Last week I traveled with a colleague and student leader from Concordia College to Nicaragua where we learned about the amazing work Lutheran World Relief is doing in the country. The scouting trip was an important next step towards my dream to take a group of students there for a few weeks next summer, again partnering with and learning from LWR on the ground.

LWR does international development right. It’d be an honor to lead students on a longer, more in-depth LWR justice-related seminar next May. In no particular order of importance, here’s 10 quick thoughts from the experience.

1. LWR’s logo includes the words, “Sustainable Development. Lasting Promise.” Each local partner we met gave me a deeper understanding of all four words. It’s a pleasure to see an organization so consistent—and successful—in supporting its mission.
2. We met coffee farmers and saw the power of cooperatives firsthand. I want to learn much more about coffee production and the fair trade supply chain, but even seeing a few days of farms, roasting, and processing, I look at my morning cup(s) a bit differently. (Sadly, I also learned about leaf rust.)
3. I saw my first caiman! (Honestly, it looked pretty much like an alligator, but apparently it’s a different lineage with Alligatoridae.)
4. Wondering, specifically, what sort of work LWR is undertaking in Nicaragua? Check out their in-depth Nicaragua page.
5. Fresh fruit with every meal! Gallo pinto (rice and beans) with breakfast. Delicious.
6. Why are so many (though, not all) cooperatives in Nicaragua made up of women? I don’t understand all the cultural norms at this point, but the women-run co-ops seem to work really well. The hope, empowerment, and pride of working together was palpable.
7. Shaking the hand of the farmer who grew, harvested, roasted, ground, and processed cocoa beans into chocolate, a woman whose livelihood has been significantly changed by LWR’s partnership? Awesome. Eating the fresh chocolate? …well, that’s not bad either
8. Huge props to LWR’s in-country staff who flawlessly organized the scouting trip, put up with my ignorant questions, and humored my ridiculously poor Spanish.
9. It turns out it can rain quite heavily in the rainy season.
10.  I can’t wait to go deepen the college’s partnership with LWR and see where the next steps take us.

If plans proceed as I hope, Concordia students, look for info this fall about a May 2014 LWR justice journey seminar to Nicaragua!

As I responded here, and as Landon Whitsitt wrote here, sometimes Daniel’s snarkiness (boy, is she good at snark!) cuts too sharp and I worry that it closes rather than opens doors to the church. Though present in two or three essays, that snark is but a small portion of an overall good read. Despite my prejudice, I found myself enjoying the book quite a bit. Overall, it’s a book of beauty, not snark. 

Daniel’s essays run the gambit from short, blog-like entries to longer reflections to sermon-like essays drawing out scripture. Genre is a tricky thing, perhaps especially when a book is made up of 32 essays. I found the variation a nice touch, though it might be off-putting for some readers.

Speaking of readers, unlike some books written to draw the “spiritual but not religious” into the faith (like, say, many by Brian McLaren), Daniel’s latest felt more like a work for those already in the church, or at least those flirting close to its edge.

The work particularly shines when Daniel draws on emotion – humor or tragedy – to relate her faith stories to the broken, beautiful people of Christ’s church. While some readers may have come across several chapters previously published online or in magazines, like an Odd and Wondrous Calling I found that publishing them together brings a worthwhile heft to the book. One can also make apt connections between the essays.

So, thanks, Lillian Daniel, for providing the church (and its discontents) with a fine work of essays, snark and all.

