Faith Works 1-30-21

Faith Works 1-30-21

Jeff Gill

Notes towards a theology of media consumption
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Where I've been going in recent weeks, in thinking out loud about media consumption and curatorial work and clergy, is in a direction that I intend to be towards the theological.

That's a word which sadly makes many tune out. Ewwww, theology. How many angels can dance on the head of a pin (the answer is three, by the way) or how to justify the ways of God to humanity by way of a twenty-seven point five volume work.

Actually, I hope I've been doing theology these last few weeks, I just didn't say so. To be, theology is just what the word is derived from: talk about, or better yet, talking with God. Theos, or God in Greek, and Logos, which is often translated "Word" but is something a bit more essential and also relational. Dialogue is a "logos" passed back and forth between two people, not so much an argument as a subject we're trying to understand between the two of us ("dio" in Greek for two and dia- is between two, got it?), and so we're having a dialogue about a subject of mutual interest.

Likewise a discussion about things having to do with God, or with God: that's a theology in process, at work. You and I "talk" here about the Divine, and we're doing theology.

Now, as to the theological topic at hand, here's a theological statement I think even my agnostic and even atheist friends would agree with: I'm not God. Nor are you, fair enough? [Much head nodding, I'm sure.]

Okay then. If, whatever your approach to theism, you agree that I am not God, let me take the dialogue a step further: whatever or whomever God is, if I am not God, then among other things I can't know everything. We might stretch our dialogue into more of a group free-for-all as some say "but I don't agree there is a God" and others have various opinions about the nature of the Almighty, but a common reference point is that the Western tradition for a thousand years has said "God is a being beyond which none greater can be imagined." Details to come later, but that's a good starting point.

And I, as well as you, if you don't mind me saying so, necessarily know less than such a being. God knows all, or at least all that is knowable, and we do not.

Folks, this is abstract, but important in application, because the obvious implication is that no matter how late we stay up on the internet, we will never know everything there is to know about aardvarks, anarchists, atoms, let alone the events of recent weeks. We can try to know more, but we will never know all. At which point we have to start making choices. Choices about whom to believe, where we put our trust, how we assemble our partial facts into an actual plan for what to do when we get up tomorrow.

My lack of certainty, of absolute knowledge about aardvarks is unlikely to come up tomorrow, so I let that go entirely. Anarchists? I wonder what they're up to, but if I'm sure none are under the bed I can sleep soundly. Atoms most people don't think about, but they're fascinating, even if you can't trust them. (Why can't you trust them? Because they make up everything.)

Now of course you're thinking "how can I trust anyone who would make a joke like that?" Fair point. And that might be a reason to dismiss me as a partner in dialogue. Hey, I've had people tell me "you're not serious enough." That is one criteria people can use for information: is it a serious and substantive source? A comic book may or may not put accuracy above humor, let alone a weekly columnist.

And for many, the mere fact that I'm both a religious person (guilty) and an ordained minister (guilty as charged) makes my statements on facts or opinions untrustworthy. The interesting thing here is that this is a relatively new state of affairs in our general culture. I hope to say more about in whom we do put our trust next week. 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's made worse jokes, believe it or not. Tell him your favorite "Dad joke" at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.