Capital “T” truth is out of fashion these days. I have been reading lately about the “new culture of learning” that details the exponential technological change that has radically altered the way we learn. People like John Seely Brown are pointing out that in such a world, knowing “context” is more important than knowing “content.” I’ve been intrigued. Most of what Brown writes resonates even as it alienates — because I am not a digital native and am what is known as a “late adapter.” His observation that many people, particularly younger generations, value “collectives” over “community” and regard “participation” over “belonging” is both fascinating and befuddling to me.
This new culture of learning is about agency and passion; in fact, “institutional backing is no longer a warrant for credibility.” Brown, in his book “A New Culture of Learning,” writes that meaning “now arises not from interpretation (what something means) but from the contextualization (where something has meaning).” In this new culture of learning, human beings are Homo faber, those who make context and therefore meaning. Further, we are in a world “where images, text and meaning can be manipulated for nearly any purpose.” I don’t doubt Brown’s claim, what with Photoshop and iMovie and Dubsmash. Manipulating meaning is easy and the manipulations not always obvious. So I am left, frighteningly enough, like Pilate, asking, “What is truth?”
I guess I should be asking instead, “Where is truth?”
Where is truth? Is there such a thing in our post-everything context, a context that eats content for lunch, a context that can be manipulated almost at will? I feel unmoored as I am bombarded with the pings of notifications on my phone, a newsfeed full of articles from multiple sources and an endless amount of information available in my pocket or purse. What is truth? Where is truth? Is there any Truth?
John’s Gospel reminds us that grace and truth came through Jesus, that we must worship in spirit and in truth, that the truth will set us free and that indeed Jesus is the truth. But then Pilate, with Jesus right in front of him asks, “What is truth?” The question resounds through time and seems to get louder with each passing generation. I had a teenager tell me of her faith, “I have a hard time believing in a God I have not actually experienced.”
She was open to the possibility of God, even the specifics of Jesus and his story, but sought some tangible evidence, a personal experience. She was asking not: What is truth? But rather: Where is truth? As Brown points out, “In the digital world, we learn by doing, watching, experiencing.” Respectful as this digital native is of church and church people, institutional authority wasn’t enough. Like Thomas, she wants to put her hand in Jesus’ side. She knows all too well how easy it is to manipulate images, texts and meaning. She does it daily on her iPhone. What is truth? No, where is truth?
As daunting as this current context is for old school people like me, it is also hopeful. We have biblical guidance for answering this where question, right at the beginning of John. The very first disciples ask of Jesus: Where are you staying? Jesus responds, “Come and see.” Nathanael a few verses later asks, “Where did you get to know me?” Jesus says, “I saw you.” We are equipped to answer, “Where is truth?” by pointing to the One who is truth, trusting that Jesus already knows the ones we invite to come and see him.
John Seely Brown talks about the importance of inquiry, imagination and indwelling in this new culture of learning. He writes, “Indwelling is the set of practices we use and develop to find and make connections. … It is the set of experiences from which we are able to develop our hunches and sense of intuition.”
Honoring the questions of those who have a hunch about God, inviting them to join in the practices of our faith and welcoming their contributions will lead to our both experiencing the Way the Truth and the Life. Come and see.
Grace and peace,
Jill