• Are you friends with the Journal for Preachers on Facebook? Do you subscribe? It’s a great little journal; at $20 a year it’s a steal.
• Speaking of Facebook, there’s a group considering SXSW (a faith + tech tribe). I’d love to gather in Austin if/when there’s some good religion, technology, and culture dialogue. Who’s with me?
• After living out of suitcases for 2+ weeks, and anticipating another next week, I’m reminiscing about my time on St. Olaf College’s Global Semester. I was gone 5 months with a duffle and a backpack. I enjoy a wider variety of sartorial selections these days, but the simplicity of only having one bag’s worth of clothes at your disposal is a good exercise. So is moving.
• I’ll be out of town for Fargo’s Run or Dye 5K Run on June 29, but several friends are dying for it. Even if I were around, though, I’m not sure I’d sign-up. I get that it’s pretty and colorful and artsy and fun, but I hate getting messy. And, wow, it’s messy!
• I recently received a review copy of Leadership for a Better World: Understanding the Social Change Model of Leadership Development. I haven’t had time to peruse it yet, but it may be a strong option for a Faith and Leadership course text.
• Only 45 days until the July 15 deadline for receiving submissions for my book, Kissing in the Chapel, Praying in the Frat House: Wrestling with Faith and College. Please spread the word to 18 to 30 year-olds who might submit strong essays.
• Speaking of deadlines, order Glory to God: The Presbyterian Hymnal by June 30 for a reduced rate.
• I’m super-excited to leave Saturday for a scouting trip to Nicaragua with Lutheran World Relief. I’ve never been to Central America. I’m looking forward to meeting folks, learning what LWR is up to, and getting bitten by mosquitoes — or something like that.
• I’m sorry, though, to miss the Fargo Alley Fair downtown on Saturday.
• Larry Wohlrabe, Bishop of the Northwestern Minnesota Synod of the ELCA has drawn up a working document for ELCA pastors in the area, “The Legalization of Same-Sex Marriage by the Minnesota Legislature: Some Implications for Pastors and Congregations of the Northwestern Minnesota Synod.” Briefly, I’m struck by his helpful words and many distinctions between Lutheran and Presbytery polity on such matters.

This is my first summer “off” as a professor. So far I’ve learned: it’s definitely not “off.” I’ve also learned it’s very difficult to respond briefly when someone asks, “So, what are you up to this summer?” I’m up to a great deal (I think — I mean, I’ve never done this before, so I have no real measure, but it feels like a lot), and it’s exciting stuff…

Some of my plans this summer:

• revise a book chapter
• revise a journal article
• move to downtown Fargo!
• 12 days of vacation
• 6 days in Nicaragua, scouting for a partnership between Lutheran World Relief and Concordia
• taking an intensive course at NDSU: Writing, Disciplinarity & English, taught by Paul Prior
• 7 days in Slovakia, scouting for a partnership between the Center for Christian Education and Concordia
• extensive work developing a new course Religion & Digital Culture to be taught by me next spring
• attend the Presbyterian Youth Triennium and informally present on Glory to God! The Presbyterian Hymnal
• lead a workshop at the Synod of Lakes and Prairies Synod School
• speak at Luther Seminary’s Stewardship with Adults Under 40 conference
• significant time reading and editing submissions for my book on wrestling with faith and college
  
• attend several days of summer faculty workshops at Concordia

Between and betwixt these events, I’ll be tackling a large stack of “must read” books that have somehow piled up in my office. (If you have any others to recommend, please let me know!)

On the one hand, this seems like a lot of work, and not much actual vacation. And, well, that’s true. On the other hand, I really do enjoy it and I’m thrilled for every opportunity on that list. (I’m also looking forward to pizza and beer on the roof of Rhombus Guys.)

While the amount of work to do this summer is similar to that during the year, the pacing is very different. I can travel to Nicaragua, for instance, and not have to worry about checking email and responding to students’ questions about paper assignments. I can read books without having to put them down to prep for the next department meeting. In short, I hope to focus my thoughts on one project at a time!

One of the first of these “projects” is vacation, one on which I’m really going to enjoy being away and not checking email, and unless a writing bug hits, not writing a blog post. So…until I post again: happy summer!

image by stephan fleet

This summer, July 29-31, Luther Seminary is hosting a conference on the theme Stewardship with Adults Under 40: Possibilities Abound. I’m attending (and will be giving a presentation titled, “New Ideas, New Media, New Moves”) and I’m really excited to think about these great questions with those gathered. As we say in the south, “Y’all might should come along.”

The event website is here. A promo post of mine went out yesterday in the Stewardship for the 21st Century e-newsletter. I’ll excerpt it below, and encourage you to sign-up for the newsletter (and finish reading the piece) at this website.

Stewardship and Social Media 

I wake up to my iPhone alarm blaring. A few minutes later, I’m reading my local newspaper, then the New York Times on my iPad, sharing interesting articles on my Facebook wall and tweeting others. Next, I drive to a coffee shop and pay with Square, an app on my phone that syncs with the iPad at the counter. Using Square, when I enter the coffee shop my headshot automatically appears on the iPad and the barista simply says, “Thanks, Adam” after I order, pressing her finger on the screen to charge my credit card. I make a mental note to pull up the app and add a tip later. Finally, I arrive at church, checking-in on Foursquare, a geo-location social app that connects with my Facebook check-ins. Before silencing and putting away my phone, I respond to a few comments on the newspaper articles I shared earlier. Finally, I settle into my pew.

