The Internet and the "Devil's Work" of Abstraction

Today I was reading from a collection of Wendell Berry's essays when I came across two paragraphs that left me both vindicated and convicted. What I read so perfectly applied to everything that I have lately been pondering as our little corner of northwestern Minnesota has seen the harvest ending and Thanksgiving looming. I should say that I felt the hypocrisy in this post from the very start, and so I promise to get to that before this is over. Firstly, however, I give you what I read: Wendell Berry on the characteristics of the failed hero of modern industrialism:

"This would-be heroism is guilty of two evils that are prerequisite to its very identity: hubris and abstraction. The industrial hero supposes that 'mine own mind hath saved me'--and moreover that it may save the world. Implicit in this is the assumption that one's mind is one's own, and that it may choose its own place in the order of things; one usurps divine authority, and thus, in classic style, becomes the author of results that one can neither foresee nor control. And because this mind is understood only as a cause, its primary works are necessarily abstract. We should remind ourselves that materialism in the sense of love of material things is not in itself an evil. As C.S. Lewis pointed out, God too loves material things; He invented them. The Devil's work is abstraction--not the love of material things, but the love of their quantities...It is not the lover of material things but the abstractionist who defends long-term damage for short-term gain, or who calculates the 'acceptability' of industrial damage to ecological or human health, or who counts dead bodies on the battlefield." (from "The Gift of Good Land," 1979)

Wendell Berry (image from Wikipedia)

If you skimmed the quote go back and read it again. Then stop for a minute and think about what he is saying and how in the last thirty-three years abstractionism has penetrated the very fibers of our lives. Many of us who have grown up with the internet as next-to-kin have lived in a world where "The Matrix" is not just a fascinating idea for a movie but part of the genesis of our digital lives. We don't just do Facebook or tweet to the realm of Twitter; we have online identities. We share our lives digitally to such an extent that many of us are more comfortable online than in day-to-day dealings with other human beings. I recognize this in myself from time to time--even if I abhor it.

Let me step back for a minute.

A couple of days ago I heard a comment from an atheist that the worst of all careers is a pastor, who, by definition, does not contribute anything to society. Anybody thinking of attending seminary, he suggested, should instead become a mechanic or a pilot or a nurse or an engineer. Of course, I think this person is wrong... and yet... there is a grain of truth in what he says. Many pastors end up in their own theological worlds and don't actually produce anything. For the last few days, therefore, I have been on my own personal hunt for the good I do on a day-to-day basis.

This morning I was preaching and offering communion at worship services at the nursing home in town when I was finally struck by the absurdity of that person's comment. Here I was offering something that was profoundly necessary for these elderly and enfeebled people--people who didn't care if I had a great sermon or a horrible one, people who didn't mind if I stuttered or spoke with clarity; all that mattered was that I was there. I had left the world of abstraction in my office, and I found myself in a place where presence is the only qualification for good work. My success in the nursing home is purely dependent on how present I am. And lest you think that is hardly a unique vocation, I ask: What is my purpose for visiting the elderly? It is theological and pastoral; it is part and parcel of the call. It is by no means the only things I do with others for the sake of the betterment of the world, but it is perhaps the simplest and most honest. A nurse can be a loving servant to the elderly (and believe me, they are!), but a pastor is still capable of bringing something unique that the nurse cannot--a purpose for their life that is bigger than the walls in which they are confined.

You see, that atheist commentator was right to the extent that it applies to Berry's insight; the Devil's work is abstraction. If my work were only to think thoughts about God then, yes, I would be doing nothing for the common good. If my thoughts weren't borne out in actions then my life would be meaningless. This could be leveled as an critique of academia--and, Lord knows, it has been!--but in truth the best professors are teachers who seek to impart what are often abstract ideas into the day-to-day material lives of their students. They are training their students for a physical world, and in-so-doing entering into it with them.

But now, I fear I must return to the place where I will prove myself a hypocrite. On the internet we are able to share ideas in real-time across wide reaches of the world, but the abstract often stays there. We argue endlessly about ideas; we treat our online world as if it is a product of our own making; we become online gods, smiting those who question our omniscience with a single mouse-click. All the while we find ourselves doing the Devil's work, feeding the insatiable monster of abstraction. This blog post could be just that.

But I hope not.

Instead, I have a different hope, but it will take your help to accomplish. I hope that you go out and do something; that you get off the internet and into the lives of people you love and people you don't yet know that you love. I hope that you treat the internet as a tool in the service of doing rather than a place where you can be. Just as C.S. Lewis reminds us that material things are not, in themselves, bad, so too is the internet a creation capable of being good, but it runs the acute risk of abstracting everything that gives our lives meaning and purpose. Don't let it do it. That is the Devil's work. And it can happen to pastors and students, politicians and business people. Our lives are not our own, so we had better start attending to what we are doing with them.

I'm off to visit our new food shelf. How about you?