Virtue, Vice, and Virtual Worlds:

A Theological Perspective on Moral Formation 

Jacob Shatzer

jwshatzer@gmail.com

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Introduction

The virtual is very accessible. What was once the realm of those with access to expensive technological equipment is now available to anyone with a computer and a high-speed Internet connection. The computer serves as a terminal to other worlds, worlds filled with wizards, warriors, and talking animals. Some even prognosticate a mass exodus to virtual worlds, with an increasing number of people spending more time there and demanding the real world to change if it wants them back.[1] As more people move significant portions of their lives into virtual worlds, the way they are shaped there will influence their real-world moral formation, their growth as holistic human beings, and their ability to live within authentic community.[2]

In order to understand what is at stake, this increasingly popular “destination” requires careful evaluation. The following seeks to highlight what is at stake from a Christian theological perspective. First, I will describe this particular perspective along with key theological themes. Second, I will briefly describe virtual worlds with one particular example, Second Life. Finally, I will address pertinent issues of moral formation, bringing the theological perspective to bear on virtual worlds and the particular challenges they can pose to moral formation. While virtual worlds should not be demonized or avoided altogether, Christians must be aware of the unique challenges they can pose to the development of human character and community as defined theologically.

Theological Perspective and Key Themes

Before describing the technological issues to be explored, it will be helpful to set out a basic framework for some theological themes that will prove useful in the analysis. Christian theology seeks to speak humbly about God as he has revealed himself through the Scriptures and through his church. It especially revolves around Jesus’ Greatest Commandment: love God and love the neighbor. This is such a simple command; yet it is so difficult to apply and to carry out, especially with advanced technology in view. What does it mean to love God and love the neighbor in virtual worlds? The following theological themes are drawn from the work of James K. A. Smith, a Pentecostal theologian, and A. J. Conyers, a Baptist theologian. Smith develops an anthropology of humans as lovers, with the proper object of love being God. Conyers works with themes related to community and what it means to love God and neighbor in light of the challenges of modern society. Though each speaks from his particular faith tradition, the themes that are detailed here are broadly Christian and can be appropriated by a variety of faith traditions.

Humans as Lovers

In his recent book Desiring the Kingdom, Smith insists on the importance of philosophical anthropology for thinking about education and formation. He lays out two anthropologies that he finds deficient. First, a dominant model that is as old as Plato and rebirthed by Descartes views the human person as a thinker.[3] Protestant Christianity in particular has absorbed this view of the human, resulting in a “talking-head version of Christianity that is fixated on doctrines and ideas.”[4] Second, some argue that thinking operates on the basis of faith, so the human should be viewed primarily as a believer.[5] The idea is that, before we are thinkers, we are believers. While acknowledging the strengths of both positions, Smith ultimately sees both as emphasizing something that is less than primary, and he proposes a different anthropology.

Understanding the human person as lover can be traced at least as far back as Augustine and takes into account the complexity of human existence.[6] Smith sees four key elements in this model: humans are intentional creatures whose fundamental way of intending is love or desire; this love (which is unconscious and non-cognitive) is always aimed at some particular version of the good life; sets of habits and dispositions prime us to be oriented and to act in certain ways; and affective, bodily means, such as bodily practices, routines, and rituals, grab hold of the heart through the imagination and form the person.[7] What the person loves is what the person worships.

This model shifts the focus from the cognitive to the affective aspects of identity formation. Love takes practice, and that practice occurs in ways that many people do not realize. Smith mentions “thin” habits (mundane activities, like brushing teeth, which seemingly do not touch our love or desire) and “thick” habits (meaning-full activities that play a significant role in shaping our identity and our loves).[8] However, there are no neutral practices, whether thick or thin. For instance, thin practices can serve thick ends, such as the daily habit of exercising, which can serve the end of wanting to see one’s children grow up and spend many years of friendship with one’s spouse. Thick formative practices are “meaning-laden, identity-forming practices that subtly shape us precisely because they grab hold of our love—they are automating our desire and action without our conscious recognition.”[9]

“Liturgy” serves as the lens for analyzing practices. Smith defines liturgies as “ritual practices that function as pedagogies of ultimate desire.”[10] This can obviously apply to religious practices, but Smith extends the analysis to “secular liturgies” in order to get at the way humans are being shaped in fundamental ways by cultural institutions that often pass without much careful thought. While some may initially hesitate to apply liturgy to seemingly secular practices, the use is appropriate and helpful because it focuses not on the formation of the liturgies themselves but the way the ritual practices shape human desire.

Smith focuses on three examples. The mall (consumerism) reflects what matters and shapes what matters. The military-entertainment complex (nationalism) seeks to orient allegiance solely to the state. The university, also, is not primarily about information but about shaping imagination and desire so that students will pursue a particular vision of the good life.[11] Secular institutions project a version of what is broken in the human condition, what true flourishing looks like (what should be desired), and how to act in order to achieve success. Simple practices are not innocent, for they form the heart.

This philosophical anthropology of the human as lover and the understanding of “secular liturgies” raise the stakes for understanding virtual worlds from a Christian theological perspective. Smith’s analysis will help focus our attention not only on what people do within these worlds, but how these worlds can serve as forming liturgies.

Hearing God’s Call

In The Listening Heart, Conyers seeks to address the crisis of modern culture from a Christian perspective.[12] In particular, he sees societies that have become untethered from any sense of the transcendent and any sense of calling; instead, they focus on the modern celebration of unfettered human will. While this book does not address virtual worlds at all, the themes that Conyers develops around vocation, attention, and community provide a helpful perspective from which to assess virtual “communities” and the formation that occurs within a virtual world.

Conyers laments that modern society has lost a sense of vocation, a sense that was vital for the formation of strong societies in pre-modern times. “The term ‘vocation’ stands for all of those experiences and insights that our lives are guided by Another, that we are responding not to inert nature that bends to our will, but to another Will, with whom we might live in covenant relationship, and to Whom we will be ultimately accountable.”[13] This sentiment of divine call “gives to the society in which it is embedded a certain character that we would find to be distinctly non-modern.”[14]

Four points highlight this distinction. First, “the idea of a call implies an agent outside of the one who is subject to the call.”[15] People are given freedom to respond to a summons; freedom is not an inner-directed impulse but the use of the will to respond. There is a difference between a society that incorporates some sense of vocation and one that explains behavior in other ways. Second, “the summons is often against the will of the one who is called into service.”[16] This stands in stark contrast to post-Enlightenment thought, which often emphasizes reason as a replacement for the idea of vocation.[17] Third, “the calling involves in almost every case hardships that must be overcome in order to answer the summons.”[18] Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Muhammad, Mani, Socrates, Jesus, and Paul all confronted the threat of death by their communities. Fourth, “from the point of view of answering to the summons, the greatest danger appears … in the possibility of being diverted or distracted from the goal.”[19] Conyers notes that “These distinctive features of vocation found in traditional societies help us to mark off what is now different in our own modern and Western culture. While the sentiment is still there in form and in vocabulary, its striking force and its assault upon the ego are all but dissolved.”[20]

One theme connected to this loss of vocation is the grasping after both power and control. Knowledge is sought for the purpose of mastery and control rather than participation in community.[21] In fact, “Power has become the centerpiece of a new kind of harmony, one based no longer on the ‘right relation of things’ in a world that both begins and ends in mystery, but it is a harmony that comes from control.”[22] Control diminishes relationship; the will of one alone is expressed, and conversation and communion are lost.[23] A loss of vocation that emphasizes the individual will and promotes the desire to control castrates the propagation of genuine community.

Attention is the appropriate response to vocation. This “means the overthrowing of ‘vain imaginations,’ the disposal of a self-centered view of existence.”[24] It is important to Christian thought and practice, because prayer consists in attention.[25] “The purpose and end of attention is a transformation in which reality awakens within us, pushing aside the unreal and selfish dreams which had kept us subdued in unwakefulness.”[26] This stance is contrary to today’s world, because “Society prefers the narcotic of refusing to face painful situations believing that, by refusing reality, it is affirming life.”[27] “If vocation is the opposite of a life simply chosen, from among differing alternatives, or among numberless innocuous choices, whether we call these ‘lifestyles,’ or ‘alternate realities,’ then it involves facing and accepting both the limits and the painfulness of that for which we are chosen.”[28]

The opposite of attention is distraction. Conyers argues, “We are distracted. To be modern is to exist increasingly in a state of distraction.”[29] We justify this life of distraction, which tries to pull apart what belongs together in the eyes of faith. The modern human is distracted from knowing in order to participate and instead seeks to know in order to master, which brings separation. The problem is one of our affections; we have failed to love properly.[30] The modern era provides intense opportunities for distraction.