Such a tech-heavy Sunday morning is not unusual for me, nor for other Millennials or Gen Xers. Indeed, culturally speaking, perhaps the most unusual part of that scenario—sadly—is that I actually end up in church at all. Mobile technologies and the social media abilities they allow are not going away. Their ubiquity calls the church to action in a least two ways.

First, people of faith must ask the question: “How is God calling us to be stewards of social media?”…. read more at Stewardship for the 21st Century

Faculty line up to congratulate the 2013 graduates of Concordia College.

The Concordia College class of 2013 graduated this afternoon. It was an honor to attend the ceremony (even squished in the faculty seating trying not sneeze and share my spring cold with my colleagues). With the 2012-13 school year now in the books, here are some quick reflections from my first year as a professor. I’ll take Rachel Held Evan’s lead and put them in superlatives form, with the caveat they’re all a bit off-the-cuff.

Biggest surprise: how fast the 70 minutes of class flew by each MWF.

Best book: my Faith and Leadership class read many books (and selections), both together and on individual assignments. Judging from reading reflection papers, however, best book accolades go to Ellie Roscher’s, How Coffee Saved My Life (Chalice, 2009). As one student put it, “I mean, it didn’t even feel like it was fair to read this for class—I enjoyed it way too much.”

Best support: my colleagues in the religion department have been super-supportive of the launch of the Faith and Leadership Concentration in the Religion Major. At every juncture along the approval process and now into its initial implementation, I could not have asked for better support in word and deed.

Biggest news going forward: I’m starting, part-time, a PhD program at North Dakota State University in English: Rhetoric, Writing and Culture. I look forward to exploring a range of research interests, but particularly those in religious rhetoric and new media.

Most dependable lunch buddy: Andrew Lindner, Sociology, whom I can always count on for just the right blend of encouragement and cynicism.

Favorite Faith and Leadership moment: Most classes begin with a F.L. Moment during which we discuss a current event in faith and leadership. My favorite, perhaps, was watching, then discussing, Maclemore’s “Same Love.”

Biggest pedagogical question: What’s the best way for students to engage class readings in discussions? This semester I had students post discussion questions once a week to an online discussion board. I then curated these into a one-page document, and I led class discussions on them. If I stick with this format going forward, I wonder how to encourage more penetrating questions. If I change to having a student discussion leader each class, I wonder how to support that student.

Most nerve-wracking: Planning and leading the first annual, best ever “Who BREWs Best” event. (Close second: driving the Justice Journey 15 passenger van back from Minneapolis to Fargo in the wee hours of the morning, in winter.)

Best opportunity to connect with students: Traveling as the faculty advisor on a Justice Journey to Lantern Hill in Ensenada, Mexico.

Biggest head scratcher: Why is the academy, even as we say/hope/are pushed otherwise, so stuck in our own areas and averse to cross-disciplinary work?

Most exciting partnership developing: Work with Dan Lee and others at Lutheran World Relief to plan a Justice Journey to Nicaragua for students next May.

Most mentioned strategic plan: Concordia College’s, Whole Self, Whole Life, Whole World, of course.

Best Maize meal: Anything with potato wedges.

Least second-guessed decision: Asking students to call me “Adam.” “Professor Copeland” works OK, but it doesn’t quite fit perfectly. I never regretted “Adam.”

Biggest adjustment: Having a job with colleagues, an office to go to, and institutional support, rather than working from home and calling all my own shots as with The Project F-M.

Best advice taken: A former professor of mine encouraged me to set aside at least one day in my calendar each week for writing. With a few exceptions, I was able to do that this year and I so appreciated the practice. I hope to expand to 1.5 days next year.

Proudest moment: Seeing my students leave campus to, as our mission statement says, “influence the affairs of the world.”

Joe Biden on Pope Francis, before the new Pope’s inauguration at the Vatican:

“He shares a vision that all of us share, to reach out to the poor and the dispossessed.”

Really? All of us? Do we really all share the vision of reaching out to the poor and dispossessed?

I’m not sure what crowd Biden was addressing, so maybe it was indeed a group of Catholics all of whom feel called to reach out to the poor and dispossessed. But, it got me thinking: has the Christian preferential option for the poor been so neutered that it’s just seen as a nice thing to say (rather than live out). “Yay. We reach out to the poor! Go us….and lower them taxes!”

