It was a simple test. I failed it. It was so simple that I was celebrating before I even started it. In futebol, this is always a bad idea. Anything can happen in the four extra minutes after stoppage time. A certain victory can be taken away with a beautiful header after a corner kick or an unexpected long-distance shot. But enough with sport metaphors. Self-testing, I call it. I was coming back from the beach with my boys. My cell phone stays with me at all times. As a pastor, I have noble excuses to keep it close. Hospital emergencies, counseling matters, but I digress. I am addicted to that marvelous ringtone. Scientists recently made some comparison to heroine addiction. But I know it’s not that bad. I can stop at any time. Right?
Back to the test. I had a 25 minute ride back home. I even put the cell phone a bit distant from the driver’s seat. Being a good Calvinist I am quite aware of my depravity. Goal: to make it home without touching my cell phone. Test: to wait to answer those life or death calls when I got back to the comfort of my home. Further, to allow those rings to simply disappear into sound heaven. I confess the first five minutes were tough. I tried. I even made it past the first red light. I had two whole minutes alone. The kids were quiet in the back. The sound of silence hurts. Those rings kept coming like Screwtape was trying to get into my brain. I kept assuming that each ring came from the same person asking, nay, begging for help. Then it happened.
I reached back to reach it at another red light, typed my password and quickly checked my e-mail. It only took five seconds. The e-mails were important. I could tell by their titles, but not important enough that they couldn’t wait 20 more minutes, or 20 hours. But the moral of the story is I fell. And great was the fall. a
I am finishing a certification in counseling, which has made me quite reflective these past few months. Reflective enough that I took that lesson in eating the fruit…I mean, checking my cell phone, and made a couple of applications.
The first one that comes to mind is that we live an age where communication has died a thousand deaths. In profoundly Shakespearan ways, it is dying and dying. There is that ring again. I have seen the videos portraying zombie-like teenagers engaged in the art of romacing their cell phones while their future wives are right there physically next to them (though she may possibly be romancing her new Note 4). Can we even talk anymore for five minutes without peeking at our ESPN NEWS app, or for the more sophisticated among us, the New Yok Times app. I am guilty. Mea Culpa. A counselor friend once told me that while he counseled a teenager for $75 an hour this young lady spent a near 45 of the 60 minutes carrying on a “conversation” with her boyfriend via text. She kept assuring the counselor that she was hearing everything he was saying. Doubtful.
It’s a strange age. The world is more engaging than ever, but we can’t engage ourselves consistently for a substantive period of time. Dostoyevsky once said: “Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.” Our world is unhappy beacuse so many have been distracted for so long that they no longer have anything to say. Conversation depends on soul and body. To be present in the body in our culture means to be absent in our soul.
The second application is that if conversation dies in more ways than one we cease to be human. We speak and others speak back. This is how Yahweh God made us. If by giving priority to an inanimate object–sorry SIRI–we trivialize flesh to flesh interaction we are of all people most to be pitied. God forbid.
So, I will test my self again. I will probably fail a few more times. But I will keep trying. I am going to leave that cell phone in the car when I have an appointment. I have silenced my ringtones for virtually all notifications. And if someone complains that I did not answer their phone calls or texts soon enough I will just have to tell them that I am fighting for the survival of communication among homo sapiens. I know they will understand.
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