• Generation Self

    There’s a fascinating piece in the Guardian this morning about Generation Self – that’s the name being given to those who are around the age of 20 at the moment.

    It seems to some pollsters that as they enquire about the values that people who are that age hold they are being surprised at how much more right wing they seem to be than previous generations.

    It seems to me that there may be something in the analysis. I’m the generation that doesn’t really know his neighbours. Those younger than me seem to be those who really don’t want to know their physical neighbours. I can’t imagine voting for a party who say they want to crack down on welfare spending in order to give me tax cuts but it now seems to be a respectable thing to say and something which seemingly “respectable” people advocate. Activism has become signing an on-line petition rather than joining with other people to get other people to help change the world.

    I remember being shocked at the last election by the number of young gay men I know who said that they were voting Tory and who seemed to think it was obvious that they should do so.

    “But, but, but… Section 28, Mrs T, solidarity!” I cried to no avail.

    If there is something in this Generation Self thing then it needs a lot of thought. Apart from everything else, the views and peccadilloes of the twenty-somethings of every age somehow seem to define who the rest of us are. They set the direction.

    And so, the churches that are going to benefit are going to be the churches which speak right into the experience of those values being lived. Who will succeed? Who will fail.

    All I can see on the horizon is success for those churches which give a clear identity message and doom for those churches which are based on a parish/district model of attracting people simply because they are in the locality.

    I can see a future for confident evangelical churches – probably getting bigger again as they offer something directly to a generation who seem to be in the “What’s in it for me?” mentality. What’s in it for you, sunshine? Oh, eternal life, salvation, big things. All for you. I also think that there is a possibility that such churches will increasingly be promoting social justice issues though probably single-issue things like the environment.

    And I can see a future for confident expression of a more catholic counterculture to the zeitgeist. I can’t see much of a future for conservative catholicism in any denomination. I can see churches providing spaces and places for those who dream of a connected world, a world where neighbourhood is defined by values not locality and a world where the sacramental refreshes through sign and symbol a bunch of people who are pretty much out of sorts with the prevailing winds of opinion.

    “Come to us because we are here in your neighbourhood” just isn’t going to cut it.

    Heaven knows, it hasn’t been cutting it (with the possible exception of a few very leafy locales) for quite a while.

    if you are not one of them, what do you make of Generation Self? Do you like them? Do they care? What can be done to open the possibility of church as a life enhancing opportunity to them?

    If you are a twenty-something, does the description Generation Self feel right?

9 responses to “The Lament Question”

  1. kimberly Avatar

    ask it in the singular, and the answer is: because you’re a four.

    you’ll have me playing the funeral ikos next.

  2. kimberly Avatar

    the other answer is about possibility being revealed in limits.

  3. kelvin Avatar

    Its not just me though, and not just fours.

  4. Aaron Orear Avatar

    I think because sorrow touches the core of the human condition – we are mortal but can perceive immortality. “He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” (Eccl. 3:11)

  5. Erp Avatar
    Erp

    I understand Aristotle talks about catharsis and various philosophers have followed up on that idea.

    Perhaps it arouses sadness both from the art itself but also from our own sources festering within and allows us to let go. We feel better for the letting go, the lessening of our own internal sadness, and so perceive the art as beautiful.

  6. RosemaryHannah Avatar
    RosemaryHannah

    Kimberly was there before me. However, even I, a nine, can sometimes see the beauty in sad things. For me they do two things (may be more but two are most obvious). The first is the catharsis thing. The second is to make me less lonely. Look, here am I weeping, but all around me people sit in the same sorrow. It is not just my sorrow – I am not alone.

    I have long thought there is another answer, one I do not properly understand but I have (I think – and who am I to think it). Deep in God there is a huge well of sorrow. Unless we experience sorrow we cannot understand God. When we sorrow we tap into that well, and become closer to him.

    And being a nice cheerful nine, I will now add that I live in hope that having sorrowed with him, we will share also and even more fully in the joy which swallows the sorrow. Delete this last paragraph from your mind on reading, it will only spoil the joy of the sorrow.

  7. Elizabeth Avatar
    Elizabeth

    Edgar Allan Poe said the most beautiful thing in the world is a beautiful, dead woman. Nice, eh?

  8. Ritualist Robert Avatar
    Ritualist Robert

    Surely it’s because the concept of beauty is independent from concepts such as ‘sadness’ and ‘happiness’ – just as a G major chord might be loud or soft, but that volume has no effect on its G major-ness.

  9. Steve Avatar
    Steve

    I remember Augustine saying (don’t ask me where) that for a picture to be beautiful it requires dark colours as well as bright.

    There is also a hint of an answer in this poem by Edwin Muir:

    Yet still from Eden springs the root
    As clean as on the starting day.
    Time takes the foliage and the fruit
    And burns the archetypal leaf
    To shapes of terror and of grief
    Scattered along the winter way.
    But famished field and blackened tree
    Bear flowers in Eden never known.

    Blossoms of grief and charity
    Bloom in these darkened fields alone.
    What had Eden ever to say
    Of hope and faith and pity and love
    Until was buried all its day
    And memory found its treasure trove?
    Strange blessings never in Paradise
    Fall from these beclouded skies.

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