The basis of community is sacrifice. It must be. If it is all about me and only what I want, then I am alone. In any coming together, giving up some personal desires or preferences must inevitably happen.
For in choosing to gather, we are choosing a time and place. I forsake any other places I could be at that time. I give time that I could have been doing something else. More than that, I am choosing to be with people who may irritate me, or play music I don’t like, or say things I wish they hadn’t. In short, they are not me, and so I’ve got to put up with them.
In doing this, we make space for all of the benefits of community—of hearing about that movie that you’d also like to see, of learning of a new recipe you’d like to try, being amazed to hear the personal story of a friend who inspires you to be more like them. You receive encouragement to keep pursuing the highest good, as best as you can see it— And these people help you see it better. You receive real help when you need it.
The cross is at the center of the church community, and in putting it there we worship this ideal leader, who gave up everything in order to gather his people.
In my short lifetime, I have seen how we are drifting further away from this beloved community. Church attendance is down, loneliness is up. Anxiety and depression have never been higher. During the COVID era lockdowns, we experienced what the utter loss of community feels like. Friendships were broken, churches disbanded, people moved, families were tested. Some came out stronger, and some of us are still recovering.
Years before that I began to suspect that media is stealing us from each other. It’s when we spend more time on Facebook or X than socializing with real people. It’s when we’d rather watch Netflix or YouTube than call an old friend. It’s when we’d rather watch a movie that makes us feel compassion, than to feel actual compassion for our neighbor in need. When we believe the lie, we use screens for a stimulating and pointless tickling of the mind.
It’s more than our individual responsibility. This is a collective action problem. It’s when we don’t call that friend because we believe that they would rather be watching their own show, so we may as well be watching ours. It’s when you would prefer the benefits of meeting in person, but the meeting is only virtual. It’s when teens feel pressure to join social media, because everybody else is doing it. It’s when there’s nobody to play with or hang out with, because everybody else is on their own screen, doing their own thing. Last year, our family decided to rebel against this. We gave up “alone screen time” for Lent. If we were on screens, we would only do it together.
Technology allows us to bypass those near us to connect to those afar. Before screens, the automobile allowed us to do this in the physical world. We could use the new cars and highways to move to the suburbs where we have a garage, nice neighbors and no city problems. We don’t often count the social cost of car culture because it is so pervasive. The cost and effects of parking on the built environment, social isolation, declines in public health, and daily deaths from car crashes are costs we don’t often think that we all have incurred in adopting the car as a technology.
As Jesus walked by, a man on the side of the road cried out: “Son of David, have mercy on me!” When he had the option to bypass the bad part of town, he chose to walk straight through it and engage the people there.
When we unquestioningly adopt every new technology, terrible things can happen. This year, a remote jungle village got satellite internet for the first time. And now many of them are addicted to pornography and social media, which is an even bigger problem in a culture where if you don’t hunt and farm, you don’t eat. In contrast, each Amish community has leaders who decide to adopt a technology based on if it will positively or negatively impact their community. They are open to it, but they are mindful to keep the health of the community first. Had the jungle village taken this approach, their community unquestionably would be healthier.
For most of human history, being in a family and in a face-to-face community was core to our identity and was a non-negotiable requirement for survival. It is only recently we have been able to negotiate new terms with our human limitations. I hope I have helped you see that with every gain of a new technology, there is also a loss. The deception and the lie is that there is no loss. But we must count the cost. For the benefit of our communities, it is time to re-negotiate our relationship with technology.