About 20 of us were in the church sanctuary making a joyful noise trying to sing together. We had spent the day reflecting on the pros and cons of technology’s relationship to faith-based leadership, worship, and community. Where were we headed? how would we hear the voice of God amidst the noise? How might we help others hear it?
We spoke a lot about how life in community has changed for the better and worse and there was a bit of hand wringing about what might come of all this. What are the hidden costs of welcoming so much technology into our lives? On the whole we were optimistic and just wanted to talk about carefully engaging in technology.
I was proud of us for not being overly nostalgic about the good old days before AI and algorithms, smartphones, and zoom meetings. There was very little of “what might have been” and lots of “how do we do this well, in what ways might we embrace technology for the kingdom of God.” In general, I thought we were optimistic, and open. It’s hard to know what the future holds but we are called to live in faith and hope.
And so we were singing together before heading home.
While we were singing our hearts out there was a drama unfolding outside the window. It must have been the end of the school day and many kids were walking home along St. Laurent Boulevard, a fairly large street in Ottawa. The kids were goofing off, chasing each other, throwing balls, and energetically enjoying one of the first days of true warm spring weather. I thought back to those days in my childhood, and how unlikely the events were that lead me to be a pastor singing along with a bunch of people in a presbyterian church. I could never have predicted this.
The drama started when a child dropped a soccer ball. This happens all the time, of course, but not so often feet from a very busy street. The ball bounced from his too-small hands onto the narrow sidewalk and promptly into the traffic. I stopped singing and simply stared. It was obvious the kid was about to run into the road. I am certain that is what I would have done when I was that small, I am just lucky the streets I roamed were quieter.
An adult must have been nearby, just out of my view, and she had come to the exact same conclusion that I had. I know this because the child stopped, frozen by a command barked with the sort of mom-voice one never ignores, even though she isn’t your mom, she is someone’s mom, and she will be listened to.
I didn’t hear her, I was in a sanctuary full of loudly singing ministers and elders, but I could recognize the impact of her words anyways by his reaction, he was stopped instantly, comically, one foot on the sidewalk the other foot in mid-air. I let out breath.
Sometimes we don’t have to hear everything to know something is being said.
The ball was now rolling down a hill, moving towards the centre concrete divider and picking up steam. I could see the kid, I almost ran outside to help but the distance between us was rather large and I doubted I would be of service. The ball was rolling down a hill and I could see the poor kid was getting worried, what if he could never get the ball back?
Finally, a car was travelling slow enough, and the driver paying attention enough to notice this little drama. They slowed and stopped, they waved, the woman yelled her approval, and cautiously the boy went into the road to get the ball.
Oh, what might have been!
Back on the sidewalk, relieved, and no wiser the kid promptly bounced the ball, he managed the feat three times before he was out of my view. I hope he made it home well.
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