I am acquainted with a young woman who, flummoxed at choosing a name for her second baby, paid an Instagram "baby name consultant" $2,000 to weigh in.
How anyone just one generation behind me could do something almost literally incomprehensible to me on about 4 different planes is a mystery I find myself pondering often.
Also, I feel sad. I imagine she produced a whole dossier of information about herself and the baby's father and their interests and hobbies and background to this "consultant" and in that I see a deep loneliness and isolation. A very short time ago we all had friends and family who knew all those things about us and without even realizing it applied that information to advise on our baby names; it was part of the ritual and celebration of pregnancy. Now here we have someone handsomely paying a stranger on the dopamine dispenser, whom the algorithm placed in front of her and pretended is important and trustworthy, for advice on such an intimate and personal and joyous matter. It's heartbreaking, really.
If I understand the 'algebra' undergirding your World article correctly, I agree that your sacramental approach, to paraphrase, "sweeping one's floor, looking into the face of one's spouse, conversing with one's child" as necessary components to a well-lived life, is wiser and more joy-filled than the abstracted 'spiritual' advice of virtual experts and influencers. The sacramental approach draws on cultural wisdom accumulated over centuries and adjusts and applies it to the specifics of one's circumstances, rather than deploying the foolishness of untried (or worse, tried and failed) philosophies undergirding much of the 'wisdom' on offer today.
Great article, Anne! I gave up trying to be an influencer long ago, except (for example) where parental duty required it. I cannot identify with the overpowering urge to tell other people how to live and think. Their name is legion, even in the church. I have people I studiously avoid in coffee hour after church, because I can't bear 20 minutes of their trying to influence me. This is why Jeremiah 31:34 is such a precious promise to me:
"And no longer shall each one teach his neighbor and each his brother ..."
I am acquainted with a young woman who, flummoxed at choosing a name for her second baby, paid an Instagram "baby name consultant" $2,000 to weigh in.
How anyone just one generation behind me could do something almost literally incomprehensible to me on about 4 different planes is a mystery I find myself pondering often.
Also, I feel sad. I imagine she produced a whole dossier of information about herself and the baby's father and their interests and hobbies and background to this "consultant" and in that I see a deep loneliness and isolation. A very short time ago we all had friends and family who knew all those things about us and without even realizing it applied that information to advise on our baby names; it was part of the ritual and celebration of pregnancy. Now here we have someone handsomely paying a stranger on the dopamine dispenser, whom the algorithm placed in front of her and pretended is important and trustworthy, for advice on such an intimate and personal and joyous matter. It's heartbreaking, really.
Wow, that really is sad. (But if you know anyone else who needs baby name advice, tell them I'll do it for $1000!)
If I understand the 'algebra' undergirding your World article correctly, I agree that your sacramental approach, to paraphrase, "sweeping one's floor, looking into the face of one's spouse, conversing with one's child" as necessary components to a well-lived life, is wiser and more joy-filled than the abstracted 'spiritual' advice of virtual experts and influencers. The sacramental approach draws on cultural wisdom accumulated over centuries and adjusts and applies it to the specifics of one's circumstances, rather than deploying the foolishness of untried (or worse, tried and failed) philosophies undergirding much of the 'wisdom' on offer today.
Great article, Anne! I gave up trying to be an influencer long ago, except (for example) where parental duty required it. I cannot identify with the overpowering urge to tell other people how to live and think. Their name is legion, even in the church. I have people I studiously avoid in coffee hour after church, because I can't bear 20 minutes of their trying to influence me. This is why Jeremiah 31:34 is such a precious promise to me:
"And no longer shall each one teach his neighbor and each his brother ..."