For Conyers, all of these issues come together in the concept of community, which he worries is in danger in the modern setting. “Here is a literal picture of the community that is in any real sense men and women communing together about life: nourished and informed by virtue of their rootedness, oriented toward their destiny, and open in love toward one another—this is the succinct meaning of community, the aim of which is to provide space and give nourishment to the human spirit.”[31] True community is promoted when the members refuse to seek power and control and instead attempt to hear and follow God, living a life that is faithful to God and open to one another. Cultures that promote individualism and control contribute to the dissolution of community; they “imitate the form of community but deny its substance.”[32]

Thus Smith and Conyers help form a theological perspective from which to attempt to understand virtual reality and its ethical implications. Humans are essentially lovers, and we learn love by practice. The themes of vocation and attention serve to drive true community flourishing. Thus “secular liturgies” can be analyzed in order to understand whether or not they shape human affections for this sort of community and human flourishing. Virtual worlds serve as an example of one such “liturgy,” and these themes from Conyers will prove fruitful for analysis and evaluation after we have described what virtual worlds are.

Overview and Example of Virtual Reality

Virtual reality is a rapidly developing field, so any reflection will inevitably seem a bit outdated. However, utilizing key research and description of the field, it is possible to outline some basic historical understanding and description of key features in order to move toward theological reflection and engagement. The following provides a general overview before moving to describe Second Life as a specific example of the type of virtual world in view.

Overview

In this investigation, the following definitions will be important. Anthropologist Tom Boellstorff defines a virtual world as a place of human culture realized by computer programs through the Internet.[33] However, “Forming a terminology thus presents challenges, particularly because virtual worlds change so swiftly and conceptual imprecision is far from unknown.”[34] It is necessary to establish what characteristics are non-negotiable while allowing room for development as the worlds themselves change with technological innovation.

Here the work of Ralph Schroeder is particularly helpful.[35] He provides a clear definition of “virtual environments” and “virtual reality” technology as “a computer-generated display that allows or compels the user (or users) to have a sense of being present in an environment other than the one they are actually in, and to interact with that environment.” A “virtual world” is a “persistent virtual environment in which people experience others as being there with them—and where they can interact with them.” These definitions highlight both the immersive nature of these environments as well as the persistent quality of “virtual worlds.” They do not cease to exist when a user logs off; people continue to inhabit them, events happen, and things can change. Schroeder succeeds in incorporating the technological needs for virtual reality while distinguishing virtual environments and virtual worlds. Virtual worlds, then, are persistent virtual environments, which are computer-generated, alternative, interactive spaces that rely on the technology of virtual reality.

It is important to realize the “virtual” in these senses is not the opposite of “real.” A virtual world is a type of virtual environment, one that is especially marked by consistent existence. The key distinction of a virtual world is that it endures through time; it still exists even when one particular user leaves. Virtual environments, on the other hand, do not necessarily have this characteristic (for example, some sort of testing environment that is used only at particular times for specific purposes). The focus of this theological evaluation is the effect of virtual worlds on moral formation.

Terms “real world” and “real life” will be used to distinguish the realm of life that does not take place within the computer. This is not meant to imply that time spent in virtual worlds is not real or does not have real consequences; I use “real life/world” for ease of communication and distinction, not to enforce some duality between the two. The user remains “real” even while staring into the screen, but the term “real world/life” helps distinguish between life “in the computer” and life outside it, while acknowledging that all of life is real and has real consequences.

Finally, three terms will be used interchangeably for people who dwell in these virtual worlds. “Users,” “residents,” and “players” are synonyms in this discussion.[36] While some may argue that these are merely games and thus not worthy of careful reflection, it seems clear that they are growing in importance as an increasing number of people spend a greater amount of time engaging them.[37]

Different types of virtual reality can be defined based upon the level of immersion, which is related to the physical configuration that the user interface provides. There are three classifications: fully immersive, using a head-mounted device; semi-immersive, using large projection screens; and nonimmersive, using a desktop-computer-based system (or a laptop). This classification depends entirely on how much the user can perceive the real world while engaged in a virtual world.[38]

The nonimmersive type of virtual reality is of particular interest in this investigation because of its widespread availability and potential to influence a larger proportion of the population than more immersive forms. Another important distinction can be made here. Nonimmersive virtual reality can be divided into the ludic and the paidic. Ludic virtual worlds are “ruled-based games involving direct competition between players,” while paidic worlds “emphasize free play and creativity with less emphasis on rule-constrained competition.”[39] Paidic virtual worlds are also known as “non-game virtual worlds.”[40]

The history of virtual worlds can be narrated from two different angles.[41] On the one hand is development history. As computer technology has advanced, virtual reality has developed as different degrees of immersion and experience become possible. MMOGs (massively multiplayer online games) became popular as technology developed the necessary graphic and online capabilities. First, social virtual worlds (or paidic worlds; see above) emerged as graphics became more developed.[42] In these worlds, users navigate an avatar (usually a cartoon-like character) through the world mainly with the purpose of interacting with other users. Consalvo points to a game called Habitat as a pioneer in this field,[43] the first to adopt an open-ended philosophy.[44] This is the philosophy followed in popular games such as Second Life. Second, virtual worlds emerged with more rules and objectives, with more of a traditional “game” feel (ludic worlds; see above). Examples include Ultima Online and Everquest.[45] Another type of MMOG is the MMORPG (massively multiplayer online role-playing game), such as World of Warcraft, which enjoys the greatest degree of popularity.[46] In these games users have different types of characters to choose from (priest, elf, human, etc.) that come with different strengths and responsibilities within the game. Thematically, virtual worlds can be traced to role-playing games such as Dungeons and Dragons, which was popular beginning in the 1970s.[47] In games like this, the players assumed different roles that had certain responsibilities and abilities. The popularity of such games is sometimes traced to certain genres of literature, with J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy providing a large degree of conceptual inspiration.[48] As the technology developed, these types of games themselves became online versions, and new games based on similar themes emerged.

On the other hand is user history. The popularity of virtual worlds did not spring forth from nothing. First, video gaming has steadily risen in popularity since the 1970s. In fact, 40 percent of adults are now regular players, and the average player age is 33.[49] Also, virtual worlds allow creative individuals to construct their own spaces and objects within the world, which connects to the user-created content feature of popular social networking sites and Web 2.0 in general.[50]

Before moving on to a specific example of a paidic virtual world, one objection must be addressed. Since popular virtual reality, especially paidic virtual worlds, essentially connect people together for the purpose of communication, some might argue that this type of virtual reality is merely an advanced communications device that uses avatars and virtual environments to facilitate conversation.[51] If this were the case, these worlds would not merit much reflection beyond other communications technologies. However, there is a key distinguishing factor that must be understood from the outset. Paidic virtual worlds are not merely new communicative media, because users not only communicate using this technology but they also share common experiences that shape them as moral agents. As Sherry Turkle has observed in her extensive research on the relationship between humans and computers, “Virtual communities … allow people to generate experiences, relationships, identities, and living spaces that arise only through interaction with technology.”[52] Also, users often invest such a large amount of time in their avatars that they become extremely meaningful.[53] So, because virtual worlds not only serve as communications media but also as a source for generating experiences, they must be analyzed more carefully.[54]

Focusing on One Paidic World: Second Life

Second Life (SL) was launched in 2003. It is “a virtual social network platform that allows its residents to create alternate identities, drawing from real and idealized life,” and “possibilities are endless when in avatar form.”[55] Account creation is free, so there is no cost to basic exploration of the world.[56] There are approximately 14 million accounts, and 40,000-60,000 users are usually online at any given time.[57] Users create their own avatar, whose appearance they completely control by choosing from various options and purchasing accessories. They can interact with any avatars that they encounter. As they move through the world using basic computer navigation, they can type or speak to nearby people. If one user wants to remember another and be notified whenever the person is in SL, they can send a friend request. This helps maintain relationships between visits to the world and enables users to find one another. Travel in the world occurs in three ways: walking, flying, and teleporting, which obviously offer differing degrees of speed and interaction with objects in the world.

As a “paidic” virtual world, SL exists mainly for social interaction and creativity. Users can communicate by typing or speaking to nearby avatars, and the game allows users to create objects by shaping virtual materials and putting them together. Users who do not own land can create in the “sandbox,” but their objects will be deleted after a short period of time. Owning land provides the ability to create and maintain objects, with the quantity being dependent upon the amount of land owned. Such objects can be sold. A thriving in-world economy exists, as users purchase digital items from one another. There is an in-game currency that maintains an exchange rate with US dollars,[58] and user-to-user transactions average around $50 million each month.[59] Clearly, such a popular game is serving as a “secular liturgy” for millions of people.

