Community

One of my hobbies is playing niche market board games, and I'm a semi-frequent contributor to the largest website serving the hobby. This particular site prides itself on being not just a database, but a community of users, and while I've certainly been flamed there before, the overall tone of posts is among the most civil and intellectual I've found on the Internet.

I read somewhere on the site that a fellow I "knew" peripherally had abruptly deleted his account and all of his posts, so I went to the thread in which that was being discussed to figure out what had happened. One of the posters wrote a few really interesting replies about how the term "Internet community" is a misnomer. (I think all of those make sense out of context, but I'd encourage you to at least read the first, if not all four.) To sum up, his argument was that community requires physical presence, and is concerned about the person as a human being. The Internet obviously precludes physical presence, and by its nature is primarily concerned about a person's contributions rather than their personality. Therefore, you can't have a real community on the Internet.

This really caused me to stop and think about the time I spend online. I've definitely resisted allowing time spent communicating via machines to replace time spent building more quality relationships. This is why I don't use Twitter, don't have a smart phone, quit Facebook for a time and even resisted text messaging before finally giving in. Still, earlier tonight I had a text message conversation with an old friend I haven't seen in a year or so, and she thought I was someone else until the last few messages. A depressing statement on our society, and one that left me asking myself: why didn't I just call her?

What's worse, though, is realizing that actual community is eroding even with personal (and in-person) relationships. We live in the suburbs, and while we talk with our neighbors somewhat regularly, I wouldn't say we know them well. They told us that some of the older residents of the neighborhood had told them the reason they moved to the suburbs originally was so that they wouldn't have to get to know their neighbors like people do in the city (though they've relented on that position a bit).

Worse than that is at church. I was talking about evangelizing with Liana recently, and about how most Christians' idea of that is to invite friends to church or a church function. Besides that I think it's sad that we can't live our lives in the world in a way that demonstrates Christ's love for us, I don't think the non-Christians are really gaining anything by sitting in the pews. Liana pointed out that the argument typically is to give them the chance to join the community. I replied that I was a Christian because I believe in Christ, and that if I was interested solely in community, there's absolutely no way I would continue going to church.

This is something I've thought for years, but I didn't realize how damning a comment on our churches that is until I said it out loud. The model of the early Church in Acts is one I've always found to be beautiful and one that we should strive to replicate, if not in letter, at least in spirit. What I've found is...well, not even close. I'm not claiming to be above the problem; I certainly don't have any close friends at the church we've now attended for 3 years. But it doesn't change that it's not really a community there (even though, ironically, we're in the process of merging with two other local churches, so we actually have "community" in our name at the moment). I think if we stopped going, some people would miss seeing our son, or my drumming, and I think the committees we sit on would miss our contributions. That's probably about it, and that sounds an awful lot like what would happen if we left a web site. I would be surprised if anyone tried to keep in touch with us - and, likewise, I can't think of anyone who I'd try to keep in touch with on a regular basis if they moved away.

So have we just lost the ability to form deep friendships as a society? Or was I just extraordinarily blessed when I was younger to have some people to connect deeply with, and I'm just expecting too much out of myself and others now?

Edit: And I just noticed the irony that I'm blogging about this.