The statement came to mind again last weekend during Bill Gates’ visit. Yes, Bill Gates was on Concordia College’s campus on Saturday to address a packed crowd, and commemorate the opening of the Offutt School of Business.

As Gates responded to students’ questions, he rarely mentioned faith and religion at all (even when it would made sense). What Gates did address, though, was the scourge of growing wealth inequality, and the responsibility we have to care for the poor.

In response to a students’ question about sustainable farming practices in Tanzania (the student asked via video, from Tanzania, which was cool), Gates mentioned the utter unfairness that those in impoverished communities around the world, those who have contributed least to climate change, will be the most affected by it.

Responsible engagement in the world, Bill Gates said, starts with care for the poor.

OK, so I’m not really wanting to get into the Gates Foundation policies, or Joe Biden’s Catholicism (not today, at least). What I’m wondering, though, is how many of us would begin an answer about our moral responsibility in the world with care for the poor.

As a citizen, do we necessarily have a responsibility to care for the poor? 
If so, then as a Christian does that care for the poor become more urgent, more apparent, or just more wordy?

I’d love for Biden’s statement to be true. I’d love for every citizen, and person of faith, and secular person, everyone, for all of us to emphasize reaching out to the poor as central to our life’s work. But, even so, a vision is one thing; action is another.

Following
Matthew 4:18-22

I.

Leadership is big these days. The pages of pastors’ magazines are filled with ads for leadership conferences. Duke Divinity School runs a popular blog at faithandleadership.com. I was called last year by Concordia College to direct a new religion major concentration for faith and leadership. Luther Seminary in St. Paul runs a Center for Missional Leadership. Our last presbytery meeting included leadership training for elders. A quick glance at my bookshelf reveals titles such as, Leadership On the Line, The Spirit-Driven Leader, and Non-Profit Leadership in a For-Profit World. Leadership studies is a big deal these days.

Leadership is an important, vital, aspect of a pastor’s life. Who moderates session meetings? Who plans for Lord’s Day worship? Who is head of staff? Who gets the call when there’s another funeral? Who makes the call when there’s a blizzard? Who preaches most Sundays? Leadership is essential to what pastors do.

But leadership, as important as it is, must never be confused with a pastor’s ultimate calling. God calls pastors, like the rest of us, to follow Christ.

Take it from me—someone who teaches courses with “leadership” in the course name and has “leadership” in my title—as important as leadership is to society today, our world needs a renewed emphasis on followership, not leadership.

The faithful pastor’s calling must first be about following—following Jesus Christ, with guidance from the Holy Spirit, to the glory of God. Today we install Paul Lang as pastor of this congregation. Paul is called to preach the gospel, preside over the sacraments, and to lead us in how to follow.

II.

In Matthew 4, we find five short verses about the power of Jesus’ call to follow. The story of Jesus calling the disciples to follow him has become a Sunday School classic. There’s something endearing about thinking of the first disciples as fisherman on a beach, but as sweet as that is, it’s a terrifying story, really.

I don’t know about you, but it totally freaks me out that Jesus’ call is so shockingly sudden. It get deeply uncomfortable when I consider that those who followed Jesus were the type of men who would just leave their jobs—and their families—without a moment’s notice.

Come to think of it: maybe we shouldn’t teach this story in Sunday School, after all it might inspire young Christians to run off with a stranger, leave their job, and do a crazy thing like “fish for people.” Friends, this is not child’s play, but what Karl Barth called, “the strange new world of the Bible.”

So what, on this installation Sunday, might God be telling us about following Jesus Christ?

First, the call to follow Jesus can be abrupt. Sometimes, when Jesus calls, we cannot take the time to fashion the perfect strategic plan. When Jesus called to Peter and Andrew on that beach, “Follow me, and I will make you first for people,” he did not say, “Here are my long-term objectives, talk this through with your stakeholders at your annual meeting and let me know if you think the mission is scalable.”

Jesus’ call to Peter and Andrew is a Presbyterian polity nightmare. It is not done “decently and in order.” There is no time for prayer and discernment. They can’t check the Book of Order or last year’s session minutes. “Follow me,” Jesus says to Andrew and Peter, and “immediately, they left their nets and followed him.”

