An Invitation to the Table
The search for something better than “online community”
The phrase ‘online community’ seems like an oxymoron, and the hope of it is a myth. Online community is to community what artificial intelligence is to intelligence. Community cannot exist online, nor intelligence in a computer. To suggest otherwise demonstrates a fundamentally flawed understanding of what it means to be human and a problematic exaltation of what is not.
True community is by nature embodied, physical, corporeal. The extent that social media and other online platforms offer us community is that they connect us to establish in-person relationships. Truly, however, their ambition is more often to do the opposite: to make us dependent on their platforms as much as possible and to entrap us in a walled garden of digital delights because this ups their profits. Furthermore, even as these appear to proliferate our in-person connections, really they undermine our presence in actual communities because we are spending more time staring at our phones.
These so-called “services” make every effort to offer us the sensation of being embodied together. They utilize every conceivable technology to create the illusion that its users are present with each other in person or, better yet, that what they have to offer is better than being in person since it is free of the limitations the embodied world entails. But no matter how hard they try, platforms like Meta will never be able to fully replicate the sensation of sitting across the table from someone and so the best “community” these platforms offer will always remain “artificial.” And much like artificial flavors cannot replicate the benefits and tastes of true food, our online communities will never offer us what it is that we are truly after.
I am convinced that this word—“community”—represents one of the most important issues facing my generation (Gen Z). We are isolated, depressed, and anxious. These are symptoms of a dangerous kind spiritual malnourishment; it is rooted in an alienation from God, from each other, and from the land that he created for us. While our society promises that the way forward requires we throw off all limitation and migrate into the digital domain where we can be more connected with others, I believe that true healing actually requires the opposite.
Those familiar with Christian tradition recognize the practice of Communion. The Gospels describe Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, sitting down with his friends around a dinner table. He took bread and broke it for them and took wine and poured it for them. “Take and eat… my body,” he said. “Take and drink… my blood.” Communion represents a truth that is fundamental to what it means to be human: that our life, our nourishment, our unity is dependent upon the sacrifice of God. Everything that we receive comes from his hands. If we really desire community, we must first come to terms with our own mortality. We must embrace the truth that we are not gods.
I will explore in more practical terms what that means in future posts. But for the purposes of this essay, I should state that I have no ambition to create an “online community” through this platform. If anything, I hope to inspire my readers to better love the spaces they inhabit. That will often mean unplugging, placing better boundaries around our digital devices, and creating as much space to be with those around us as possible. Ultimately, my hope is to help people recognize anew the beauty of the physical world, so that we may better love God and neighbor within our limitations.
I pray that these words will be for my readers like seeds planted in fertile soil that bears fruit beyond the bounds of the digital domain. So, please, get up from this virtual table, close your computer, turn off your phone; go and prepare a meal to share with others. You might be surprised to find that even as you sit down and remember Christ’s words that he is seated there with you too.