As part of my isolation, I decided last week to go back on to ficklebook. Gareth phoned me up to check if I was alright.
"You know things are weird," I said, "If I'm back on that site."
Well. Things are weird. And I am (temporarily) back. I figured I needed as much opportunity to connect with people as possible, and it so happens that most people are gathered around the Zuckerberg campfire, so there I am suddenly, face-flickering on the edge of the circle.
I'm not getting involved. I'm only commenting on our church's page, and accepting the odd friend request from people who suddenly can't work out how we're not friends after all this time. Yes.
What I've noticed though, is that that old fire is hotter and fiercer than I think it used to be. I might be wrong - six years is a long time to have forgotten what people are like. Plus, I seem to have rejoined at a time when the world is collapsing. What results is a timeline of political fury, mockery of world leaders, people trying to find new angles to be funny, and a smattering of hopeful, inspiring memes, videos, and reposts. It's a mixed bag at best.
I felt an old feeling of restraint I've not felt for a while. Someone shared an article about a prominent evangelist who was arrested for holding church during the lockdown in Florida. Tempers flared in the comments - on both sides, but weirdly, Christians were personally attacking each other because they disagreed. That chilled me a bit.
Then, someone posted about a televangelist commanding the 'demon virus' to leave the USA alone, while simultaneously being rich enough to do more than just loudly prophesy about it in a shiny suit. Out came the hotheads round the fire again - believers with furious opinions, lighting their torches and stomping their pitchforks.
Also, there are the people who won't applaud the NHS because of something they believe... politicians... have done? I'm left bemused by this kind of ranting anger. Isn't that a bit like boycotting your child's assembly because the teachers aren't very good?
Again, Christians I know were using the foulest language (and I know, I heard Gareth say it was happening a while ago, but it was still a shock) to rail against the system, and (whether we like it or not) our elected leaders!
I felt the pain of that too. It made me cry a little bit.
If you are one of those people by the way, this isn't me attacking you or your views: this is me observing something surprising, and possibly me being a bit simple about it. If you want to talk to me about why you're so angry, or why you won't applaud the people who are trying to save our lives, I hope you know that you can. I think I'm an okay listener. If you swear at me though, I might point that out.
Above all though, there seems to be an overwhelming torrent of noise. And that's what I can't really cope with. It's a stream of detritus, powering down the page, begging and babbling for my likes and attention, my allegiance and my love. Even the algorithm that controls it is specifically trying to get me to jump in and swim. It's loud and obnoxious and sweet and terrifying. And it's very noisy.
But I'm not going to jump in. As I say, I'm going to stick to being encouraging on the church pages we have, in an attempt to feel part of a thing we can't be present in right now. I might record some music and put it up there, I might very sparingly do some other creative things. One of the reasons I like Jesus is that when he had the biggest opportunity to speak, he said absolutely nothing. Instead He chose the cross; he showed the value of silence before Father in the middle of a world of noise.
Unlike that evangelist and that pastor in America then, I think we can do more than just pray loudly and hold illegal services - in fact, I'm sure of it. I'm certain that in the quiet and still moments, grace in action through faith and love, will do a lot more.
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