Thank goodness, present-day ministry often allows for a least one session meeting’s worth of contemplation. But, not always. At times Paul will have to decide at a moment’s notice how to be your pastor in Hornbacher’s frozen food section. Or, Paul’s phone will ring at 3:00 in the morning, and in the fog of sleep Paul must be awake to his call as pastor. Like those disciples on the beach, pastoral ministry sometimes requires split-second improvisation.

I know a pastor in Florida Presbytery who, a few years ago, got a call out of the blue from a group of 20 migrant workers from south Florida. They had traveled to the state capital to testify in the legislature about immigration reform and farm labor laws, but the hearing had been pushed-back a day. So their leader called the Presbyterian church downtown, hoping to spend the night there.

“We need a place to sleep?” he explained to the pastor who picked up the phone.

“You mean tonight?” the pastor gulped.

“Si,” he said, “can you help us?”

There were a few seconds’ silence.

“Of course we can,” the pastor said, “We’ll have dinner ready at 6:30 and as many sleeping bags as we can find. We’d love to welcome you with Christian hospitality at our church. I’ll make some calls. We’ll see you at 6:30.”

Following Jesus, even today, can be shockingly abrupt.

III.

This story from Matthew 4 reminds us also that our call to follow is, well, a bit weird. We can admit it: it’s not normal for grown men to drop what they’re doing and follow some guy on the beach. After Jesus called Andrew and Peter, he saw two other brothers, James and John, with their father Zebedee. Again, we read, they “immediately” left their boat, and their father, and followed Jesus.

In recent years, one of the biggest dangers to the church is that it has become normal. The Christian faith has been put in a little box, and as long as we don’t go too far, we’re seen as part of the majority culture. Following Jesus has become passé, like membership in the Rotary Club or service in the PTA.

A pastor friend of mine named Sara recently presided over the baptism of her nephew. After the service, a six year-old friend of the newly baptized asked Sara what baptism meant.

Sara said to him, “nothing is more important than baptism because it’s adoption by God; it’s final and forever.” The child then ran to his parents saying he wanted to be baptized. He shouted, “I don’t just belong to my parents, I belong to God!”

Now who knows what would have happened if Sara had told that child, “Talk to your parents about how baptism is a nice, sweet ritual that builds social capital.” Or, “Our tradition here is that we only baptize on the first Sunday of the month.”

Following Jesus today takes a willingness to be seen as a bit weird, to counter our culture’s values of money and power and claim that shocking, Christian identity that causes disciples to drop their nets, an, children to run the baptismal font shouting for joy!

IV.

This semester at Concordia I’m teaching a new class called, “Faith and Leadership.” One of the course readings is a few chapters from Craig Barnes’ book, The Pastor as Minor Poet.

To be honest, I hesitated when I considered putting the chapter on the syllabus, because Barnes directly takes on much of what my students have experienced up to this point in their lives.

Barnes rails against commencement addresses that tell graduates to “dream their own dreams.” Barnes calls it a grave failure that youth today don’t understand sacred traditions. He critiques equating “success” with meeting others’ expectations and says that good pastoral leadership is less about being liked than being respected for faithful following of Jesus Christ.

I was worried about assigning the reading…but my students loved it! They wanted to read the whole book. Barnes’ dismissal of easy answers, his call for counter-cultural leadership, was music to their young ears.

There is something off-putting to this story from Matthew 4. I think, like good pastoral followership, it should make us uncomfortable. Who does Jesus think he is, to call the brothers’ without any preparation? Who does he think we are, that we might follow him?

V.

Now let me be clear. To the members of First Presbyterian Church of Fargo: Paul Lang is not Jesus Christ. (Among other reasons why: Jesus didn’t have a southern accent, and there are no Biblical accounts of him wearing a bow tie and suspenders.)

And, lest we forget, you and I are not Jesus either. So we need a church, and a pastor, to help our following.

Following Jesus today takes partnership. I asked my students if they knew any pastors of the kind Craig Barnes describes in his book. Barnes calls for pastors with “poetic vision,” who rely on the major poets of scripture to “get beneath the reality of what is being said and done to explore the often-mysterious truth of [our ultimate concern]” (20).

Barnes calls for pastors who can point to God beneath the layers of life because, he writes, “God is always present but not usually apparent” (22). Pastors as minor poets get beneath presenting challenges of budgets and buildings to underlying theological concerns.

