o1mnikent

Second Life is a virtual world, where avators live, shop, eat, and buy real estate. This online community began in 2003 and its population has grown to almost 400,000 people. These people aim to live in harmony, too, and promote tolerance. Second Life even has its own currency – Linden dollars – for its transactions, and a booming economy. In fact, you can even buy your own island on Second Life.

Here’s the catch though. Second Life’s real-world users use real currency for their fake life. I heard on Marketplace this afternoon that Reuters has set up a real news bureau to cover Second Life’s fake economy, expanding at 10-15% a quarter. There’s a real, full-time correspondent who covers the fake financial news of a virtual community that real people care about.

We can now find on the internet a simulation so sophisticated that it boasts “real” people, “real” money, “real” entertainment, “real” interaction, and a “real” community.” We have lost touch with reality to the extent that we’re willing to pay for an idealized version of a world that’s more real than the original.

Baudrillard would be proud.

I recently heard that an interesting question was posed to a congregation during the sermon: should the church be focused outward, or inward? The question prompted a variety of responses (I’ve heard). It’s certainly an interesting question. Six or seven years ago, I probably would have said that the church should be pointed outward. Now, however, I’m not so sure. Why? I think a church whose sole, or even primary, focus on the outward loses its identity (ecclesiological identity, that is). In much the same way that if a business were to spend its entire budget on advertising, it would focus more on communicating the product than actually selling it, which is what business exist to do; in other words, businesses don’t exist in order to advertise. (The metaphor breaks down, though. We’re not really selling Jesus, and couching the Gospel in consumerist language is deplorable.)

I’ve been reading Who’s Afraid of Post-Modernism, by Jamie Smith. He points out that worship should, indeed, be inviting and hospitable to so-called “seekers.” But he notes that the church’s more important task is to invite people into “its unique story and language” (78ff). He continues:

“When I travel to France, I hope to be made to feel welcome. However, I don’t expect my French hosts to become Americans in order to make me feel at home. I don’t expect them to start speaking English, ordering pizza, talking about the New York Yankees, and so on. Indeed, if I wanted that, I would have just stayed home! Instead, what I’m looking for is to be welcomed into their unique French culture; that’s why I’ve come to France in the first place. And I know this will take some work on my part.”

He then cites Quinn Fox’s brilliant analogy that compares Starbucks to the church:

“At busy times an orderly (if slow) processional of the faithful crowd toward the counter. An order may be something like “I’d like a grande, non-fat, triple shot, 2 pump peppermint latte with extra whip cream.” The money changer loudly relays the request. And one should not worry if the strangeness of the terms causes a stumble. The temple assistant mediates these early morning “sighs that are too deep for words” by translating them into flawless coffee Italian. The Barista (it even sounds a little like “priest”) who feverishly prepares coffee drinks behind the espresso bar repeats the petition verbatim, as if by uttering the words s/he speaks them into being. At the more relational franchises, the customer’s name will be attached to the order. When the brew is ready, complete in all of its uniqueness, the Barista chants the request once again, just to indicate that the unction is complete.”By the way, there are no printed liturgies–no Italian-English “cheat sheets.” At Starbucks, ordering coffee is baptism by immersion. It’s sink or swim. Oh, sure–there are one or two people per million who walk out without ordering because they can’t take the awkwardness of a menu that isn’t “user friendly.” For the most part no one leaves.”

So should the church be focused outward or inward? That’s a trick question only necessited by an environment that lacks adequate hospitality. Instead of working on hospitality, churches seem to choose to make the language easier, the coffee less interesting, or France more American. That’s easier to do, after all.

Instead, we should all acknowledge that the language is incredibly difficult to speak, even for the people who have been there awhile, and then enfold and embrace each other.