The Joseph Effect, and more

San Antonio, Tlayacapan Catholic church, Jalisco, Mexico (Near Ajijic, Chapala)

We were talking trends this morning, in technology, primarily, where the telephone quickly becomes the cell phone and . . . who-knows-what in the future. Where the calculator seems a breakthrough after the abacus and counting fingers but is made redundant in a fraction of a lifetime by the computer, which in turn grows in capability through rapidly-passing generations, etc., etc. I thought of family farms giving way to corporate farming to who-knows-how food will be synthesized in an imaginary future. We talked about Sophia, the robot who has so many human-like abilities that she’s been granted citizenship! And of course, crypto-currency, artificial intelligence, 5G communication capability and threats and . . . on and on until the fear of being submersed by developments we barely understand made us want to crawl under the bed with our thumbs in our mouths, cuddled under a blankey.

We talk about trends and trajectories a lot when waxing prophetic. If it’s climate change we’re talking about (or global warming), then the change from 1900 to 2000 sets for us a rate of warming which lets us imagine the climate in 3000. This kind of prophesying, of course, can quite easily be computerized: accumulate years of data, write an algorithm by which the computer can confidently spit out a projection based on trends in the data. (Algorithms, of course, are man-made: a scary prospect is that we might believe the output of the computer and act on it, only to find out that the algorithm was faulty and we’d given the computer erroneous instructions or irrelevant data.)

The world today may be experiencing an economic surge: unemployment down, the markets strong, consumer confidence riding high. But the trajectory in economics has never yet been: “day by day, in every way, we’re getting better and better.” Economies—not totally unlike mega-climates or periods of drought/rain—have historically been cyclical: boom, bust, recover, repeat. It’s called “the Joseph Effect,” after Joseph’s dream interpretation in the Old Testament of “seven fat years followed by seven lean years.” (Genesis 41) Western economies will falter, along with the rest of the world; being a predictor of how deep or high the arcs in the Joseph Effect—or exactly when transitions from “fat” to “lean” will occur is something we’re not really very good at. Political parties take credit for “fat” years, blame each other for “lean” years and in the process, we never follow through on Joseph’s advice to save for the lean years an amount that will tide the economy through the coming downturn.

Prophesying, prognosticating, predicting, foretelling. Biblically, we’re warned that we tend to ignore even the wisest of predictions, especially if they’re coming from a person near us, someone we know (Mark 6:4). But even then, who can claim that he/she can with confidence foretell where trends we now see will lead? Will the hatred and division exhibited through social media intensify? Will artificial intelligence reach a sophistication that exceeds—maybe even imperils—humanity? Will climate change proceed as predicted with dire consequences for the environment? Whether we’ve chosen to stress over trends as our daily portion or have chosen to ignore the news and focus on that which doesn’t threaten, I’m sure we’re all hoping someone out there is dealing with the problems that can’t be forever ignored.

“No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon. Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?” (Matthew 6:24-25, KJV) Our children leaving home with this mentality would undoubtedly throw us into panic, “My God, they’re gonna starve out there!” Clearly, human life is neither completely God nor completely mammon, neither completely material nor spiritual. A key to the passage must lie in the word, serve.

It appears to me that the trending evils of this world arise from the overwhelming service to mammon, the accumulation and hoarding of material wealth. To get straight what and whom we serve appears to be a critical theme of the Sermon on the Mount. For me today, the upshot is that a disciple is a servant in the struggle against mammon’s hold on our brothers and sisters, that mammon that causes environmental degradation, that guarantees poverty amidst massive wealth, that nurtures hatred and discrimination, that fundamentally measures success and failure in dollars.

The Christian Church has a clear mandate to offer the gospel, to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the imprisoned and the sick. By every standard, though, the concerted effort to reduce the harm mammon causes should be an urgent mission of active communities of disciples. As a stroke of the pen can pollute rivers, plunge a demographic into poverty, deny healthcare to the poorest, start a military conflict, so the staying of the hand with the pen could bless a multitude of people, prevent climate disaster, enable healing for many. Might even encourage the writing of something new and daring by that same hand. A government that takes a serious look at the advice of Joseph, perhaps?

We don’t accomplish this by handing out band-aids alone. Nor by withdrawal. Service to the spirit in the Sermon on the Mount is a more robust, more risk-taking commitment, best accomplished in growing communities of unwavering conviction and unflagging cooperation.