Text: 1 Corinthians 12:12-31; Hebrews 10:23-25

(Video available on revsmilez.com)

The church father Tertullian asked a lingering question, “What does Athens have to do with Jerusalem? Or the Academy with the Church?” Meaning, what is the connection between Christianity and philosophy? Is there a connection at all? Should there be? Today, the question might be, “What does Jerusalem have to do with Silicon Valley?”

When I was a kid, I watched the Jetsons. It rocked. Robot maids, your own personal spaceship which transformed into a briefcase, and turkey dinners at the push of a button. I dreamed about the future. Talking via video phone to my buddy on Mars; telling my car, “Home, James!” and then reading my holographic comic book in the backseat while the car flew me there; or hopping the Mach 9 train to London for lunch and a spot of tea. But the future arrived without my dreams on board. We never walked on Mars. My car still drives with four wheels firmly planted, turkey still takes all day to cook, and I still have to clean my own house. Instead of flying cars, we’ve got the Internet.

The Internet brought us into a digital age, full of information and unprecedented connectivity. At least, that’s what the ads say. We can google weather patterns in Mongolia in as much time as it takes to check the clouds over Wauwatosa. We can get news delivered instantly to our phones. We can send cute pictures to grandma down in Florida. The Internet is amazing! But there is another reality behind the hype.

The net has two inherent flaws: information overload, and information equality. But information overload isn’t the real problem. As David Allen says, “If information overload were the problem, the first time you walked into a library your head would explode.” The problem isn’t info; it’s meaning. Each bit of information lays some claim on us, on our attention, pulling us in a hundred different directions. Why? Because all the information is equal.

In the age of newspapers and television, you could at least hold someone accountable when they spread useless, false, or harmful ideas. Now the bigots, racists, terrorists, and nutjobs get their own websites. There is no such thing as a “fringe” opinion anymore, because anyone can find a compatriot on the net willing to champion their cause. Did you know there are now online communities dedicated to helping girls stay anorexic? It’s call “Pro Ana” as in pro-anorexia. They share tips on how to avoid raising suspicion, how to evade your parent’s intrusive attempts to make sure you don’t starve yourself to death. They encourage each other and share pictures of thin girls. They call it thinspiration. Welcome to the net. All the pain and brokenness of the world, in every shade and style, can now be served up 24/7 in the privacy of your own home.

The Internet is a land of illusion. You never really know who is on the other side. No one has names, only handles, nicknames that can be changed or discarded at will. The results are predictable: rude, crude, and lewd. Even the so-called anonymity of the net is an illusion, when every site you visit is being recorded by your Internet service provider. Counterintuitively, the net leaves some of us feeling more disconnected than ever before. Kids flunk out because they’re too busy playing video games, marriages fail thanks to online pornography or gambling addictions. People are plugged into their computers but distant from their families. Friends fight over the misunderstood intention of a text message, when a simple face to face would have solved the problem.

At first, it looked like the net was just a toy for geeks and professors. Then some brilliant miscreant reinvented the world’s oldest profession, simultaneously launching e-commerce, the dot com bubble, and the world’s largest collection of pornography. When I talk technology with adults today, the most common feeling they share is fear. We are afraid someone is going to steal our identity, or stalk our children. We’re afraid the violent exploitation that passes for “adult entertainment” will warp their self-image. We’re afraid the minds of the next generation will be so numbed by video games that they won’t be prepared to lead our country. We’re afraid their moral compass will be so broken they won’t care for us when we’re old. We’re afraid that someone we love will be the next to appear on the endless parade of brokenness we call the evening news.

But are these problems exclusive to the digital realm? Don’t these same fears exist in our face-to-face relationships? We hide our true selves from each other, even at church, especially at church. How many people really know you? How many people do you trust enough to let your guard down? We wear the masks of polite society. Addictions –to alcohol, or drugs, or whatever– have always hidden behind closed doors. Child abuse is not an Internet phenomenon. All these things that we fear about the net: addiction, abuse, theft, bullying, con-games, these are not new problems. The Internet is simply magnifying and making more visible what was already there.

The promises of the future are not ALL empty and the results of technology are not all bad. Despite the very real hazards of the internet, there are also very real opportunities. Your kids and grandkids really do have friends from other countries; not “penpals,” but actual friends that they have relationships with–share life with–on a daily basis. They can become members of communities with similar ideals from all across the globe. That exposure to people outside their physical world means this upcoming generation really is more open-minded and less prejudiced than those that came before.

We denigrate exclusively digital relationships. But perhaps in the safe-shelter of cyber space, the soul can emerge in a way that is difficult in the “real” world. Parker Palmer, in his book entitled A Hidden Wholeness (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2004), writes of the need for space in our lives to be open to others – to bare our souls. In our communities we can readily see people’s intellect, their emotions, and certainly their egos! But rarely do we connect to someone’s soul. Palmer says the soul is shy. It does not surface amongst the noise of ego or the intimidation of the intellect. Only in a “circle of trust” does the soul come out to play. Such a circle is not common in the world, or even in our churches, but on the Internet, where one has the shield of a virtual identity free of reprisals, it is easier to share the things we would keep hidden.

Perhaps this cyber-world – despite its potential evils and lurking dangers – really has something to offer. A place to connect without the “language games or interpersonal dances” we engage in as human beings. Perhaps our image of “the net” is not one which entangles and ensnares, but one which binds up wounds and heals the broken hearted.

You’d be amazed how many people helped write this sermon: an old friend of mine from high school, professors from undergrad and graduate schools, fellow congregational ministers, lay people and ministers from the Emerging Church conversation, skateboarders from Tosa Skateboarders United, athiests, agnostics, and Hindus from my favorite gamer community. One of them asked me to share this story with you. He says:

“I was raised as a Christian, and I believed for most of my life. I think the worst thing for my beliefs was going to a Christian middle school - The way many of those people acted while calling themselves ‘Christian’ and going to a ‘Christian’ school was just something I couldn’t stand. Granted, it was better than going to public school, but it wasn’t good for my beliefs. I started doubting then; It really kicked me when I went into 9th grade in a public school. There were so many people who claimed they were Christian and acted horrible - And there were so many people who were not that acted so much better. I never stopped believing there was a ‘God’ or perhaps ‘gods’ - It didn’t make sense to me otherwise - but I did stop believing in the Bible. Later, I found Rob through a game called ‘Allegiance’ - I didn’t talk to him for quite a while, as I didn’t want to talk to someone as religious as him while I was not. Then he started his blog - That is what brought me back. A person that can be in a game based on war, and be familiar with computers, and still be a pastor was something I’d never expect. I started reading his blog, and the subject of this thing, the ‘Open Source Sermon,’ came up. I was interested, and offered an topic (Aliens, because the Vatican had recently acknowledged that they could exist), although I still didn’t consider myself ‘Christian.’ Now that there is work on it, and just with talking to him, I’ve now returned to considering myself ‘Christian’ - Although my views might get some people in a stir, with some differences in interpretations from what is considered the norm. It’s weird, though, that I am a Christian because of a video game.”

What does all this have to do with the church? Kevin Kelly coined the word “generatives” to talk about those things that are “better than free,” things that hold their value in a digital world because they can never be copied and transmitted over a network, things like: immediacy, authenticity, and embodiment. Those generatives might be rare commodities on the net, but churches, at their best, have always been generative communities. The immediacy of a live sermon and music sung by a trained choir, the authenticity of friendships built over years, even the simple embodiment of dragging yourself out of bed and going to the meeting house, to listen and to learn. These things can never be digitized.

Local congregations are local for a reason. They connect specific groups of people in a specific place at a specific time. Online relationships offer a chance to explore ideas and connect with people across the globe. But we need both! Recent history has shown us that people are moving towards a more global community, and the Internet is certainly paving the way. We need exposure to a global perspective to be aware of the changing world around us. We also need a touchstone to ground us in our community lest we lose sight of the people around us. The digital can be great for addressing global issues, but it’s people that need the real help. People with names and faces. What good are all those digital words, if we don’t actually help someone? What good is the Internet without the church?

Paul speaks of the church in 1 Corinthians. He uses an analogy of the human body–we, as Christ’s followers, make up the whole body of Christ. There are 206 bones in the body of a mature adult, somewhere between 656 and 850 muscles–depending on which expert you ask. Think about all of the parts–connected through the nervous system and the circulatory system; parts that “communicate” with each other and the brain. The body must communicate in order to function. Strokes, Alzheimer’s, and paralyzation are all so debilitating specifically because they disrupt communication. Not all of the parts “see” each other face-to-face. An eye will never have direct contact with a pancreas, but if the pancreas stops functioning the eye can lose its ability to see. Indeed, as Paul says–if one part suffers the rest suffers along with it; if one part is honored, the whole rejoices.

Paul was not thinking of the Internet when he wrote this letter. However, by writing this letter he was using the best technology of his day to communicate with the body of Christ in Corinth. We do the same today. Missionaries in far away lands send prayer requests and celebrations to home congregations and inspire that part of the body of Christ to keep moving and supporting mission work. Youth ministers continue to counsel with those placed under their care, even when they leave for college, even when they leave for Iraq. These tools are an opportunity to reclaim the fellowship that once defined us as people.

The Christians of Acts 2 were in each other’s lives. They did not just see each other one day of the week for a couple of hours. Church was often an all day event. Meals were shared. Throughout the week people saw each other, worked together, played together. Look around you this morning. Ask yourself, “How often do I see these people during the week? Do I know them? Or are we just aquaintances sharing a pew?”

Facebook and Twitter are two online services that let you share tiny little updates on your life. One of the ministers who helped write this sermon uses Facebook to keep up with several of his congregation. He says, “It’s great to see the status messages – to know what is going on with folks day by day so that I can ’suffer or rejoice’ with them – so that they can be prayed for.” Likewise his updates help them feel connected to their minister in a new way. These are real status updates from his Facebook page “just hanging out with my spouse for the day;” “feeling kind of squishy;” “glad the hard part of the day is over;” “reading Martin Buber;” “watching the Coco channel on TV while spinning yarn and really should go to bed”.

These updates, mundane as they seem, give real insight. They provide a bird’s eye view into someone’s life, a gestalt of all the things they’d never waste your time to mention face to face. Would you pick up the phone and call 125 friends to let them know that you’re sitting in church right now? But this moment is part of who you are, a reflection of your soul. Palmer says, “Community does not necessarily mean living face-to-face with others; rather it means never losing the awareness that we are connected to each other. It is not about the presence of other people – it is about being fully open to the reality of relationship, whether or not we are alone” (Wholeness, 2004:55).

All the things we take for granted, a meeting hall, a hymnal, an organ, all of these were once innovations. Our pilgrim ancestors would never have allowed a “devil’s box of whistles” in their house of worship, yet for some of us the most spiritually intense moments of our lives are associated with the swell of an organ and congregational song.

But what about the non-techies? There are some people in this room that wouldn’t know a blog if it came up and bit them, and there is nothing wrong with that. Can we state that clearly and for the record? If you’re not interested in developing an entirely new skillset just so you can send someone an email, that is ok. But there’s another story that doesn’t get much screen time. Some people want desperately to join the online community, but they don’t have that choice. That choice is made for them. How do we connect with the digitally marginalized? That kind of problem was tailor made for the church because it means helping individuals who have names and faces. It means learning their stories, and teaching them new ones. It means understanding their context, all the social and economic webs that are contributing to their problems, and helping them change that context by first changing themselves.

That’s the work of a lifetime, and you cannot do it sitting in a pew. Sitting here and waiting for people to show up may have worked 50 years ago; it will not work now. We are no longer the standing church. The upwardly mobile no longer come here looking to rub elbows with Wauwatosa’s upper crust. And thank God. Because I’ve been here a little over two years now, and when I look out into the pews today, I don’t see a bunch of country club church goers, hoping to fit in. I see passionate people who are here because they want to be; not because it’s socially acceptable, but because they’ve experienced something they want desperately to share, especially with their children and their grandchildren. But not stopping there, just starting there.

So what’s the first step? Our text from Hebrews says to hold tightly to our hope. Our hope in God, through Jesus Christ. And to act and speak in ways to build up and affirm others. And to keep meeting together. To go where the people are. If they’re on the net, get online. If they’re in the pub, have a drink. If they’re in the gutter, then don’t you dare walk by on the other side. No matter what we do or how we do it; whether we talk to someone, looking them in the eye over a cup of coffee, or sign into a voicechat server that connects London to California, we all have one great ability: to reflect the light that is God’s love all throughout this beautiful, broken world. Christ did not sit up in heaven and wait for us to arrive. He stepped outside himself and became one of us. Go and do likewise.

Contributors:
Mark Baird
Kevin Brink
Rev. Robert Brink
Martine Haglund
Jason Hanson
Rev. Rick Hartley
Arun Krishnan
Ruhama Kordatzky Bahr
Jason LeClare
Rev. Randy Lubbers
Rev. Sarah McQueen
Mario Morales
Ryan Morgan
Mary Pruitt Martinez
Jordan Propst
Stephen Quadro
Ellen Restyanszki
Dave Settle
Leslie Shultz
Carol Taylor
Christy Tucker
Rev. Jeremy Wood