness and greatness, and who compete for our votes?  Catherine Zuckert makes this point powerfully in an essay on Tom Sawyer.  Tom, remember, is brave and clever and has a firm sense of the right thing to do, but he is animated mainly by a hunger for glory.  He is, in short, the essence of an able politician.  "People like Tom Sawyer serve others not for the sake of others," writes Zuckert.  "They serve because they glory in receiving glory...We should reward such people with the fame they so desire - if and when they perform real public services.  But we should not trust them."  I feel the force of that last sentence now: we go badly wrong when we trust them.  Indeed much of the hand-wringing commentary about the loss of trust in government resulting from Vietnam and Watergate is simply, I now think, a failure to appreciate the simple truth that politicians should never have been trusted in the first place.  They may be lauded when they're right and venerated when they're dead, but they should never be trusted." (Swaim, The Speechwriter, 198-199)


In other words, even if a politician be good or noble or virtuous, Swaim seems to locate a core vanity and hunger for glory that is a stumbling block to trustworthiness.

Longing for Beauty in the Midst of Sorrow and Death

Joseph Loconte explores the role George MacDonald's book Phantastes played in C.S. Lewis' conversion to Christianity.  What is Phantastes about?  "Phantastes explores what at first seems to be a young man's search for feminine beauty, but turns out to be a quest for something much more profound."  The hero's quest encounters various frustrations and sufferings, and what he seems to be pursuing turns out to be not so much a destination as it is a sign pointing beyond itself to something transcendently beautiful.


As Loconte writes, Christianity was very far from Lewis' mind at the time.  But the close of World War I had disposed him to be open to something beyond his generation's commonplace thoughts about progress, patriotism, and religion.


MacDonald wasn't looking for Lewis.  Lewis wasn't looking for MacDonald.  But book and reader found one another, and in Phantastes, Lewis found something important.  In a materialist world, where the material is all there is, none of us point beyond ourselves.  But in a world of signs, the world and all that is within it point beyond themselves.  There is such a thing as false beauty.  But true beauty in this world tells the truth.  It is a sign.  It points to the author of beauty.


This isn't otherworldly and escapist.  In fact, it gave Lewis the strength to see beauty in the midst of death and darkness without ignoring evil.  Loconte writes: "In April 1918, while he was serving as a second lieutenant on the Western Front, Lewis's regiment engaged in a firefight at Riez du Vinage.  A shell exploded close by, killing his sergeant and injuring him with shrapnel in the hand, leg and chest.  Lewis was sent by train to a hospital in London.  The pleasure of the English countryside - set against the suffering and horror of war - seemed to quicken his belief in a transcendent source of natural beauty.


'"Can you imagine how I enjoyed my journey to London?"  Lewis wrote to a friend from his bed at Endsleigh Palace Hospital.  "First of all the sight and smell of the sea, that I have missed for so many long and weary months, and then the beautiful green country seen from the train...You see the conviction is gaining ground on me that after all Spirit does exist.  I fancy there is Something right outside time and place, which did not create matter, as the Christians say, but is matter's great enemy." (Loconte, Books and Culture vol 22, number 4, pg. 5)


In the midst of real sorrow and death, Lewis found his longing for beauty strengthened.  What Lewis is encountering here - what is also drenched in MacDonald's books - is what many Christians over the centuries have described as a "sacramental" understanding of the world - that it points beyond itself to the one who made it.