Since much of the literature on Second Life was published detailing its popularity and potential,[60] there has been a backlash of sorts. Many of the accounts are actually inactive, since it is free to set one up. Many high-profile businesses have sought a presence in SL and have not found it to be a financial success. Some blame this on the fact that no one really knows how popular SL actually is.[61] Another explanation might be that users resent big-name companies intruding on their space.[62] Others see the problem extending beyond marketing within SL and doubt the viability of this particular virtual world in the future.[63] However, SL still demonstrates measurable growth, and metrics show that many still find it worth their time. As of the end of June 2011, there were just over 2.4 million signups. According to data from late 2010, almost 600,000 users use the site each week. Approximately 34,000 have active “homes” in the world.[64] There also remains a bustling in-world economy. In fact, in the first quarter of 2010, user-to-user transactions totaled $160 million.[65] So, while the future of SL no longer reaches the heights and optimism that it did five years ago, it remains a viable virtual world. And, for the purposes of this analysis, it serves as a helpful example of what a virtual world is whether it remains the leading example or not.

All sorts of behavior occur in the world. In the words of one thinker, “Cyberspace creates new classes of imagination and subjective activity. The question of what is ‘real’ and what is ‘fantasy’ as well as the question of when such a distinction should matter … has become newly relevant to the culture at large.”[66] Four types of behavior will be briefly described. The first two tend to be more “negative” in traditional moral description: “griefing” and sexual expression. The second two are more “positive”: collaboration and religious expression. The point of the following is not to construct arguments to evaluate normatively the moral status of these particular actions; instead, it is to describe briefly some morally relevant behavior, whether positive or not.

“Griefing” is basically taking pleasure from causing harm to other players.[67] One SL resident described it as “deliberately doing something that interferes with other users’ Second Life experience.”[68] This can take various forms.[69] On the one hand, the creation of offensive objects can be considered griefing (for example, large signs with real-world political slogans, or objects blocking the view from someone’s home). On the other, the creation of extremely complicated objects or self-replicating objects can be a form of griefing if it is done to slow down other people’s computers or crash the server. While this activity does not do physical harm to people, the activity can still be considered dangerous because of its negative impact on the agent and the victim.[70] There are also less-sophisticated forms of griefing: verbal abuse of other users or other inappropriate behavior such as avatars wearing offensive costumes, or nothing at all.

Sexual expression is a graphic part of Second Life. The creators of the world have made a “ratings” system, so different areas of the world allow more explicit activity than others, and users can be suspended or have their accounts deleted for violating these ratings. However, within the proper areas, sexual expression is allowed and enabled by both coding for actions and speech capabilities. Different users have different feelings about what “fidelity” to a real-world spouse means in the context of SL. Some users even marry other avatars while being married to another person in real life, though these ceremonies are usually secular rather than religious. Some argue that this sexual expression is a healthy and normal event driven by deep emotional relationships established online. Philip Rosedale, CEO of Linden Lab, insists that, “A lot of the sex relationships in Second Life are driven more by lengthy, meaningful discussions … People have sex in Second Life because they have incredibly deep relationships, not just because they want to have sex.”[71] Other expressions of sexuality have come under more fire in SL. For example, Linden Lab has cracked down on “ageplay,” which involves childlike avatars.[72] Clearly, sexual expression emerges in various forms within SL, and whatever one thinks about where the line for appropriate behavior falls, sex plays an important role in virtual worlds.[73]

On a more “positive” note, SL and virtual worlds in general contain a strong ethic toward cooperation, kindness, and mutual aid.[74] This takes many forms in SL. Some users are quick to give away objects to others, especially newer users who have less. Also, residents are typically quick to invite others to social events, even people whom they have not interacted with in the past. Experienced users also offer their knowledge on subjects such as building and other elements of the SL interface that can be difficult to master. Large groups exist solely for the purpose of helping newcomers to the world. The help often extends into “real-life” problems as well, with people sharing problems and offering advice to one another. While the negative activity often gets more publicity, the dominant ethos is one of kindness and mutual aid.

Religious expression is very common on the Internet,[75] and SL is no exception.[76] In the following, religious practice in general will be described briefly, including helpful information about ritual in general as well as specifics about different religions and their presence in SL. Then Christian religious experience in particular will be treated.

All of the world’s major religions are represented in SL.[77] An important distinction can be made between “ritual online” (religious texts, etc., that are found online but the ritual itself takes place offline) and “online ritual” (in which the ritual practice itself occurs in some sort of online space).[78] Some scholars predict that as virtual worlds become more prominent, the difference between “real-world ritual” and “virtual-world ritual” will disappear.[79] The virtual world promotes a great degree of flexibility, and religious practice in-world must be described on the basis of “clusters” to honor this difficulty to define strict boundaries.[80] Some of this flexibility is likely due to a “filtering” effect, since people may be more comfortable having their avatar participate in a wider range of religious experiences than they would feel comfortable doing in real life.[81]

In the Jewish cluster, various synagogues can be found with Jewish rituals being conducted on different levels. There is a model of the Jerusalem Temple as well as an active synagogue called “Temple Beit Israel,” which serves as a place for worship and religious education.[82] The Christian cluster includes churches such as Ruach Ministry, which offers worship, prayer, and groups for religious discussion in SL (more on Christianity below).[83] There is a large Muslim presence as well, with virtual mosques and even a reconstruction of Mecca.[84] Buddhism and Hinduism are also present, with buildings and objects suited for religious ritual, such as candles, objects for meditation, and even special mats.[85] Some of these spaces and objects are constructed by people who participate in actual religious communities in real life, while others are built for general interest.

Christianity is present in SL in various ways. First, Christian worship occurs within SL, just like the other religions mentioned above. For some people, the issue of acceptance prevents them from participating in real-world worship.[86] Second, some users essentially pray online through their avatar. “Some worship centers have animated poses for pray[er] and worship to assist avatars in kneeling, or raising their arms in praise.”[87] Third, Christians evangelize within virtual worlds as well.[88] Fourth, Christian discipleship takes place as virtual churches host Bible studies and help people with real-world problems.[89] SL residents have found ways to mirror almost everything that happens in real-life Christianity, but with greater degrees of acceptance and control within the virtual community.

A description of SL that neglects to offer some thought on future concerns is incomplete. At this point, it is important to discuss two elements of the future of these worlds: the desire for “etopias” and the impact of SL activity on “real life.”

The communities available in SL and other similar virtual worlds lead some to opine on the promise of future electronic utopias, or “etopias.” There are two ways to think about this concept. First, etopias can be seen as experimental proving grounds for innovation in the real world. [90] In his extensive work on virtual worlds, economist Castronova has argued that these worlds not only offer proving grounds, but they also will force the real world to change if it wants to retain its residents, whom Castronova believes will choose virtual living over real living in greater numbers in the coming years.[91] Even though Castronova’s predictions of a mass-exodus to virtual worlds have failed to materialize to the degree he thought they would, these virtual worlds provide tools and motives for improving the real world.

Second, these etopias can be seen as “schizophrenic utopias” that allow people to develop plural identities.[92] These communities and visions spring from the depth of experience available in virtual communities; “Friendships in Second Life were not always seen as poor approximations of their actual-world analogues: their intensity reveals that it is incorrect to assume that virtual worlds produce only ‘loose’ social ties. Many residents insisted that they had built friendships in Second Life that were as real as their friendships in the actual world.”[93] In fact, “Second Life … sells the American Dream to those struggling to find utopia in real life.”[94] In this version of etopias, the better experience is found only online, and it leads to more and more people choosing to spend more and more time online in order to control their lives in a way that they cannot in the real world.

The concept of etopias quickly crosses over into discussion about the impact of SL on real life. Here, however, I am more interested in discussing behavioral “overflow” as activities within the virtual world spill over into the real world, since a dichotomy between who a person is in the virtual world and the real world can be unhelpful.[95] “Overflow” occurs in two ways: actual behaviors in the real world, and a reconception of what reality actually is because of virtual world experience. The virtual experience is very involved; “The player must learn to act and think a certain way in order to master a game. Player activity, then, is one way video games exert an influence; the player is performing actions, not merely watching someone else perform them, and over a long time, new skills and reflexes are learned.”[96] These new skills and resources shape the way people behave in real life. This includes not only violence, but also positive aspects of sociability. In fact, some psychologists tout the usefulness of virtual experiences for helping people work on identity issues and develop stronger character traits.[97]

Experience in the virtual world also changes the way people view reality. Investing time and energy in these worlds requires adapting ways of thinking and conceiving of the world.[98] Virtual worlds alter the way that people conceive of their real-world relationships. Close relationships forged in virtual worlds, including some “family” relationships, change the user: “No longer is their world solely defined by their immediate RL families, friends and social circles, but they might begin to see how they fit in globally with others on a larger cultural continuum of expression.”[99] Addiction to virtual relationships can lead to withdrawal from real relationships (which will be treated below).[100] As SL and other virtual worlds become more and more common places for people to spend time, these future issues of etopias and behavioral spillover will only become more important, which is why analysis of ethical implications is necessary.

