MONASTIC MESSAGING

Well it lasted until 6:30pm. There’ll always be someone who breaks the silence.

I wonder if monks have the same trouble. Unbroken reverence for hours, and then a brother accidentally stubs a toe, or just forgets and blurts out the football scores? Seems unlikely.

But that’s different isn’t it? That’s organised community discipline - something that doesn’t really apply to WhatsApp messages. There’s no Abbot giving homilies about messaging etiquette. There’s no holy book offering guidance on how to use emojis - no, we’re left to figure it out as a group, with a vague belief that mob rule will sort of figure it all out, and we, dutifully, will understand the rules.

Today has seen a return to the trickle-torrent of messages. I’ve sent a few, I’ve read a few, I’ve rolled my eyes at a few. Actually, I think it would have been great if the Bible had talked about emojis - I sometimes wonder whether my reactions to things are quite right. It was only recently that I discovered that the thumbs-up is passive-aggressive to Gen Z and that they use a coffin or skull instead of the laughing-crying face. Perhaps we should all resort to using words instead of hieroglyphics.

Or perhaps we just just use fewer ways to communicate. The monastery manages it - and there’s something very appealing about the simpler, quieter, medieval life.