Careless Whisper

There is a theory expressed in some places that claims that the beat of a butterfly's wings in one part of the world can create a hurricane in another. I am no physicist or chaos-theorist, so I opt to acquiesce on this idea, all the while being quite sure in my unqualified heart that it is bunkum!

As I spend more time in this ministry of mine, I encounter more and more people. Every single human creature has a story, and I am willing to bet that they have one thing in common (or else know personally of such a thing close at hand).

I believe that, in the main, the fractures and disputes, wars and conflicts, turmoil and suffering, needless slaughter, lifelong antipathies, deeply set quarrels, career ending, family smashing, sibling dividing, friend destroying phenomena are not the products of great single events. It would be easy to say that all marriages end because of an affair, because of violence, or because of someone else - but I am not sure that is the case. It would be easy to say that siblings fall out for decades because of a Last Will and Testament, of greed or jealousy - but I am not sure that is the case. It would be easy to blame all wars on Archduke Ferdinand-type events, the lit touchpaper, the invasion - but I am not sure that is the case.

I think the cause is altogether more mundane. I think the cause is banal in and of itself. 

Every conflict (with the very rare exception) I have heard about in all the ways I sit and listen to people talk have started not in the seat of a significant event, but in the wake of what can only be termed a 'careless whisper', an ill-thought phrase uttered thoughtlessly, a rebuke that was a fraction too heavy. Equally, I have heard of conflicts that are seated in the glint on an eye, a passing expression, the interpreted inference that wasn't intended. That beat of a butterfly wing, in the moment, seems to cause little damage - but the fracture starts and simply widens with time until a hair-line crack becomes a gap becomes a fissure becomes an aching chasm. 

This is both an alarming conclusion and a reassuring one. Everyone of us has the wings of a butterfly and the power to cause a hurricane. Mostly we would never intend to, but the road to Hell and all that ... Equally, we have the power to prevent wars and disputes that destroy lives, simply by taking a moment more care in an argument, with throwaway comments. We can ignite a smoldering fire in someone with consequences that can never be predicted, or we can quell one (or indeed avoid one). 

As I sit and write this, it occurs to me with some measure of concern the increasing power to build or destroy in the context of social-media. If only people read our words as we intended them to be read!

Beware the Effects of Blogging

There is very little that we do that doesn't have an effect elsewhere. Blogging is, in many ways, the modern manifestation of the theory that would tell you that if a butterfly farts on one side of the planet, a hurricane unfolds on the other.

And so I give you blogging - a present day Lepidoptera emission. 

I have been reflecting on this thing I do, and in particular those things that social media has got me involved with or exposed to. None were predicted; all are good (I think). 

Last week I expressed a thought or two on the possibilities of the technological in God's mission. That little offering has made its way into some very exciting circles, and in the reciprocal ripples that returned to my door, encouraged me to think more deeply in a field that was otherwise closed to my thoughts only weeks ago. 

Through blogging, (in the style that I do it, at any rate), I have attracted attention from some interesting people. If I am honest, half of them are not Christians, largely because I do not write on overtly theological matters to the exclusion of all else. I have developed a particularly welcome and healthy association with people of others faiths and none, and also some people at whose table I am honoured to 'sit' at, whatever their faith position. 

Blogging for me is about having a thought and then flipping it into the pond of the blogosphere without a particular thought as to what or where the ripples will go. That any ripples are seen at all is still a joy and a privilege, and a matter of much thankfulness to me. Even today, my previous blog post has been received positively by organisations that represents the needs and rights of dads. Had I intended that? Not a bit. Other posts have put my into the wider Jewish-Christian debate, a forum I value. I have even discovered that the normal emotions and moods of an ordained male priest are still the same as those of the rest of the world. Yes, I enjoy the peaks in numbers - who would't. But I never fail to be surprised by the warmth that these un-crafted and unplanned words generate, without exception. For that I am truly and humbly grateful.