Moral Formation Issues

As a “secular liturgy,” virtual worlds shape participants into lovers of certain things and ways of life. This raises ethical questions beyond simply what is a right or wrong action within these worlds. Sherry Turkle has put the question well in her research into the subjective side of human-computer interaction: what kind of people are we becoming?[101] Obviously, there is debate that could occur on what is right or wrong to do in-world; for example, is it a sin to kill my neighbor’s avatar? Or, is it wrong to marry another avatar if I am married in real life? However, this section chooses to focus less on questions of ethics in-world and more on questions of the effects of in-world actions on real-life character development and community. Second Life will be analyzed not from the perspective of virtue in-world, but from the perspective of what sort of “secular liturgy” SL turns out to be, especially with the insights from Conyers in view. Though the information here could be structured in any number of profitable ways, the following uses the previous theological insights as a guiding template for analysis, thus the focus on vocation, attention, and community.

Perhaps one of the most dangerous ethical issues raised is that of control, which asserts self-will over against the concept of vocation in a theological sense. It seems rather harmless to have complete control over one’s avatar’s appearance and experience, but the danger lies in its seeming innocuousness. Games certainly provide a sense of control,[102] and in a way they allow users to “play God.”[103] Some feeling of control does occur in normal life and in a healthy way in human community, such as the control that comes from learning to play a musical instrument. However, virtual worlds offer a sense of control that requires little mastery of some sort of craft.[104] There is one exception: some users develop a great degree of skill in designing avatars and building objects, which does correlate in some ways with traditional understandings of “craft.” But this “control” that is gained by mastery of design and building can be distinguished from the general sense of control and sovereignty over the appearance and experience of one’s avatar. The first is control over certain processes, while the second is more parallel to the idea of “playing God.”

Time spent exercising this sort of control can serve to form the affections in an unhealthy way. This is likely related to each individual and the particular struggles and desires she brings to SL. So, while a person who has learned to live life without having to feel like she is in control all of the time may be able to participate in virtual worlds without having her affections shaped negatively, the exercise of complete control can be harmful to someone who already struggles with a feeling of a lack of control in his life. Seeking complete control through the virtual world can cause people either to seek more control over others in the real world or to flee the unpredictability of real life for more time in a controllable, virtual environment. For instance, a person who is able to control almost everything in their virtual world may struggle to deal with realities of community life, such as submitting to authority or enduring suffering. Conyers’s warning about the problem with power and control for forming authentic human communities comes into play here, because these virtual experiences can cause harm in the way they form people to participate in real-world communities.

Noreen Herzfeld, in an essay on the impact of technology on our views of the body, notes, “virtue ethics warns us that one’s character is formed by one’s habits.”[105] Virtual worlds yield many opportunities to develop virtue or vice, but especially in light of the insight of Conyers, it is important to ask the question of attention. To the degree that virtual worlds serve as distraction from the real world, from real responsibilities, and from real relationships, they serve to take away from the skill of attention that is necessary for developing relationships in community and for prayer. For example, the constant stimulation available in a virtual world can shape a person in such a way that they are not as skilled at things like listening attentively to other people in community. This does not mean that spending time in a virtual environment necessarily leads to distraction, and it does not mean that online relationships cannot be “real” and beneficial. Some users might enter religious portions of SL regularly in order to exercise a habit of prayer with their avatar, and others might develop great patience and empathy interacting with online friends. While such actions could contribute to cultivating attention, the general appeal of the virtual world is more of one toward distraction: get away from “First Life” in order to have a better second one. It is this posture of distraction that is problematic for developing attention, and the structure of virtual worlds tends to encourage this posture. Though exceptions certainly exist, distraction is a danger that must be raised and, surely, addressed.

Virtual communities, even admitting their diversity,[106] seem to have little in common with the robust communities discussed by Conyers, and they perhaps fall into the critique of taking the form of communities but denying the substance of them.[107] There are three particular angles that merit mention here. First, issues of suffering and alienation should drive people into life in community. Instead, virtual worlds invite people to escape: “Digital technology seems to be increasingly considered the means par excellence to liberate the self from material suffering and imperfection and to overcome the alienation of modern life.”[108] A strong concept of vocation refuses to flee the real world, even with its challenges and suffering, for another; instead, vocation requires hearing and faithfully responding.

Second, virtual worlds offer a specter of relationship but, when abused, can harm real relationships: “Friendships and relationships were the source of addiction and the thing most harmed by that addiction.”[109] Further, “Technology increasingly eliminates direct human interdependence. While our devices gives us greater personal autonomy, at the same time they disrupt the familiar networks of direct association.”[110] So while virtual worlds can seem to offer relationships and relief from suffering and alienation, they often circumvent genuine human community in doing so.

Not all online relationships, however, are abused, and evidence does suggest that online relationships can strengthen offline bonds. Based on study of the strength of online and offline networks, some argue “that virtual connectivity extends existing networks, strengthening offline bonds rather than replacing them. Certainly in socially slanted spaces, where interactions meet repeatedly over months and years, research suggests that online social systems form, through which information diffuses.”[111] Evidence suggests that the problem is not online relationships per se, but addiction to these relationships. Also, there are plenty of examples of people playing online games with people they already know in real life, and this can potentially be positive, again depending on use.[112] This angle on virtual and real-world communities, then, is more of a warning against addiction and abuse than against online relationships in themselves.

Third, some use virtual community as a substitute for real-world communities. Recalling Conyers’s definition of community, it is questionable whether these online “communities” can really count in his view: “Here is a literal picture of the community that is in any real sense men and women communing together about life: nourished and informed by virtue of their rootedness, oriented toward their destiny, and open in love toward one another—this is the succinct meaning of community, the aim of which is to provide space and give nourishment to the human spirit.”[113] While online communities are admittedly diverse, it does seem that few examples come to mind that match Conyers’s definition. Online communities lack a rootedness, are oriented not toward a calling but toward a future constructed by force of the will, and are open in love only to others to whom the individual wants to be open.

The relationship between virtual communities and real-world communities is complicated. In fact, it seems that in many cases the “active get more active,” because “people who use the Internet for civic purposes tended to become more actively involved in their community, while those who used the Internet heavily but for other purposes remained relatively disconnected from community activities.”[114] While this research did not focus on virtual worlds specifically, it does demonstrate that the outcome for real-world communities will differ depending on how particular people use and interact in online communities.

Virtual communities need not necessarily become substitutes for real-world communities. Again, it is a matter of abuse to be avoided. Recent research on communities and online relationships indicates that it is not a zero-sum game. In his monograph on presence and copresence in virtual environments, Ralph Schroeder argues:

The debates about our mediated relationships with others that have arisen with “new media” are quite revealing … Recently, for example, the debate has been about whether the Internet contributes to fewer offline relationships and the like (Baym, 2002). Most findings, however, suggest that spending time in mediated relationships, including recently in relation to online games, for example, does not detract from spending time together or decrease the level of engagement in relationships “offline” (see, for example, Williams 2006). If we think in terms of “being there together,” these debates can be put in a different perspective: It is not that purely mediated interpersonal relations should be seen as causing loneliness or being inferior to face-to-face relations and the like; rather, different media provide different possibilities for being there together in the changing landscape of interpersonal copresence. Face-to-face relationships and mediated relationships or time spent in mediated spaces should thus not be seen as a zero-sum game, despite the obvious fact that the amount of time spent in mediated relations and spaces has increased if seen in a longer-term historical perspective.[115]

The idea here is that virtual worlds and the communities that they afford do not necessarily take away from offline communities and relationships. This takes a holistic view of community and relationships: all types are held on equal footing as relationships, with no priority given to face-to-face, physical friends or communities.

Judgment on this issue of the relationship between online and offline relationships and communities pivots on how mediated relationships are evaluated. For someone like Conyers, the very idea of community entails physical presence to one another and to a physical place. For someone like Schroeder, these physical elements are less importance than the sense of “being there together,” wherever “there” might “be.” So, while much current research emphasizes the diversity of online community and potential benefits of this type of relationship, the insight from Conyers would caution against such a non-physical, non-place-oriented notion of community. For Schroeder, it is a question of different types of community. For Conyers, it is a question of true community or no community at all.

