Dear Attention Selectors,

Several years ago, psychologists Christopher Chabris and Daniel Simons developed a video to confirm the condition named selective attention. In the video, two teams of students, one wearing black shirts and the other wearing white shirts, pass basketballs to each other. The viewer is challenged to count the number of times the white shirt team passes their ball. After viewing, the study participants were told the correct number of passes and asked to report the difference between that number and their count as observers. They were then asked if they saw the gorilla—a surprising number had not. A second viewing of the video confirmed that a few minutes in, someone in a gorilla suit wanders through the frame, pauses, mugs for the camera and then walks off. Some participants even insisted they were being shown a different video. (You can find several examples of this video online, but now that you know about the gorilla, the test won’t work for you. If you attempt to use the test on someone else, be sure to put the video in full screen mode. It works best if your visual range is centered on the passing ball.)

Selective attention may be the modern psychological term, but our failure to focus on the bigger picture has been around as long as humans have. When God approached Adam and Eve after they had eaten the forbidden fruit, they were focused more on their nakedness and blame than on their broken relationship with the Creator. When Jesus criticized the religious practice of the Pharisees, he pointed out that they were more attuned to technical adherence to the law than needs of actual people among them. As we gradually return to our worship space, where will our focus be? Will we miss the gorilla?

Commenting on the gorilla in the room usually means there is a problem that no one wants to address. But in this instance, I’m not referring to something we all see; I’m asking if there’s something we’re missing. Selective attention teaches us that we only see where we focus. Worship literally means to be shaped by the worthiness of something—we conform to that which we adore. A worship service invites us to align our attention, priorities and action to that on which we focus.

I know I’ve mentioned him before, but this reminds me again of Walter Markovic, the houseman who served Fourth Presbyterian Church when I was there as a student. Walter saw the sanctuary as a place to worship God; his job was to remove distractions. If there was clutter, dust or debris in the sightlines of a parishioner, Walter believed it would distract their focus from the serious work of worship. While he didn’t use the term selective attention, he understood the concept. He understood that his responsibility was to minimize opportunities for eyes and hearts to wander to places other than the Gospel. He often stayed late into Saturday organizing pew racks and dusting the chancel. Early Sunday morning, he would turn on the lights and complete one more walk-through to assure there was no stray bulletin or missing hymnal.

I would suggest that we prepare our hearts for worship with the same diligence. Before we arrive, do we set aside the distractions and intend our focus? If we come fixating on ourselves or on the performance of others, that is all we will see; we will only count the passes and fouls between teammates. And because our focus is too small, we will likely miss the presence of God.

Assuring you I will not be wearing a gorilla suit to worship… this week, I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor