Ennui in the Evangelical Blogosphere

Posted by J. Mark Bertrand
on Wednesday, August 09, 2006
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One way to get inspiration for blogging is to peruse other blogs, but instead of drawing energy from the experience, I've recently been pulling down a blanket of malaise. A certain deja vu descends as I read. Haven't I seen this post before? And this one? Only I haven't. The material is new, it's just the cycle that's repeated itself -- and the cycle has gotten a bit tiresome. No doubt I have, too. But if I can exegete nothing else, I'll exegete my boredom. What is it about the blogosphere -- in particular the evangelical blogosphere where I spend so much time -- that's gotten monotonous? Let me see....

All the exciting new flavor-of-the-month theological crushes. Christianity is old. It's been out in the sun a long time and its face is craggy and weathered. There's a beauty in this, but not everyone can see it, which must be why so many people feel the need to tart up the faith with garish makeup and a fashion-forward haircut. I guess they've mistaken the assessment of the Athenians in Acts 17:21 for praise. Trouble is, these refreshments and reinventions of the faith never seem to last. I've called them crushes because that's how they function: adopted with giggling enthusiasm and abandoned just as quickly for the next love. There's something fascinating about the intensity of these crushes, but after a while the cycle generates more malaise than enthusiasm.

The hand-wringing exposes of the new flavor-of-the-month theological crushes. The malaise, of course, is broad enough to encompass not only the puppy love, but also the doomsayers who devote their lives to debunking it. Think of how boring The Da Vinci Code has become, and you soon realize that the only thing more tedious are the coattail-riding warning manuals. Some of us seem to think God gave us hands so we could wring them anxiously. Which leads me to another boring trope....

All the self-appointed watchmen who are alarmed by ... everything. One of the classic movie channels played a Groucho Marx marathon the other day, and I saw Horse Feathers for the first time since college. This is the one where Groucho sings what has become the mantra of the evangelical blogosphere: "Whatever it is, I'm against it!" Now, in a real-live, physical church, the guy who sits on the back pew grumbling about everything is viewed with something like rueful tolerance. But give the misantrophe a website and list him on some blogrings and he becomes a leader of the church. Why are these people given so much creedance? Is it our natural -- or should I say, fallen -- love of controversy? Or does it have something to do with the next boring trend:

Willful ignorance parading around as discernment. Imagine a fellow who's never been to France, who all his life has avoided all things French, and who entertains all sorts of half-baked theories about francophone perfidy. (I know, I know -- that doesn't narrow it down very much.) Now suppose this guy was hired by the administration as an advisor on France. It wouldn't make sense. Good decisions are made from the standpoint of knowledge, not ignorance. And yet, what passes for discernment in the blogosphere is often rooted in avowed ignorance, as if Christians believed that discernment was the art of living a life in which one is never called upon to ... discern. As a result, the community's most condescending naysayers are often esteemed as its most pious members. Cultural criticism coming from people whose only contemplation of culture comes from reading other criticism is tedious indeed, even when it's couched in the rhetoric of faith and common sense.

Of course, as I make these notes, I'm reminded of the fact that these faults aren't limited to evangelicals, or just to the blogoshere. This stuff happens everywhere, and it's enough to make a Quoheleth out of anyone. Wherever I turn, I can't seem to get away from the crushes and the crush-busters, and the hang-wringing ignorance that passes for knowledge. What's worse is that, the more I think about it, the more I find myself tainted by these things -- a devotee to the cult of the new and a debunker alike, a condescending know-it-all declaiming against he knows not what. But I don't want to be. No, there is nothing new under the sun, and by naming these things I do not necessarily escape them. If I can learn to be content with what's old, but not to hate what's new, and if I can learn humility while seeking understanding, then perhaps I might at least avoid becoming boring myself. At worst, I'll be self-consciously boring, which has to be better than being boring without ever realizing it.