In 2019,
I want to write about ‘un-screening’ my life.
First,
this is not literally true. I’m typing
this and reading it on a screen. That
reflects some of the ambiguity of screens and technology. My tone takes for granted both the
inevitability of technology – that it is so pervasive that it takes on a
world-building sort of omnipresence. It
is the world as we find it. My son picks
up screen technology just as easily as he picks up an apple. As such, I don’t really ‘have it in for’
technology. I’m not really interested to
score points against it. I don’t foresee
a world without it. That said, my tone
will also reflect a deeply pessimistic account of screen technology, not for
what it is in itself, but what we become when we have it. I don’t think it is a good thing.
Second,
this will be a personal reflection. My
own dependence on screens over the course of 2018 seemed morally dubious to me
at best. It certainly wasn’t morally
neutral. I anticipate this writing
project will help me to keep something like a year-long Lenten discipline of
narrowing the margin between my consciousness and screen usage. It’s a little too easy to pull out the smart
phone. My mind has been bypassed. My thumb knows too well what it is doing as
it accesses my favorite guilty pleasures, care-free zones, laugh echo-chambers,
life escapes. I have hopes for what I
will be doing or thinking about instead of being on screens. As such, I think an important part of this
will be what becomes possible to think or do once screen technology becomes
thoughtfully marginalized.
Third, I
find screens to be theologically interesting.
‘Mediation’ is a one-word summary for how interesting these topics
are. Mediation describes representation
of content – the baseball game on the radio, the football game or news show on
the TV, the space exhibit at the museum.
You know, media. Want to
experience something new, something exciting?
Most of the time, it isn’t direct.
It is mediated by something, and often it is through a screen. Mediation also describes the work of Jesus
Christ. He represents God to humanity
and represents humanity to God. Much of
religious experience seems to come down to questions of access or alienation,
being on the inside of temples and holy places or on the outside of them. What kind of access do we have to God? What kind of access do we have to the shows
we watch? Screens feel accessible. But are they?
Do they keep us out of something just as much if not more than they let
us in on something?
Again, if
screens lose some of their power, this might free us up for a re-introduction
to creation. To trees. To fairy tales. To books.
To food. To drink. To sleep.
This would be a good thing.
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