Thursday March 9, 2023

Something about technology isolates us from each other.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m not arguing against technology. I’m not a Luddite.
Indeed, I’m alive today only because of technologies. Vaccines protected me from childhood epidemics in India. An automobile airbag saved my life in a crash. Stents in my cardiac arteries have given me twelve years of active health.
So I can still go cycling. As I did the other day, when the snow melted. As I was pedalling along a busy street, my front wheel kissed a curb. The bike went one way; I went the other. I bounced off the sidewalk onto someone’s lawn.
It took me several minutes to struggle back onto my feet. In all that time, not one car stopped to see if I was okay. Not one.
If I fall on a cross-country ski trail, other skiers always stop to help. If I stumble over a rock on a hiking trail, other hikers will never step over me and carry on.
And as I wrote last week, dog walkers almost always respond to a greeting, with at least a smile or a nod. Unless they have cocooned themselves inside their noise-cancelling earphones, captives of their own technology.

Inevitable progression
At a workshop on technology, the theme speaker argued that every technological advance takes a skill once limited to a minority and makes it available to the masses.
Stone masonry, for example. In medieval times, masons who could carve blocks of stone for the great cathedrals of Europe had free passage from country to country. They became “free masons.”
Pneumatic drills and jackhammers transferred their skills to common labourers. Today, freemasons exist only in secret societies.
As this was a publishing workshop, the speaker offered publishing examples. Typesetting was a skilled art; now anyone with a Macintosh can do it. Not always well, but typesetters didn’t always do it well, either.
Essays were once the purview of academics; now software like ChatGPT will write an essay for you.
Research once involved library stacks. Study carrels. Boxes of handwritten references on file cards.
Now there’s Google. And more information on a screen the size of one of those file cards than Isaac Newton or Thomas Aquinas had.
The question is not whether we should have technology. It’s whether we let ourselves become part of that technology.
I cancelled a credit card I had used for 30 years, because its parent bank set up an automated telephone answering system designed to isolate me from any human employees. Cooperating with it felt like turning myself into a cipher too.
An old fable tells of a beautiful princess who could be rescued only by a man of impeccable character. Honest, kind, gentle, without guile or deceit.
Just such a man set out to rescue her. He fought his way through thickets of crooks, robbers, thieves, and murderers. When he got to the castle, he paused at a pool to wash the blood off his skin and clothes. When he saw his reflection, he turned away and went home.
Because he had become one of them.
As each new technology seduces us, we need to beware that we do not start acting like bits of technology ourselves.
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Copyright © 2023 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.
To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca
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YOUR TURN

There must be a lot of dog-lovers out there. Last week’s column prompted this response from Jim Henderschedt: “Oh yes, Jim.... There isn't a dog I don't stop to talk to -- unless, of course the dog isn't in the mood to be bothered by a dog lover who doesn't have a dog. I sorely miss having a dog, but realize that even small dogs have the ability to topple an old man who's greatest achievement is being able to stand on his own two feet (I guess that's why dogs have four of them). Thank you for your ‘literary puppy fix’ this morning.”

June Tink: “Loved this story, Jim. It made me smile. As an elderly woman going for a short walk with the aid of my walker, I always say ‘Good morning’ (it’s usually a morning) to everyone I pass, often admiring their dog and perhaps asking about the breed. I usually get a friendly response. Some lone walkers ignore my cheery ‘Good morning’ so I mutter quietly, under my breath, ‘or not!’ as I pass by. But others seem pleasantly surprised. “

Penny Kirk: “I talked to more strangers when I owned a dog. Tucker was my Saint Bernard and when we walked, we were stopped and talked to. My Saint lived till he was 12 and weighed 140 pounds. Small children would ask if they could pet him, and if he was friendly. And he was definitely a gentle giant.
“I also did the crossing guard at the school before my regular job and many people would stop and pet Tucker there . So many different stories of people who once had a St. Bernard when they were a child. I just have cats now, but I miss the walks and talks when I used to walk my beautiful Saint.”

Ken Nicholls suggested “there is room for you to expand your comments into a full Cat and Dog Theology. (c.f. the 2 men going up to the Temple to pray!)”
Ken went on to comment on “talking to strangers. I believe my two dogs, Biscuit and Gandhi, are great aids to missionary work.
“Tmkio90here is one group of people who are largely invisible and ignored -- those who work at checkouts in big supermarkets. Fortunately, they now have name badges, and can be given a cheerful comment and word of thanks for their help. This could be the only time in a whole shift when they are treated as real people and not as brain-dead robots.”

Cliff Boldt continued the same theme: “We are noticing that people on the street, the gym, or grocery store seem to be very friendly these days. Especially when our grocery carts bump at a busy intersection in the store. We leave the store feeling better, knowing that a smile was reciprocated.”

Tom Watson: “For me, talking to strangers is a ‘must do.’ It changes my day to say a cheerful ‘Hello’ and to get one back. If they have a dog, I talk to the dog too.”

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Psalm paraphrase

As spring draw nearer, I start thinking about hiking trails I can take. This paraphrase of Psalm 95 invites me to think about the kinds of trails I want to follow.

1 Come and climb up to the top of the rock;
Stand on top, and stretch your arms out to the sky.
2 Reach out to the holiness that wraps its breath around you.
In grateful silence, soak up the shining light of life.
3 God is the rock upon which we live;
4 All the earth is God's:
From ocean abyss to mountain pinnacle,
6 From polar icefield to tropical rain forest,
God lives in every subtle link of life.
6 Bow your head before the wonder of it all;
Feel the strength of the rock rise through your feet.
7 We are not alone;
We are one in God.
Lichens and trees, ants and people--
All are held in the circle of God.

8 Do not isolate yourself from God's creation.
Do not consider your own concerns first.
9 You will cut yourself off from the source of your creation;
You will think of yourself as god.
10 Your struggles will lead you further astray;
You will sink further into a morass of your own making.
11 In your loneliness, you will begin to believe that there is no God;
You will never know the peace that passes understanding.

Update – there are still about 60 copies of my book of psalm paraphrases in stock at Wood Lake Publishing. The book includes paraphrases of most of the psalms in the Revised Common Lectionary. So you can still order a print copy of Everyday Psalms from Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com, or 1-800-663-2775. But, I’m told, there will no further reprints. If you don’t already have a copy of Everyday Psalms, get one while they last.