A Story of Power, Knowledge, and Love

There were three young adults.  One was named Goliath. He was powerful. His muscles were tight and strong.  He never had to persuade anyone to do anything because everyone was always eager to please him anyway.  When he daydreamed, he daydreamed about conferences with heads of state.  Work-out enthusiasts, biker gangs, and car aficionados and military folks everywhere revered Goliath.  Goliath was the sort of person who inspired tremendous courage and others would willingly follow him into battle.  The second was named Solomon.  He understood what everyone really wanted out of life.  He could sell anything because he knew what everyone wanted to hear.  He could negotiate his way out of any situation.  Men and women alike loved knowing he was around because he knew so much.  His interests were so varied, and he understood human nature so well that he was incredibly witty, humorous, with great insights about agriculture, vitamins, spices.  He understood the world of finance, and could speak with great sophistication on any subject.  Anyone who spoke with him felt that he truly did understand what it was like to be them.  And he did.  His is the single most downloaded TED talk ever given.  The third was named Jane.  She loved a little kid named Ty.  She was his foster mother for the early part of his life.  And though this was just a portion of his life, it was her life’s work.  She knew exactly how much sugar he liked in his tea.  She woke him up.  She put him to sleep.  She told him stories in the evening when the sunlight was low with shadowpuppets on the wall.  Sometimes Ty would insult her because it was clear he had the power to hurt her.  And it did hurt her.  Others thought she was too emotional.  Others thought she was frivolous.  Taking walks with her took forever because she would notice things like butterflies.  She laughed a lot.  Some thought she wasn’t serious enough.

Now there was a fairy who lived in Jane’s neighborhood who would occasionally help Jane out with little chores and cooking.  One day another fairy with an official looking uniform appeared.  “I’ve come from the council”, he said.  “We have looked into the heart of what is to come, and it seems Ty must prepare to become a great leader of humanity.”  But the official fairy was very unimpressed with Jane, who seemed very weak, clingy, and vulnerable.  So he went to work.  Jane’s fairy defended her, but he wouldn’t listen.

As Ty grew up, he enlisted in the military.  The commander of his unit was Goliath.  Ty quickly became Goliath’s star pupil.  But even as he became more powerful, confident, and skilled in getting his way, he only made others afraid.  They were in awe of him, but they didn’t love him.  Like most small things around him, Jane vanished in his eyes.  He never came by.  When he did see her, he always hurt her feelings somehow.  The official fairy was disappointed.  Power had seemed to alienate Ty from people.

The fairy saw to it that Ty ended up as a PhD candidate under Solomon where Solomon did some adjunct professorial work.  This led to a spot on the board of Solomon’s media company which oversaw cultural journals, book reviews, TV network, and a global conference for technological and financial elites.  Ty became Solomon’s star pupil.  He was constantly acknowledged in a wide variety of books, and his schedule became filled with all sorts of cocktail parties.  But even as he became very knowledgeable about influence, success, management, and more, he was more and more motivated by predicting trends and staying current, discovering untapped talent, that even though he thought he was selfless, the truth was all too apparent to the fairy from his metrics that Ty wasn’t so much of a leader as a star with countless planets revolving around him.  Jane’s letters that she was praying for him were answered with embarrassed, sophisticated, condescension which Ty took for being sweet.

When Jane died, her family asked Ty to make contributions to her obituary.  As he took some time one morning to try to organize some words around Jane’s life, he felt strangely moved that he could not capture Jane’s life in words.  Her life was so simple and so dedicated to him that it came across small in such a way that embarrassed him, for how she had dedicated herself to him.  For vast periods of stillness, he simply held her before his eyes.  He began to wonder if she were not the most loving person he had ever met.  What truly began to move him was that he could see this in her when he had never seen it before.  He began to wonder for the first time in his life whether he might be a good person because he could see this in her.  As his mind moved through thoughts like these, he felt as though he were being given what he most deeply longed for in that very moment.

Words cannot describe what Ty went on to do.  But the fairy, when he reclined with his fairy beverage at the end of the day, he would think about this moment, when Jane’s life of selfless love filled his being.  He didn’t think about the power that Ty went on to wield with such dignity and valor.  He didn’t think about the knowledge which Ty held with such kindness.  He thought about that one moment when Ty was so filled with wonder at Jane’s love for him that all he had ever done  or ever hoped to do seemed as nothing to him compared with even one single tear that had fallen from Jane’s cheek on his account. 