So I asked my students, “Can you name a pastor who lives up to Barnes’ description of a faithful, poetic pastor today?” Only one student responded, and she began with a caveat.

Now I’m not here to blame pastors—of course not—but rather to acknowledge the enormous challenging of being the lead follower of a church today. There’s no magic formula to following—as pastor, elder, deacon, or member. There’s no perfect path to an ability to empower others to follow. You can’t order it for VBS and install it by September. Paul, even with his many gifts, will slip on the ice from time to time.

Ultimately, we learn to follow by encountering God’s holy word in scripture—in our personal reading, and especially in our life together.

We become followers when we gather in this old meeting house and, as the reformers put it, “the word is truly preached” and the Spirit brings us into God’s presence at the Lord’s Supper.

We learn to follow God by raising our voices in “hymns, psalms, and spiritual songs to God” (Eph. 5:19).

We learn to follow by praying alone at home, and praying with our hands and feet, within these walls and beyond.

We learn to follow God by discerning God’s spirit moving, always, in mysterious, surprising ways.

Brother Paul, members of this fine congregation, presbyters of the Northern Plains: I’m afraid following is out of vogue these days. And yet, Jesus calls us: “Follow me.”

Drop your nets; it’s time follow Jesus.

And now to God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be glory and praise, now and forever. Amen.

I’ll post the intro below, and I invite you to click over to the other sites for the full piece.

Have you ever heard someone described as, “So heavenly minded, he was no earthly good?” This phrase suggests one danger of interpreting the book of Revelation. Sadly, when it comes to considering the natural world and Revelation, heavenly-mindedness often undermines care for our environment. Some Christians have a tendency to think, “Well, if I’m off to heaven, I shouldn’t care much about this silly earth of ours. It’s just a temporary home, after all.”

 

In fact, Revelation suggests the opposite: the earth isn’t truly “left behind,” but renewed, becoming the very dwelling place of God. Revelation 21 calls people to be, well, “earthly good,” caring for creation as we prepare for God to come home.

For the full essay and accompanying video, visit HuffPost Religion, ON Scripture, Day1, or Sojourners.

Also, here’s the related video:

Writing a recent reflection piece connecting on social media in preparation for a summer Luther Seminary Conference, “Stewardship with Adults Under 40: Possibilities Abound,“  has me thinking: it’s awfully difficult to know what words to use these days to describe that newfangled technology stuff that takes up so much of our lives.

Often people will use the term “social media” to describe, well, anything that’s somewhat connected to Facebook. In that way, the phrase is helpful. But, of course, it doesn’t actually describe tablets or smartphones themselves. Though “social media” is sometimes used (especially in churches?) to describe all-encompassing new technology, that’s clearly not it’s true definition.

“New Media” is a bit more open—and it’s nice to have “new” in there—but it also falls short. Is an iPhone media? I don’t think so, though new media can be accessed on a smartphone.

So what the best broader term for all the new tech stuff that’s changing our culture?

Some have started using the phrase, “digital culture” to connote technology-related changed to our broader culture. I take digital culture to include the use of smartphones, the prominence of new/social media, and even the rise of a more tech-mediated way of thinking.

It’s a helpful term, I think, but it also feels a bit imprecise. “Digital” works well to distinguish between types of clocks, digital or analog, but as a modifier of “culture” it seems to me to fall short. It’s too Star Trek.

In more academic literature “cyber culture” is sometimes used. I take it that “cyber” was used more often 20+ years ago, and now is making a come back. It often describes new disciplines or subcultures such as cyber feminism, cyber theory, and cyberpunk.

This more technical use makes me less likely to use “cyber” in a general presentation, say, to a congregation.

So what’s left? ICTs—or internet and communication technologies—feels antiseptic and too acronymy. “Digital Communication” isn’t bad, but it leaves out some functions of technology beyond communication. Then there’s always the fun phraseology of just adding some sort of technology before a phrase: the “iPhoneification” of movie watching or the “gamification” of digital picture taking.

So, for this little essay for the church, what did I do? I mixed several of these phrases in the piece without stopping to define them. I was aware some of the language was used broadly, or without much specificity, so I didn’t get stuck on one.

And that was unsatisfying.

In the coming months I have a related problem: what should I title a new course I’m teaching on, well….that’s the problem–Digital Religion, or Religion & Digital Culture, or New Media, Religion, & Digital Culture, or Religion and Cyberculture, or Technology and Theology, or, well, you get the point.