• On not giving up social media

    Like Mother Ruth, I was pondering yesterday a number of people who have decided to give up social media for Lent. It strikes me as a very odd thing to do.

    On the one hand, I suppose I can see that sometimes religious people feel the need to withdraw from the world for a time and simply be in a different place with less distraction. That is the essence of going on retreat. However, I can only conclude that those who are giving up social media for Lent use it for different reasons than I do. For me, Facebook and Twitter and blogging (and email, come to that, for email is social media) are ways of connecting and communicating with others. On Facebook I hear about things I want to hear about – other people’s passions, other people’s loves, other people’s lives. But they are not simply the Other, out there. Those people are part of my life too. Social media adds layers to life that I think are good, not bad and that makes me puzzled by people wanting to give that up.

    I could understand someone saying that they are going to give up being bad-tempered on twitter or give up posting photographs of other people’s kittens on Facebook. Both of those seem commendable. Giving up social media entirely seems like giving up speech for 40 days in order to conquer bad temper – a strategy that one suspects might well backfire.

    Here’s a few things that were part of my day on social media yesterday:

    • Being fascinated by the reports of people in the USA that I know going out into the streets with their ash yesterday to offer “Ashes To Go” to anyone.
    • Learning with delight, on the sly, that the choir had been talking about the subject of my Ash Wednesday sermonette (“How would you live today if tomorrow was your last?”) whilst in the pub after the Ash Wednesday service, where presumably they had gone for a sip of water.
    • Making a connection with the Dean of another cathedral that I’ve not been in touch with for four or five years.
    • Sharing a joke with a couple of people scattered in parts of the Scottish Episcopal Church that I think are remote (and which they probably think are Pisky Central).
    • Sharing a few pictures of beautiful things I’ve spotted over the last couple of days.
    • Making contact with a member of St Mary’s of a few years ago who was saying she missed Lent here and asking her what it was she missed – her answer, “Beauty from Chaos”.

    Why would I want to deprive myself of any of those things? What spiritual discipline says that to miss out on any of that that is good?

    My life is richer for social media. It is also diminished by those who step away from it, (yes, from me) for Lent.

    I’m puzzled by this devotion and believe it, not social media, to be a temptation.

3 responses to “Thuribles of the week”

  1. Stewart Avatar

    The comments by JN1034 are very interesting especially considering the practice I observed in Hong Kong – see http://bonnyton.fotopic.net/p39681149.html

  2. JN1034 Avatar

    V Rev Kelvin Holdsworth, dear sibling in Christ: Thank you for bestowing upon us your esteemed Theological Thurible Award, albeit we’re far from worthy. Though we’re overcome by surprise of your kindness and gratitude, we hope that which we caused you to ponder are good things, all to the glory of the Triune One and of God’s gods. Considering that censing is a multi-millennia-old religious convention, we’ve a deep appreciation of thuribles in our shared traditions, and for their practical mystical expressions in the daily lives of the faithful. Censing marks our homes and families, our weeks and years, our lives and hearts, our Church and God. Censing is a constant element of our histories imprinting a sensual memory of the life of the whole incarnate Church, both at home and in our parishes. When we smell it in our local parishes, our olfactory senses read the aroma as homemade; everything connects; nothing in our world seems detached from God and from us; we transcend spacetime and the universe is one at that fragrant ephemeral instant. And if we smell incense in another’s home, or at a different parish, it all comes together as an unified moment, and we are home wherever we are. We pray God continues to bless you with grace and mercy as you lead your community at St Mary’s Cathedral. Remember us in your prayers. Yours in the shared service of Christ our Lord, JN1034+++

  3. Kirstin Avatar

    Angels and thuribles, that reminds me, I have a rescue to plan. I wonder if my daughter left any camouflage paint!

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