Finally, participation in virtual worlds raises the issue of family life, one of the most basic forms of community. This comes out in three ways. First and most clearly, real-world responsibilities are often forsaken for the opportunity to spend more time in-world. Second, relationships in-world can alter real-world family relationships. Virtual environments are often filled with what is called “kin play,” in which different people adopt familial roles in relation to other avatars (for example, my avatar could be the child and your avatar the mother). This can loop back and negatively influence relationships with future generations of real family members.[116] It could also be positive: perhaps compassion and patience learned in a virtual world could yield more of those traits with real family members. However, when virtual worlds offer the opportunity to “trade in” family responsibilities for other activities and even other family members, who are easier to control and interact with because they do not make the same demands as real-life family members, it can form people to avoid others. Third, virtual worlds are one part of how the computer and the Internet are changing the shape of family life. “Living rooms have long been places of leisure, but now they contain an object from the office. Living rooms have also been places for shared activities—eating, watching television, talking—but now they contain something that monopolizes one person’s attention and excludes the others.”[117]

Seeking ethical norms can be a complex task, especially when dealing with something as nuanced as virtual worlds. Lines are blurred. In the real world, it is easier to make norms such as “do not murder,” “do not steal,” and “give to the poor.” But in a virtual world, is it wrong to kill another character if that is the object of the game? What about stealing from others, if it is again within the rules of the game? And who are the poor in a virtual world that requires a certain degree of wealth for entry? The complexity of the virtual world and its relationship to the real world make such norms difficult to advocate.

Virtual worlds are not the first cause of any of the issues that serve to form moral agents. The fact is, people bring themselves to the virtual worlds, and it is their latent traits, whether good or bad, that can be intensified in a virtual environment. Newer research on the Internet’s effects on social involvement, for example, has been called a “rich get richer” model, because those Internet users “who were extroverts and had stronger social support networks enjoyed positive social effects of Internet use, while the introverts and the isolated suffered some degree of decline in social involvement and psychological well-being.”[118] So the issue is not simply “virtual worlds make people do good/bad,” but “virtual worlds provide unique opportunities and temptations that must be considered.” Any norm must avoid absolutizing but instead focus on thoughtful engagement.

One potential complex of norms would be: “Situate virtual life within the greater context of the whole human life, prioritize community, character, and virtue in the real world, and take virtual reality seriously as a secular liturgy forming desire.” The key elements are as follows. First, any ethical approach to virtual worlds must be situated in the context of the human flourishing with all of life in view, not just isolated portions. Second, the “real world” should be prioritized, because any semblance of community in the virtual world may indeed contain genuine goods, but those goods will likely emerge when the virtual community most closely resembles a real-world community. Third, virtual worlds form love and desire that then operates in the real world as agents choose and pursue goals. This cannot be ignored. However, discerning one or even a set of robust norms for something as complex as participation in virtual worlds can prove difficult.

A promising way forward can be found in looking for certain “postures.” By “posture” I mean certain desires, tendencies, and moral vision. Since the theological perspective articulated above focused so carefully on issues of formation, in this section the emphasis will be on how virtual worlds such as Second Life can shape the loves and desires of moral agents, and thus effect the type of people they become. Three postures will be expounded in connection to Conyers, though more could be added.

The “God games” element of virtual reality can have a negative effect on forming people who hear and obey the call of God, even in the face of challenge and hardship. In the virtual world, users become accustomed to a great degree of control. This runs into the warnings mentioned by Conyers’s critique of modernity, in which the desire for control reshapes relationships with others and with the wider world. Even if one does choose to participate in virtual reality, it is important to be aware of the allure of control. In the virtual world control can be enjoyed, but it can make people more controlling in the real world and less able to be part of a community that seeks to follow an external call.

Conyers’s arguments about the importance of attention in the face of potential distraction can serve to form a helpful posture toward virtual reality. This can be brought to bear in two ways. First, virtual worlds can distract people, preventing them from hearing and obeying God’s call. As Conyers noted, the call of God is often to some degree against the will of the one called, and one of the challenges is to resist distraction. Virtual worlds offer the opportunity to abandon the real world for hours at a time, including responsibilities and challenges that may be part of one’s calling. Second, people are formed by those things to which they do pay attention. Some could argue that virtual worlds are a focal point for a great deal of attention, as people spend hours perfecting their avatars, their friendships, and their environment. However, this attention can have negative consequences on moral formation. It emphasizes a focus on projecting a desired self into an environment.

Christians must grapple with the immersive nature of virtual worlds and their attraction to a growing number of people. One important posture in response to virtual worlds is one of robust counter-formation. This connects clearly to Smith’s descriptions of secular liturgies, and practical virtual reality, including but extending beyond Second Life, serve as influential, formative liturgies. Christian communities must acknowledge this, seek to understand what message is being conveyed, and work to provide a counter narrative and counter formation in order to form faithful Christians and strong communities.

Conclusions and Further Research

Virtual worlds are growing phenomena, and they demand theological engagement since they carry within them a certain anthropology. They shape people in important ways. They clearly constitute a type of “secular liturgy” that forms worshippers of a certain sort, as James K. A. Smith’s work highlights. Some aspects that can be particularly consequential for developing strong life in community are the issues of attention, control, and vocation, themes brought out in A. J. Conyers’s critique of modernity. Christian theology provides one possible perspective from which to address key issues brought up by virtual worlds, not rejecting them in toto, but evaluating them based on a robust understanding of moral formation, the centrality of character development, and the importance of strong communities.

Virtual worlds invite extensive additional research. This paper viewed virtual worlds primarily through the lenses provided by work by Smith and Conyers. The following four areas, at least, merit addressing. First, the issue of embodiedness and virtual reality needs more treatment. Some scholars see a dangerous anti-body tendency in advanced technology such as virtual reality, since these technologies can reduce the human to a disembodied mind or the sum of information in such a mind.[119] Others argue that virtual worlds include a strong sense of embodied presence and thus are not subject to such criticisms.[120] More work needs to be done to define embodiment and understand whether or not some framing of it can counter the accusation of the disembodied nature of virtual worlds.

Second, sexuality in virtual worlds will require theological analysis as more Christians spend time online.[121] This issue is tied to the understanding of embodiment in virtual worlds. New norms are necessary for the nuances of virtual sexuality and its connections to real-world relationships.

Third, the issue of religious expression in-world invites further study. On the one hand, the flexibility of religious expression in virtual worlds points to a tendency toward syncretism. Whether such practices should be viewed as harmless exploration, spiritually dangerous, or something in between requires careful study and argument. On the other hand, the influence of religious participation in virtual worlds will continue to influence religious participation in the real world, with some people choosing the virtual in place of the real, and others expecting change in the real based on positive experiences that they have in the virtual.

Fourth, education (religious or otherwise) within virtual worlds provides a fruitful avenue for research. As more institutions seek to utilize Internet technology as much as possible, presence in virtual worlds such as Second Life has become more common. Universities involved in learning activities in SL include Princeton, Harvard, Duke, Cambridge, and Oxford.[122] Learning and teaching in worlds such as Second Life will become more common, and research is necessary to discern how best to do this and to evaluate potential losses in comparison to more traditional settings.[123]

James Fenimore
jfenimore@gmail.com

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In the mid‐1990s video projector technology reached an important milestone: Projector technology became strong enough to view projections on a screen with mild ambient light and it became reasonably affordable (Kahn 1999). While video projectors became commonplace in business meetings during this time, churches began adopting them and using them in worship settings, as well. This new technological enhancement to worship gave rise to what we now call media ministry.

Media ministry began in Evangelical Protestant churches in the U.S. Most first adopted the technology for IMAG (Image Magnification), a technique used to project an enlarged visual image of the speaker. Innovative Evangelical churches like Ginghamsburg Church and Evangelical parachurch organizations like Promise Keepers combined IMAG technology with computer‐generated graphics and videos thanks to articles and reviews in trade magazines like Technologies for Worship. Their adoption of these technologies has been enormously successful; churches often credit these technological innovations for their dramatic increases in membership, attendance or participation.

The success of media ministry and the rise of worship technologies in churches have not been universal. The construction and the implementation of media used in worship services have been dominated by men. While women are not completely absent from the field of media ministry, they are significantly underrepresented. One explanation could be theological: The churches employing media ministry most successfully are Evangelical churches, which often have patriarchal theological understandings of worship leadership. However, in the first decade of the new millennium mainline Protestant churches have rapidly appropriated worship technologies; women are also less represented than might be expected. This paper explores these worship technologies and explores the question, “Do worship technologies have gender politics?”

