It used to be the one-eyed monster in the corner. Now it lives in your pocket, winks at you at the bus stop, and has moved to reside over the mantelpiece – as well as kitchen, bedrooms, and even the bathroom.
Its one stare has now become a 100 or so different ones, but most of them are just the original in fragments. With a lot of junk.
And we write into it, talk into it, caress it and listen to it.
But, of course, it isn’t the screen we interact with – but the world the screen puts us in touch with. News, games, friends, sport, information. The screen is something you go through, it’s a window. It’s a means, not an end.
People see religious icons as things that fit this category – windows through which to connect with God. I must say, they don’t do it for me. When we were training, we once had a chapel full of icons to contemplate and be inspired by. I think I got the record time for my cogitations – I was the first one out.
My icons are flesh and blood, as I was talking about on Sunday evening. Those unlikely looking, ordinary people who surprise you by betraying the grace of the saviour they love.
I don’t mean they are people I worship. I don’t think they are pop stars. They are people who God shines through.
Screens of Glory.