In those days the word of the LORD was rare

1 Samuel 3:1-19 plays a central role in the early part of the book of 1 Samuel.  David Dorsey maps the book out as follows:


a  introduction: Samuel's birth and lifelong dedication to Yahweh (1:1-2:11)
               b  Eli's wicked sons show contempt for Yahweh at the tabernacle (2:12-26)
                             c  prophecy that Eli's sons will be killed on one day (2:27-3:1a)
                                           d  TURNING POINT: Samuel's call (3:1b-4:1a)
                             c'  prophecy about Eli's sons comes true: their deaths (4:1b-22)
               b'  travels of the ark; Philistines show respect for Yahweh's ark (5:1-7:1)
a'  conclusion: Samuel's victory and lifelong rule over Israel (7:2-17)


The passage begins with a general comment on God's word.  "In those days the word of the LORD was rare; there were not many visions." (3:1)


Then, in the subsequent passage, young Samuel repeatedly hears the LORD calling to him.  The fact that Samuel confuses the voice calling him for the priest Eli seems to underscore that the LORD has spoken to Samuel four different times in one night.  He keeps calling.


The passage's central role in the first seven chapters shows that power is being taken away from Eli and his wicked sons and given to Samuel.  The cause of this has been Eli's disregard for God's word.  But Eli knows God has spoken to Samuel, and his disregard turns to intense concern for what God has said: "What was it he said to you?"  Eli asked.  "Do not hide it from me.  May God deal with you, be it ever so severely, if you hide from me anything he told you." (3:17)


The passage ends with a note about Samuel's words: "The LORD was with Samuel as he grew up, and he let none of Samuel's words fall to the ground."  For a passage so focused on the dignity and gravity of God's words, it is fitting that the one he favors, Samuel, would have his words blessed as well.

When Do Differences Create Enmity and Anger?

When do differences create enmity and anger?


This is what Socrates asks Euthyphro.  First, Socrates considers whether differences about numbers lead to enmity: "Suppose for example that you and I, my good friend, differ about a number; do differences of this sort make us enemies and set us at variance with one another?  Do we not go at once to arithmetic, and put an end to them by sum?" (Plato, 388)


We do, answers Euthyphro.


Socrates considers some other possibilities: differences about measurements, or how much something weighs?


Euthyphro agrees that we also have means by which to resolve these disagreements with one another.


Socrates continues: "But what differences are there which cannot be thus decided, and which therefore make us angry and set us at enmity with one another?  I dare say the answer does not occur to you at the moment, and therefore I will suggest that these enmities arise when the matters of difference are the just and unjust, good and evil, honourable and dishonourable.  Are not these the points about which men differ, and about which when we are unable satisfactorily to decide our differences, you and I and all of us quarrel, when we do quarrel?" (388)


In other words, human beings will be reasonable and work out agreements about many things.  They don't set out to make enemies where they can press on together.  But about matters of what is just or unjust, they will struggle to find means to "satisfactorily" decide the differences.  Being satisfied is key here.  Deciding that someone else's measurement is more accurate is a much easier step than renouncing one's sense of good and evil in favor of another's.  We hold very close to our heart what we deem to be good and just. 

A Shattering Experience

Scottish theologian Thomas Torrance writes about the importance of teaching Christian doctrine to children: "One of the great tragedies of modern life is that the neglect of doctrinal teaching to children at an early age, has meant that their powers in other areas of intellectual life are often developed out of all proportion to their powers in Christian and spiritual understanding..." (School of Faith, 39)


In other words, Torrance sees a parallel process in learning a basic grammar of doctrine alongside our other early learning endeavors.


Lack of balance here causes problems later down the road in life.  What sort of problems might this cause?  Torrance writes: "Conversion in the psychological sense takes place when, as a result of such an unbalanced development and the radical dichotomy it involves, adaptation to the truth can only be a shattering experience.  But that need not happen if Christian instruction and learning have been properly fulfilled." (39)


Torrance's choice of metaphor is interesting here - "a shattering experience."  We understand what it means for a conversion to be painful or difficult.  Family and friends don't understand.  Jobs are relinquished.  But shattering?  What exactly shatters?


Presumably, a conversion shatters when reconciliation and growth in the life of faith come at a point when many other habits or traits of thought or life have become fully ingrained that then have to be given up or unlearned.  It is shattering psychologically.  It feels like we are in pieces.


'Shattering' conversions are certainly still conversions.  Indeed, even if we are not shattered by the experience, we feel some pressure of the significance of it, don't we?  Shouldn't we?  Yet, as Torrance says, the one who has had a shattering conversion may truly yearn for an alternate reality in which he or she had learned doctrine as a child as with other building blocks of life.