Dear Valentine Validators:

So, the other day I’m scrolling through my snooze feed and scan several article links enticing me to read stories which could be summarized as, “Stupid Stuff People Said at Small Local Hearings.” Some were recorded at library board meetings, others were small-town city councils, a vast majority were public comments before school boards. The advent of remote and hybrid gatherings has created an avalanche of videos featuring alternative reality screeds voiced by sociopaths and malcontents blathering their latest paranoid ramblings into the cacophony of public discourse. It didn’t matter if the individual speaking was on the business side of the dais or on the public access microphone side, the mic and camera were rolling, and…action!

I’ll spare you the content of the lunacy; I’m sure you can substitute your favorite conspiratorial rambling here—which books to burn, who’s hiding the real truth and where the superintendent can stuff the latest guidelines. It’s all train-wreck stuff, and as with real train wrecks, we’re tempted to slow down and gawk. There’s something perversely mesmerizing about watching the real or imagined suffering of strangers.

The tragedy is not the erosion of civil discourse; these Snapchat-sized videos confirm that people are animated and engaged. What’s disconcerting to me is not the absurdity of the content but the complete lack of context. People have said stupid stuff in public places throughout human history. Given access to the halls of power, there have always been those who take the opportunity to scream while running naked through those halls with their hair on fire. No, the problem isn’t the looney tune stuff, but the amplified anonymity of the speakers. We aren’t provided with the identity and reputation of the contributor; instead we’re asked to focus on what they are saying, as if their content holds merit simply because they are talking.

Once upon a time, there was only so much paper and ink available to limited-budget local news outlets. People, called editors, deemed what information warranted broad public distribution. But now, public blathering can be globally disseminated at nominal expense to the distributor and consumer, and through the magic of targeted watch-the-wack-job-clickbait, idiocy has become deeply monetized. Which brings me to the joy of Valentine’s Day.

What holds a long-term relationship together is the grace of compassionate filtering. Were my beloved to hold every comment, every blunder, every bone-headed action in equal weight to my more thoughtful, intelligent, compassionate moments, my February 14th expressions of affection would be met with profound disdain. Fortunately, love endures because we read the story of us through carefully edited narratives. We choose which events mark the true character of our lives together, snipping out the less savory moments, highlighting the more endearing plot elements. It’s not that the weak moments are forgotten; love does not require denial. It’s how love sees a deeper context which diminishes the impact of foolish failures.

Of course, as a pastor, I need to insert a word of Scripture with some theological reflection to justify my own blathering. In this case my musing mind meanders to Psalm 130.3-4: “If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you.” And 1 Corinthians 13.5-7: “[Love] does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

In both personal and civic relationships, endurance requires a consistent editorial policy. Perhaps we can fall in love again, with each other, with democracy, if we decide to focus on what is being accomplished rather than sweating the stupid stuff.

Hoping this Valentine’s Day that love baits your clicks, I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor