(Excerpts from the whole article found on www.christiancentury.org/article.lasso?id=1195)
Philosopher Albert Borgmann, a Montana neighbor of mine, is our most eloquent and important spokesman in exposing the dangers of letting technology determine the way we live, dictating the means by which we, in his phrase, “take up with the world.”
Borgmann is not antitechnology. In fact, he’s very respectful of it. He just doesn’t want it to ruin us, and it is ruining us. In great and thoughtful detail, he brilliantly answers the question Walker Percy raised in several novels: “How does it happen that we know so much and can do so much and live so badly?” This is the concern motivating the contemplative life, and it is a concern of spiritual theology: to focus attention on the way we live, the means that we employ to embody the reality and carry out the demands of Jesus who became flesh among us.
Two areas are conspicuously in need of attention these days regarding ways and means, areas in which we’re doing the right thing the wrong way. And because we’re doing it the wrong way, the wheels are coming off the wagon. The two areas are our approaches to congregational life and to scripture.
The congregation is not about us. It is about God. God calls a people. Jesus named 12 disciples to be with him. The Spirit descends upon 120 praying men and women filling them with itself. The people we gather with for worship each Sunday and work with as salt and light are not of our choosing. God calls and forms this people, whom the Hebrew prophets are bold to designate “the people of God,” and St. Paul was unembarrassed to call “saints.”
God means to do something with us and means to do it in community. We are in on what God is doing, in on it together. We become present to what God intends to do with and for us through worship. In worship, we become present to the God who is present to us.
The operating biblical metaphor regarding worship is sacrifice. We bring ourselves to the altar and let God do to us what God will. We bring ourselves to the eucharistic table, entering into that grand fourfold shape of the liturgy that shapes us: taking, blessing, breaking, giving—the life of Jesus taken and blessed, broken and distributed; and that eucharistic life now shapes our lives as we give ourselves, Christ in us, to be taken, blessed, broken and distributed in lives of witness and service, justice and healing.
But this is not the American way. The major American innovation in the congregation is to turn it into a consumer enterprise. Americans have developed a culture of acquisition, an economy that is dependent on wanting and requiring more. We have a huge advertising industry designed to stir up appetites we didn’t even know we had. We are insatiable. It didn’t take long for some of our colleagues to develop consumer congregations. If we have a nation of consumers, obviously the quickest and most effective way to get them into our churches is to identify what they want and offer it to them. Satisfy their fantasies, promise them the moon, recast the gospel into consumer terms—entertainment, satisfaction, excitement and adventure, problem-solving, whatever. We are the world’s champion consumers, so why shouldn’t we have state-of-the-art consumer churches?
Given the conditions prevailing in our culture, we have the best and most effective way ever devised for gathering large and prosperous congregations. Americans lead the world in showing how to do it. There’s only one thing wrong. This is not the way that God brings us into conformity with the life of Christ. This is not the way that we become less and Jesus becomes more. This is not the way in which our lives become available to others in justice and service. The cultivation of consumer spirituality is the antithesis of a sacrificial, “denying yourself” congregation. A consumer church is an anti-Christ church. It’s doing the right thing—gathering a congregation—but doing it in the wrong way. This is not the way to develop a contemplative life, a life in which the Jesus way and the Jesus truth are congruent, where “kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame.”
Scripture is not about us, either. It is about God. God has revealed God’s self to us in scripture so that we might know and respond to God, understand where we are in God’s creation, what it means to be called into a life of God’s salvation. We do not primarily read scripture in order to develop a better self-image, or to discover the hidden treasures in our lives. Scripture is not about us. Basically, we are listening to God revealing God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.
We do, in fact, find ourselves included. We are addressed, we are invited, we are commanded, we are promised, we are immersed in a world where God rules and saves and blesses—us. But there are no secrets here on how we can rule and save and bless. We are not the subject and we do not supply the action.
So what is the way in regard to scripture? How do we receive this text? Here’s how: by listening and responding and submitting. “Let it be to me according to your word” is the way I read this text. Our reading of this text is a personal listening to a personal God. We listen to God speak our lives into being. We listen to the story that provides a narrative shape and meaning to a life of following Jesus in the conditions of the world. It is a prayerful, relational, obedient listening. But that’s not the American way of reading. Too many of us read only for information, for know-how, to better ourselves, to prepare for a job, for a profession. When we need a break from that, we read for diversion, for entertainment.
American spirituality has an indiscriminating love of technology. We like getting things done, no matter how. Use the fastest and most efficient means at hand, but get it done. Fastest and most efficient almost always means impersonal. People ask questions, act stubborn, make mistakes and get in the way—so bypass the personal. Under the influence of technology, we have acquired the habit of reading the scriptures technologically, scripture depersonalized into information used to get things done more quickly.
But we don’t get a say in how God runs this world, this grand creation, this globe-circling salvation, this heart-stopping beauty. We don’t get a vote in the work that’s set for us each day, the work of witness, compassion and justice—healing the sick, working for peace, welcoming a stranger, having babies, burying the dead.
And we don’t get a say in how we do it. Our scriptures train us in this how; skill and attentiveness are required in order to read scripture the way it is written, which is personal and submissive. This entire area of ways and means requires far more attention and practice than we are used to giving it. How we say and do whatever it is we are saying or doing is on par with what God does and the work we do at his command.
Until we care as much about and are as careful with the means as we are the ends, virtually anything we do makes matters worse. Spiritual theology is primarily about means. Life is contemplative when the means become congruent with the ends.
So here it is again, doing the right thing (reading scripture) but doing it in the wrong way (reading it impersonally for information or for principles that I can use to get ahead). Using impersonal ways and means will never bring about any congruence between the text and our lives and, of course, nothing remotely contemplative.
The contemplative life, growing toward congruence, is slow work. It cannot be hurried. It is also urgent work and cannot be put off. Life is deteriorating around us at a rapid pace, and the life at the center, the gospel life—with the elements of congregation and scripture as major pieces—is being compromised, distorted, degraded at an alarming rate. In the American way, slow and urgent are not compatible. They cancel one another out.
But in the Christian way, they are joined together. Urgent as this is, there is no hurry. Impatience cancels out contemplation. Patience is prerequisite. Formation of spirit, cultivation of soul, developing a contemplative life, realizing congruence between the way and truth—all this is slow, slow work requiring endless patience. Human life is endlessly complex, intricate and serious. There are no shortcuts to becoming the persons we’re created to be. We can’t pump contemplation on steroids.
Unfortunately, patience is not held in high regard in American society. We get faster and faster and we become less and less; our speed diminishes us.
Talking at length about the contemplative life under American conditions seems just absurd. It seems such a fragile way of life in this culture of massive technology, arrogant leadership, pushing and shoving, insatiable consumerism. Contemplation? Kingfishers and dragonflies? Stones . . . tumbled over roundy wells? It’s so inefficient, so ineffective. Yet Jesus tells us to do it this way.