I wondered about the potential injury to my employment prospects that this blog may have inflicted. In our words, bloggers are open and exposed (if we intend to be or not), and therefore the real 'us' is visible, as distinct from the shiny prepared interview 'us'. I need not have worried, and indeed am astounded by the interest (positive interest thus far) that has been shown to this endeavour in the 'new place'. It tickles me no end, believe me. 

When we start to write, we never presume that anyone will read. At least I didn't. I still see how very old posts are still gathering attention a year or more later, from the most unexpected corners of the world. Blogging is never without effect; not on the world and not on the blogger. The world that this little hobby has opened up for me is a good one, if full of risks, and to you who read this, I thank you for walking with me. 

I will not stop. 

Retrospection and Introspection

Anais Nin once said: "We write to taste life twice; in the moment and in retrospect". I had never thought about blogging in these terms, but now that I have, it feels like a clear statement of the obvious! 

When a sane human sits for the first time behind a computer screen, seeing that it is but a blank box, wondering what on earth to write in that box, they can never begin to predict the effect that those soon-to-be-born words will ever have. After a year and a half, a public minister of religion who blogs is, if I may be direct, a fool if they have no notion of the effect of their words. We write into a world that, for good or ill, takes our words with a certain valency simply because we are vicars, curates, bishops or archdeacons. 

For me, this is a two edged thingy. I look back to see 'me' in my words. Largely, and as I have said before, the words I write are composed mere seconds before I write them down. The idea for a post will never be more than an hour old when it is written (even if published later), so I can only see 'me' in retrospect. I can see when I was having a bad or good week, a tough or easy month, and so on - but only by looking back. I have also learned more about my personal prejudices by reading my own words. I must confess, too, that I actually do enjoy reading my own work. Is that bad?

To assess the effect of our blogs is helpful. When we write posts, we flip little pebbles into the pool of ether in which we and our readers live. To not note where the ripples cast out to is to miss a rare opportunity to note the appetite of the blog-reading world, who are (quite possibly) a representative cross-section of the world we claim to minister to. What I am not about to do is do The Vernacular Curate's Cool Top Ten of My Best Effects - partly because I haven't the time, partly because it isn't important, partly because it is poor blogging in and of itself, and partly because if you were interested, you'd look (and you have the nearest to it in the sidebar to the right of this box)! 

I regularly Google myself as The Vernacular Curate. I do this not to look in a mirror, but to see where my particular ripples have reached - and the results rarely fail to surprise me. If you write a blog and don't do this, I advocate it as a pass time that teaches (sometimes some very hard lessons). In so doing, I have discovered that antisemitism sites have referred to my writing across the world; that I am a regular feature in a recreational website that follows certain blogs (and discusses them in forums I have since discovered); that my post mentioning man-boobs makes me an expert and a cited source; that my appreciation for Lord Jeremy of Clarkson is appreciated elsewhere; that the BBC features my website a few times on its own website (and gives me about a quarter of my traffic now); that I am, apparently, an intellectual liberal; that I have a Wikio ranking; that I am a fixture on a fair selection of health websites; that I have been translated into other languages; that my blog is advertised in places where ladies have their boobs on show; and that for the love of God I am still seeing references after forty-odd Google search pages (when I stopped trawling). This is before any of the kind references made by fellow-bloggers and the ripples that those recommendations cause. Am I glad that my words are in all of those places? No. Did I intend them to be in any of those places? No. 

The overwhelming thing that I have noticed, and of which I am rather proud, is how frequently the words of this daft priest have been published in non-Christian and non-faith websites. I write about just about anything, but as a priest. No apology is ever made for that, or my work, or how I live my life - yet I seem to emerge in the oddest places. To borrow +Alan's notion - with the tens of thousands of hits I have had, it would take me several lifetimes to enter that many people's front-rooms in person, in as many countries. What we priests would give to be able to touch people's life on that scale. And this is only a piffling little venture (as my Wikio raking will tell you). This is where the value of blogging rests - in its effect through the weeks and months (and well-beyond).