Politics of Artifacts

Before we consider the gender politics of a particular technology we need to explore how a technology can have any form of politics. If we consider the example of a nuclear missile, one can easily understand that this particular technological artifact embodies a clear political message. But what about less politically charged technological artifacts? Is it possible that something as seemingly innocuous as a video projector could in fact contribute to the marginalization of women in Christian worship practices?

Langdon Winner has written about the ways in which “artifacts have politics.” (Winner 1977, 1980, 1986, 1993) Winner writes:

At issue is the claim that the machines, structures, and systems of modern material culture can be accurately judged not only for their contributions to efficiency and productivity and their positive and negative environmental side effects, but also for the ways in which they can embody specific forms of power and authority.¹

The “power and authority” expressed in these artifacts can marginalize others. This is the politics of the artifacts.
_______________________________
¹ Langdon Winner, The Whale and the Reactor: A Search for Limits in an Age of High Technology (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986), 120.

Winner uses an example to illustrate this concept. Robert Moses, the well‐known city planner for New York City from the 1920s to the 70s was described by his biographer Robert Caro as racist and classist, building these prejudices into the architecture of the city (Caro 1975). An example given is his construction of more than 200 low bridges on Long Island. These bridges, with their nine‐foot clearance, may seem hardly likely to evoke much thought. However, they do deserve a great deal more inspection. These bridges crisscross the urban landscape of Long Island, across all access points in and out. At the time of their construction, they effectively blocked access to Long Island by buses, which at that time required a twelve‐foot clearance to pass underneath. Another point to consider is that Long Island is home to one of Robert Moses’ prized creations, Jones Beach. Caro concludes that Moses intentionally built low‐clearance bridges in an effort to keep the poor from New York City, who could only arrive by bus, from “spoiling” his prized beach.

We could argue about Moses’ motivation or intentionality for quite some time without any definitive conclusion. However, I would suggest that if the effect of marginalization is achieved, intentionality does not matter. If a technological artifact or an arrangement of artifacts has the effect of marginalizing others it truly has politics. Winner writes:

The issues that divide or unite people in society are settled not only in the institutions and practices of politics proper, but also, and less obviously, in tangible arrangements of steel and concrete, wires and semiconductors, nuts and bolts.²

_______________________________
²Ibid., 42.

These “tangible arrangements” will be the focus of what follows. The rise of media ministry from its Evangelical roots to its mainline adoption describes the tangible arrangement of a technology that may in fact marginalize women.

We begin this exploration with Technologies for Worship Magazine, a leading resource for the implementation of media ministry in churches. This is followed by an examination of the Promise Keepers, a parachurch men’s spiritual renewal organization that was highly influential in spreading media ministry in the mid‐ to late 90s. And finally we review Ginghamsburg Church, an Evangelical church that pioneered in media ministry.

Technologies for Worship Magazine

Published in Canada, this magazine has a wide distribution throughout the United States. By the end of 1999, circulation was 5,000. In 2006, they stopped charging for subscriptions and began free distribution (paid by its advertisers) to churches and individuals. By 2008, Technologies for Worship circulation mushroomed to more than 30,000.

This was the first magazine devoted to providing resources for those involved in media ministry. Each magazine provides expert advice and techniques on a wide variety of technology subjects. In addition to the advice articles there are also product reviews that examine the latest technologies designed for use in church worship.

Many of the “pioneers” of media ministry have authored articles in this magazine over the past decade. The magazine proffers a “who’s who” in media ministry. For many years this was the only resource of its kind available. After the magazine moved from a paid subscription magazine to a free magazine sustained by advertising, the number of articles per issue significantly declined.

While the overall number of authors declined, there was no significant change to the disparity in gender of the authors. Figure 1 shows authorship gender for 10 years. It is clear that men have dominated the magazine’s authorship. “Dominated” may not be a strong enough word to describe the overall male authorship. Adding to this disparity is the fact that a significant percentage of the female authors counted were not the solo authors of the articles.

Figure 1. Male versus Female Authors of TFWM 20009

We might speculate that there simply has not been a significant number of women who have entered this technology‐driven field. The lack of women in this newly emerging field has been explicitly addressed by contributors to the magazine. In the January 2001 issue of Technologies for Worship a column highlighting some of the discussion on the magazine’s electronic bulletin board included the following comment by “audiowoman” entitled “Men vs. Women”:

I’m an up and coming audio video tech and have begun working with our multimedia ministry, which is ALL MEN. I always wanted a career in sound and have pursued some classes but need more “hands on” training. Why do men think that women can not be technically inclined, especially in this field? The guys I work with totally ignore me when we are working in the video room. And these are supposed to be born again Christian guys? Can any male out there shed any light or information on what I can do? Is there any female out there who has gone through the same thing? – ‐audiowoman

A response to “audiowoman’s” concerns by “Steve” (reprinted with typographical errors corrected):

I hope the title Men VERSUS women is not an indication of how you see the issues with regard to the techie side of Church life. It shouldn’t be a competition… but unfortunately it often turns out that way even between men. Bear in mind that we our human and that we do need the Lord’s help. I would love some of the females of our church to take an interest in the production side of things. I must admit to sometimes feeling out of place particularly when doing the sound for Womens [sic] events. Keep plugging away there and show them men how it should be done. ‐Regards Steve

This exchange between “audiowoman” and “Steve” represents an important set of perceptions in media ministry. “audiowoman” feels excluded, marginalized by the men in her church who control the technology. “Steve” is minimizing these perceptions and claiming that women are not only welcome but needed and he simply doesn’t understand why women are not volunteering to do this work.

The exchange gets at a foundational assumption that technology is the domain of men. Judy Wajcman writes:

Gender is not just about difference but about power: this technical expertise is a source of men’s actual or potential power over women. It is also an important part of women’s experience of being less than, and dependent on, men. However, it should be remembered that the construction of masculinity is a complex process. There is not one monolithic masculinity and not all men are competent with technology. Rather, technical competence is central to the dominant cultural ideal of masculinity, and its absence a key feature of stereotyped femininity. The correspondence between men and machines is thus neither essential nor immutable, and therefore the potential exists for its transformation.³

_______________________________
³ Judy Wajcman, Feminism Confronts Technology (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1991),78.

Figure 2. The "Expert Editorial Team" of TFWM

As Wajcman points out, the cultural assumption of technology as the domain of men is just that, a cultural assumption. This cultural assumption can be reinforced, as Technologies for Worship Magazine has done through its almost exclusively white male authorship and its recently named “expert editorial team” known as “6 dudes” (see Figure 2).

Next we will explore a men’s renewal group that has leveraged the cultural assumptions of men and technology to connect men with Evangelical Christianity.

The Promise Keepers

The Promise Keepers, a parachurch Evangelical organization, was one of the first to adopt visual technologies in its events. In the early 1990s Promise Keepers projected song lyrics on large screens so that the men at the events could easily sing along with the music performed by the band. PowerPoint was the presentation software of choice but soon the limitations of this software became evident. Several of the technologists at Promise Keepers left to form their own company, Grassroots Software and produced Prologue, a custom‐designed alternative to PowerPoint to work in worship settings. Another company was formed in conjunction with Grassroots Software to operate the technical equipment used at Promise Keepers events. This company, Fresh Air Media, used Grassroots software at the Promise Keepers conferences. In addition to music lyrics and IMAG (Image Magnification), Fresh Air Media used videos to introduce themes and reinforce the speakers’ messages.

The Promise Keepers does not align itself with any particular Evangelical association or denomination. In fact, it focuses on the need for a more ecumenical acceptance of all men regardless of their faith traditions. Some of the most conservative Protestants have refused to support them based on their avowed inclusivity, which as previously noted, is only an avowed inclusivity. The worship style and the choice of
speakers for the conferences indicate a much more narrow representation of the spectrum of faith expression.

The founder Bill McCartney and several other leaders of the organization come from the Vineyard churches, a Pentecostal/Charismatic association of churches. The Vineyard church movement began in 1974 by Kenn Gulliksen, a former pastor at Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa, California. Calvary Church was founded by Chuck Smith and “hippie‐turnedevangelist” Lonnie Frisbee (Chrasta 2000). The efforts of Smith and Frisbee to reach out to the “hippie” community started what some have labeled the “Jesus Movement.” From this movement sprang the Vineyard churches, an association of churches that includes McCartney’s church, the Boulder Vineyard Church.

