• 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.

4 responses to “Politics of Pilgrimage”

  1.  Avatar
    Anonymous

    Living in Ireland – at one time not too far from Knock – it always astonished me when driving through the village how those who had just visited the shrine seemed to think that it had made them invincible! They’d wander into the middle of the road and totally ignore the traffic streaming around them!

    A bottle of Knock holy water in the shape of Our Lady sits behind me as I type – next to a similar one from Lourdes and a knitted Orangeman bedecked with a collarette proclaiming him a member of LOL 1, Portadown! The juxtaposition is deliberate! (I wonder if + David has one on his shelves from the "support Drumcree" shop?!)

    Which leads to the question "How do holy water taps work?" – theologically, that is! What is blessed to make it holy? Is it the reservoir (but that is constantly replenished and so eventually, after being diluted for a long time, the water becomes "unholy". Is it the tap itself and the water is sanctified by passing through it?

    Discuss!

  2.  Avatar
    Anonymous

    Holy Water Taps
    Perhaps the water becomes holy when it is applied by the believer to the cat.

  3. Joan Avatar
    Joan

    Holy water and questions about pilgrimage

    Hmmm, yes I can see the dilemma…I guess the female ordaindees (not a word really, apologies for my attack on the English language) are excluded – though would it be possible to construct a small al fresco altar and hold a ceremony of your own?  Pilgrimage places become so because people believe something, not just the ecclesiastical hierarchy, I think?  If we don’t go then it is like saying ‘ok, you have that site of devotion then’.  (Yikes I sound so serious, which I am, but I really do mean my statements to come out as questions…not commands.)

    As to the cat, holy water, and the believer – maybe  all the water is holy and we just think we play a role in making it so?  Alternatively, maybe the cat is the believer and the water is transformed through a great mysterious purr.

  4.  Avatar
    Anonymous

    The Cat in Question
    As for the cat in question, she is not a believer as such. Rather, she thinks that she is the only proper object of veneration.

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