Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Rubbing elbows with the Real World
We seldom recognize what a blessing we’ve been given in the Virtual World of television until we have to spend an entire day at church and dance recitals rubbing elbows with the Real World. And let me tell you, Real World is full of elbows attached to people who are behaving as such.
Why do people like me opt out of Virtual World church and subject ourselves to the constant vexations of Real World church? V.W. church can be accessed from an armchair via a remote control. It can be paused to use the restroom or get a drink. It’s been cleaned up ahead of time, blooper and baby-fret free.
Real World church pastors refuse to freeze in place when I dash out to use the restroom. Rumbling stomachs to the left of me, cranky babies to the right of me and squeaky shoes all around me would never have to be dealt with in my living room.
Am I crazy? Are we all? Why aren’t we at home in our PJ’s, worshiping with comfort and surround sound and a bowl of Fruit Loops?
After people-saturated Real World Church I head to Real World dance recital. It is chock full of humans who talk too loudly, crawl over my knees when arriving late, and whistle shrilly behind my ears. Dancers miss cues and lights don’t work and curtains get stuck.
None of these occur at Virtual World recitals.
Even though the people dancing on the screen would technically be considered ‘human’, all those annoying people-type characteristics have been deleted.
Even though Virtual World dancers don’t know I exist, everything they do is for my comfort. I pick the best seat from which to watch them. I can make them as loud or quiet or fast or slow or zoomed in or zoomed out as I want. I can pause them mid-air while I go grab a snack (which is absolutely forbidden in the Real World recital) and never miss a plié or a pirouette.
Will we never learn? Will we persist in leaving Virtual World that, although oblivious of us, exists solely for our satisfaction? Will we persist in the dangerous business of walking out our doors to face the elbow-and-baby saturated Real World?
What do we think we are? People?