Fresh Air Media Productions began in 1980 and is best known as the production company responsible for the Billy Graham crusades held throughout the world and often televised internationally. Greg Flessing, CEO of Fresh Air, agreed to take on the Promise Keepers conferences which at their height were held in 22 stadiums in one year. Each event was videotaped and the entire event was projected on screens throughout the stadium.

The early events in the mid‐1990s were produced using Chyron character generators. Chyrons are used by television broadcast companies to overlay graphics on live video, as in sporting events when the score and other information is produced and updated on the television screen on top of the actual video of the event. (see Figure 3)

Figure 3. Chyron Generator (source www.videcom.ca)

The Chyron generators produced high quality graphics, giving Promise Keepers events a very professional look. The problem with this technology is its highly linear nature. Designed for sporting events and tightly scripted live broadcasts, where it is known well in advance what would happen next, each screen is represented by a sequential number. If the operators know what is happening at each point of a service and what is to come next, the work is relatively easy. What happens in a worship setting such as a Promise Keepers event, however, is that music leaders often change the order of songs or the verse to be sung next, requiring a director to know or to look up the number of the next screen to appear.

Fresh Air Media Production technicians found that event attendees would make their way to the production booth and ask the technical crew questions about graphics and video production. These technicians knew that if they could produce a software solution to this problem, they would have a market for it. Over the next year Fresh Air Media Productions developed a “non‐linear worship presentation software program,” an alternative to Microsoft’s PowerPoint, a linear presentation software product with the same limitations as the Chyron’s. PowerPoint is designed to move from screen one to screen two unless all the screen numbers have been memorized and can be input rapidly. Fresh Air Media’s new program utilized a new feature implemented in Microsoft’s Windows operating system, which allowed a computer to utilize multiple screens.

The software created by Fresh Air Media and named Prologue, used two screens – one seen only by the operator of the computer and another that displayed the actual output to the screen. It allowed the operator to move easily from verse to verse in a song in a nonlinear fashion. The software was tested and perfected by using it at Promise Keepers events and then sold at the events for $99. The potential market for the product was huge: At the height of the Promise Keepers events over one million men attended, representing tens of thousands of churches.

As Fresh Air Media Productions continued to update the software, its name was changed to Sunday Plus. By 2002 there were six or seven staff dedicated to the development, customer support and product design of Sunday Plus; in order to take the next step, a new round of investment was necessary. Greg Flessing, CEO of Fresh Air Media, decided it would be better to allow this portion of his company to become independent. In June 2003 this became a reality as Grassroots software was incorporated and Lou Douros named CEO.

Grassroots focused on smaller churches with an average of 100‐150 in attendance as its primary market. The company offered the ability to install the software on as many computers as a church would like, recognizing the fact that many different people work to put a service together.

Grassroots continues to use its software at Promise Keepers events, mindful of the significant marketing opportunity. Not only does Grassroots have an audience that actually experiences the use of this software, customers can attest that the software has been tested and perfected at these events.

The Promise Keepers are an important part of the rise of media ministry. Its development of the non‐linear presentation software and the distribution of this have spread media ministry at a critical moment in the development of this form of worship expression. However, the male‐exclusive setting of Promise Keepers reinforces the masculine domain of this technology.

Anthropologist Ulf Mellström studied Malaysian auto mechanics and how they created a masculine domain around their mastery and control of auto technologies. Mellström writes:

It is clear that many men in this study create truly gendered spaces through their interaction and relationships with machines. These homosocial practices continuously exclude women and perpetuate highly gendered spheres where they form communities based on an embodied relationship of their machines.⁴

_______________________________
⁴ Ulf Mellstrom, Masculinity, Power and Technology: A Malaysian Ethnography (Hampshire, England: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2003), 192.

As the men who returned from the male‐exclusive setting of Promise Keepers bring with them the new technology of worship presentation software they develop a gendered space that excludes women. It is not that women lack technological competence; it is that men are creating gendered spheres that exclude women. Promise Keepers constructs this gender‐exclusive sphere via its mission to renew spirituality in men. In effect, women feel excluded from the realm of technology.

We turn now to an Evangelical church’s adoption of this technology and its creation of a specific design process for the development of worship media.

Ginghamsburg Church

Ginghamsburg Church may not have been the first church to adopt these worship technologies, but they were the most prolific in promoting the technology to others. The church has offered conferences in which they teach others both the use of the technology in worship and their worship design process. They credit their success to both their adoption of these technologies and their process of designing worship. The story of Ginghamsburg reflects a familiar story in Evangelical Christianity. It has the key elements found in many
of these stories: a charismatic leader and a dramatic, rapid, against‐all‐odds scenario for growth.

The church was declining for as long as anyone could remember and by the mid‐1970s only 20 people attended services there. The people of Ginghamsburg were proud of their service in raising and training pastors, but they seriously considered closing the church’s doors until a pastor named Jim Morreli was appointed there. He grew the church to 80 people in his 3‐4 years and by the time he left, he was employed as full‐time pastor at Ginghamsburg. Michael Slaughter, a graduate of Asbury Theological Seminary, who had only worked as a Youth Pastor before this assignment, was then hired as the next full‐time pastor in 1979. The focus of the church at that time was on the youth and Michael Slaughter brought skills in that ministry area. In 1981, Michael Nightlen was hired as a youth pastor to assist at the church, and the youth program grew dramatically under his leadership. The youth brought their parents to worship and before long a new space had to be built for worship. In 1984 the Discipleship Center was built behind the original church building to provide space for the growing congregation.

Before long the church began offering multiple services, each of which drew “standing room only” crowds. In the latter half of the 1980s each of the services was geared to a different demographic. One was more traditional while one was geared toward twenty‐somethings. There was some shifting in service style, but eventually the church moved toward one form of service offered at multiple times. During this time the congregation grew mostly through the youth and children’s programs. The congregation decided to build a new building, and a site was chosen a few miles away in Tipp City, allowing for expansion and plenty of parking.

The new worship space is 56,000 sq. ft. and cost $5.6 million to build. It was completed in 1994 with the first service held on Christmas Eve. Ironically, the space was not designed to use a projector; this was an addition added late in the building stage. This is evident in skylights in the sanctuary that needed to be permanently covered to decrease natural light and allow the screen to be brighter.

Another late addition to the building construction was a media room to house the projector and other media equipment. At first this was to be on the balcony level but was moved one level higher to a storage space, allowing more room for people to sit in the balcony. This removed the video technicians from the midst of the congregants.

The projector was purchased as a reject from Bill Gates in 1994 and was so large that a crane was needed to lower it into place. It was designed to be used in an airconditioned room, as it was prone to becoming very hot. They tried to use fans to cool the projector but this caused dust to be blown onto the lens, cutting the lifespan of the bulbs. The projector is a 2,500‐lumen projector then valued at $65,000. The church, however, purchased the projector for less than $50,000.

Figure 4. Interior of Ginghamsburg Church (Fenimore 2004)

As the congregation moved into the new building Michael Slaughter was developing a team of individuals to help design worship each week – The Design Team. Slaughter gathered together a large team, nearly a dozen people, mostly senior staff at the church. This group became an unwieldy group to manage. Slaughter put his Administrative Assistant, Debra Welder, in charge of the Design Team. Welder was far more than an administrative assistant; over the years, Welder became a trusted part of the inner circle called the Lead Team that provided much of the managerial and organizational direction of Ginghamsburg. In 1995 church attendance was averaging about 1,000 people per weekend.

During the first year of its use in worship, the video projector was basically used to project song lyrics (which were white text on a black background), and IMAG.

The Design Team was needed because the use of the technology required a new level of coordination. To integrate technology into worship required planning and a group to ensure that the visual media and the message for the day coincided. During May 2004, I was allowed access to the entire worship planning process at Ginghamsburg. For three weeks I was included in all the gatherings that produced the services for the week. The following is a detailed description of the methodology used to produce a worship service at Ginghamsburg (Fenimore 2009).

Planning sessions begin with the Lead Pastor, Michael Slaughter, presenting to the team the “seed idea” that will become the service. What I discovered is that often the day before the team gathers, Michael Slaughter and Kim Miller, the Creative Director, meet and begin to work on the sermon idea. They do some of the brainstorming in advance so that the team has something more substantive with which to work. This doesn’t seem to be a formal structure but it occurs frequently.

Design Team

The first gathering of the team usually occurs on Wednesday morning. While I was there the team consisted of: Lead Pastor, Creative Director, Senior Media Producer, Graphics Producer and Band Leader. The process always began with a discussion of the previous week’s worship services. The discussion was mostly concerned with technical issues and issues that concerned the flow of the service (how the message was presented and received).

