Screens are great… but
I well remember one of my first days at St. Michael's Grammar School, where I had a go at being a school chaplain.
My supervisor/friend/mentor handed me my bright shiny, complimentary laptop and explained.
‘This is how we talk to each other.’
At first, I didn’t quite get it. Surely you actually speak face-to-face when you have a conversation. That’s the way it’s done in a parish. You make a time, knock on the door, enjoy a refreshing beverage and listen to each other. It took me a few weeks to understand what he meant. It was quicker, easier and more efficient to simply tap out a quick email, send it off to the other and get a response. All fine and dandy… up to a point. Business can get done that way, and I strongly suspect that is how it is often done. It works well in a school environment at an administrative level, but something is missing, and it is not the daily grist of priestly parish life.
Those who know about such things tell me that most of the information we impart in conversation is not the spoken words but the way we say them and the subtle or not-so-subtle verbal cues. The crossed arms of grumpiness, the open arms of consolation, the laughter to signal uncontrollable joy. The tears of deep sadness, the silence of companionship. You can’t do gentle, tender, convivial quiet on a screen together. It’s simply not the same, and for all that emojis are fun, they just don’t cut it.
While it is true that I do some things on a screen and it works at one level, I give thanks that often my best encounters are at the kitchen table, where little is spoken, and the screen is absent.