Skip to main content

Irreligious iPhone

There was an article making the rounds lately about “Xennials” – the group in the shoulder space between Gen X and Millennials, who relate with some of the characteristics of each and not at all with others. A tongue-in-cheek Guardian quiz declared me a true Xennial because “you understand modern technology but are not so emotionally needy as to need constant validation from strangers you will never meet.” Another article said Xennials “possess both Gen X cynicism and Millennial optimism.”

You can probably tell that I regard myself as fitting into this group (as much as a nonconformist leaning individual raised in a bizarre subculture ever fits). What it has to do with smartphones is that I’m not “digital native” enough to be good at texting. (I try the two-handed thing, but it seems just as laborious and inaccurate as one-finger hunt and peck.) So I speak to my phone. (Kind of like in the old fashioned days. Except not.)

This dictate function works brilliantly for some people. Despite significant exercise, it does not work well for me. I don’t know if my pronunciation is so unusual, my vocal cadence so idiosyncratic, or perhaps my vocabulary just a bit unexpected.

I don’t fault it for turning “obligatory” into “black attorneys” because I’m never quite sure where to put the stress on that word, and the substitution is at least a real phrase. But it drops words from my sentences, adds others, and then misinterprets what I’m trying to say into the most bizarre, nonsensical coinages rather than into completely normal words I’ve actually used.

After all this time, it’s like it doesn’t even know me! (Such is that state of all-knowing tech these days that I don’t even know whether I’m being sarcastic or serious.)

The most consistent and baffling misinterpretation – which is a bigger problem than you might think if you weren’t aware that I regularly discuss theology via messaging apps with a good friend – is “even Jellicle.”

Seriously?!

It seems the iPhone programmers were bigger fans of T.S. Eliot than the apostle Paul. Perhaps this shouldn’t be a surprise.

There have been a lot of other theological words my phone has struggled to render. Another part of this conversation just wouldn’t come out right:
  • Just do it
  • She has zoo it
  • Jazz event

Did you guess?
“Jesuit.”

It makes for levity in serious conversations (or, perhaps more accurately defangs generally negative characterizations by punctuating them with a guffaw), and has possibly given me the title of my book. What it will be about or when I will write it is yet unknown, but, ever so slowly, pieces are starting to come together.

First line: “The river was not a shortcut.”
Title: Even Jellicle Lizum

It’s going to be a great (if initially baffling) read.

Thank you, auto-dictate.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My favourite nativity scene

“There’s no accounting for taste.” That’s my dad’s favourite way of explaining personal tastes that are incomprehensible to him, like living downtown, and riding bike in winter. The inexplicable factors which determine an individual’s likes or dislikes are probably the only way I can explain why my favourite nativity scene contains a horribly caricatured black magus, a random adoring child attired – to my fancy – like a Roma person, an old shepherd carrying some sort of blunderbuss. And a haloed holy family with an 18-month-old baby Jesus. This is the "Christmas Manger Set – the Christmas story in beautiful cut-out scenes and life-like figures." See how the 1940s-era family admires the realistic flourishes, like raw wood beams and straw protruding from the edge of the roofline; the rough, broken wood of the stalls; the tasselled camels; the richly dressed magi; the woolly sheep; the Bethlehemites on the path in the background, ostensibly out to get water, judging...

Upside down economics of Jesus: household action and global change

--Presented at a CAWG event in Altona -- In Living More with Less , Doris Janzen Longacre shares a story about envelopes from Marie Moyer, a missionary in India, who was studying Hindi with Panditji. Marie writes: “From his philosophic mind, which probed the meaning of events and circumstances, I learned more than Hindi.” Just before her teacher’s arrival one day before Christmas, she’d received and opened a pile of Christmas cards and discarded the envelopes as he walked in the room. She writes: “He sat down soberly and studied the situation, then he solemnly scolded me: ‘the reverberation of this wasteful act will be felt around the world’.” Marie was stunned. “What do you mean?” she asked him. “Those envelopes,” he said, pointing to the wastebasket. “You could write on the inside of them.” “Chagrined”, Marie apologized and rescued the envelopes with the help of Panditji, who “caressed each one” as he pulled it out of the garbage. This forever changed Marie’s relationship to p...

Broken people...

After reflecting with one coworker on how often churches in all their forms really mess up and hurt a whole bunch of people in the process -- and how "we gotta do better" -- I stumbled into another conversation with a coworker which highlighted our brokenness, and I suddenly realized what was wrong with my take in the first. I wanted the church to be better at fixing our mistakes, or better yet, at not making them in the first place. But maybe this "fix-it" attitude is partly the reason we keep blowing it again and again! My friend recollected an experience when a church community was in a terrible place: compounded mistakes, hurts, and frustrations had blown up, spewing pain all over all parties. (I'm sure anyone with a long history in the church can think of one, if not several, such occasions in their past.) A new Christian who observed all these goings on responded in an unexpected way. Instead of "you people are a bunch of screw-ups! How could this pos...