Then attention was turned to the coming service. Michael Slaughter (or the preacher for that week) lead a discussion of the theme for the message. The scripture was read and an outline of the sermon and the main points was presented. There was never much discussion about the content of the sermon. Slaughter seemed to be seeking feedback that confirmed his direction and I never witnessed anything other than positive reinforcement. Slaughter’s presentation of the material would take quite some time, often longer than the actual sermon.

Discussion was then opened to the group to brainstorm ways to connect songs, graphics and videos with the message. This was a true, open process that allowed people to share ideas and have them discarded or embraced as potential elements of the service. All the media (visual and auditory) were to be illustrative of the message idea presented.

At some point in the conversation, usually after several hours, Kim Miller, Creative Director, would write on the whiteboard the following: “Series,” “Word,” “Felt Need,” “Desired Outcome,” “Theme,” and “Metaphor/Look.” Each of these headings was carefully filled out. The Series referred to the particular ongoing sermon series. This was something new to Ginghamsburg. During 2003‐2004, the team had moved toward a series of worship services tied together with the same look and a common overarching theme.

The next task was for Kim Miller to decide which songs would be used for the weekend. By this time a number of suggestions had been made and the group (or just Kim Miller and the Band Leader) would make the final decision. Also a layout of the service was produced so that it was clear where all the different elements discussed would be. The group would then break up and continue with their individual tasks. The Media Producer began to work on any video shoots needed, the graphic designer began work on graphics for the service including what will be considered the “main graphic” which is the graphic used multiple times on the screen and on the print materials. This usually includes the Theme phrase as well. The Band Leader starts rehearsals with the music chosen and may need to call in other musicians depending on the selections.

Micro Team Meeting

Between the meetings Kim Miller worked with each member of the group. She considers her role to be a translator of the lesson Michael Slaughter wants to communicate and they, in turn, work to translate that to the congregation. As Creative Director, Kim Miller dominates the process because the team never regroups as a whole to discuss a change of direction or clarity on the specific elements.

The only other subsequent gathering is a small one, which has a very defined purpose. The Micro Team gathers on Friday and includes the Lead Pastor, Senior Media Producer and Graphic Artist. The purpose of this gathering is to hear a more detailed outline of the sermon the Lead Pastor has finished by this time and then to determine what graphic elements will be used to illustrate the sermon. Some graphics have been prepared at this point and those are shown to see if they are acceptable to the Lead Pastor. This is a much briefer meeting than the Design Team meeting and is focused on illustrating the message with graphic elements.

Saturday RunThrough

The media producers are very busy often very late into Friday night preparing the elements required. They collaborate only rarely, focusing instead on their individual tasks at hand. There are usually one or two videos every weekend that can each take 15‐20 hours to produce and last only a few minutes in length. There are 40‐50 slides used each week during a service and dozens more that may have been produced but go unused. Each slide contains lyrics to a song, words of a scripture, a picture used in the sermon, or anything else that might be projected for a given service.

On Saturday afternoon, approximately two hours before the service begins, there is a gathering of the media producers, Lead Pastor and Technical Director (who will run the technical crews all weekend) for a Run‐Through. For this meeting they gather in an office around a computer and view the slides prepared the day before. Michael Slaughter will let the Technical Director know when slides should be projected on the screen by providing some cues.

Following the Run‐Through there is a one‐hour rehearsal so the musicians can warm up; this is also the chance for the sound and video technical crews to walk through the service.

Saturday Debrief

After the second Saturday evening service a large group gathers that includes all Design Team members, the Sound Engineer and several technicians, including the Technical Director. The meeting is designed to elicit feedback about any problems that have surfaced. Although much of the discussion is centered on technical or “flow” issues, I did experience one meeting in which Michael Slaughter expressed his feelings that the sermon did not work well. He opened the door for criticism and several people offered some suggestions for what might work better. The sermon was modified the next day in response to the concerns first raised by Slaughter. The process ends on Wednesday as the Design Team gathers once again to reflect on the service of the previous weekend.

The process of constructing the worship service needs careful attention. Media ministry, as we have seen in the case of Ginghamsburg Church is not about a particular technology (artifact) as it is a series of technologies that form a sociotechnical system. This sociotechnical system produces the media that is used in the worship service. The gender politics of this media is rooted in this sociotechnical system. Deborah Johnson who has written about feminist sociotechnical systems writes:

My analysis has indicated that we will not find artifacts that alone determine feminist social relations, but we will find artifacts that help to constitute (or get in the way of constituting) feminist sociotechnical systems. In other words, artifacts can constitute feminist social relations in combination with the other components of a sociotechnical system. Most important my analysis shows the importance of artifacts and the built world in constituting gender‐equitable relations. Thus, artifacts and the built environment must be part of the feminist agenda because they make feminist goals harder or easier to achieve.⁵

_______________________________
⁵ Deborah Johnson, “Sorting Out the Question of Feminist Technology,” in Feminist Technology, ed. Linda Layne, Sharra Vostral and Kate Boyer (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2010), 34.

In order for Ginghamsburg’s process to be a feminist sociotechnical system there must be intentionality in the process and the design of media. The responsibilities Kim Miller as Creative Director takes on is that of ensuring just that. She plays an integral role in the sociotechnical system. She alone is the one person that oversees this process at each crucial step. Without her the design process would be fragmented and lack consistency.

Miller has shared that she personally ensures that there is gender and racial inclusivity throughout the design process. This is accomplished by viewing every graphic and video projected on the screen and visually inspecting it to ensure that it reflects the values they hold for inclusivity. This intentionality is what Johnson refers to as the “feminist agenda” although Miller would never view it in these terms.

But this raises a deeper question, “Can someone who does not claim to be a feminist promote or encourage a ‘feminist agenda’?” I believe that this is possible. The key is language. The ideals of a “feminist agenda” may be more widely held and affirmed than the phrase “feminist agenda.” Miller is part of growing change within Evangelical Christianity. This change in some segments of Evangelicals reflects an acknowledgement of the increased role of female leadership in the society and the church. These societal changes in gender roles have led to renegotiations of authority within the structure of the church, some have defined this as soft‐patriarchy (Wilcox 2004). The label “feminist” still represents a more liberal agenda than that endorsed by Evangelical Christianity; however, the ideals of inclusivity and equality are growing stronger.

Conclusion

So we return to the original question “Are Worship Technologies Gendered?“ I believe that they are indeed gendered. But they don’t have to be. In other words there is not enough evidence to point to essentialism – or inherent gender traits “built‐into” the technologies. That would really move us in a direction of technological determinism that I cannot affirm. Rather the “arrangement” (Winner 1980) of technologies and who makes that arrangement has a major impact on the gendering of the technologies.

Media ministry needs to be viewed as a sociotechnical system. By removing the focus on any one person or individual technology we can begin to see how gender politics operate. Two factors are vitally important to this: who is constructing the media and what process is used to construct it. Although there are women who are employed in the field of media ministry, the field is dominated by men (Fenimore 2006). The quote from the blog of Technologies for Worship Magazine in which “Steve” welcomes women to join the tech team needs to move one step further. Active recruitment of women is needed, rather than simply a passive acceptance of their presence. Women need to have a significant role in the creation of worship media to have an impact on the gender politics of this sociotechnical system.

However, the inclusion of women in the construction process is not the only change needed. A process of the development of this media needs to seek to mitigate gender politics intentionally. In the case of Ginghamsburg it is the intentionality of the process and more importantly the intentionality of the Creative Director, Kim Miller, which produces more gender‐inclusive visual media.

These two steps: recruiting women and developing an intentionally gender-inclusive process are important steps to changing media ministry. Worship technologies are still perceived as a male domain or “Boy’s Toys.” What is clear is that they don’t have to be.

Works Cited

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Chrasta, Michael J. “The Religious Roots of the Promise Keepers.” In The Promise Keepers: Essays on Masculinity and Christianity, ed. Dane S. Claussen, 99‐119. Jefferson: McFarland & Company, Inc., 2000.

Fenimore, James. “High‐Tech Worship: Digital Display Technologies and Protestant Liturgical Practice in the U.S.” PhD diss., Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, 2009.

—.”High‐Tech Worship: Gender Politics and the Appropriation of Multimedia Technology for Christian Worship.” In Gender and Technology, ed. Deborah Johnson, Mary Frank Fox and Susan Rosser, 87‐101. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2006.

Johnson, Deborah. “Sorting out the Question of Feminist Technology.” In Feminist Technology, edited by Linda Layne, Vostral, Sharra and Boyer, Kate, 21‐58. Urbana, Illinois: University of Illinois Press, 2010.

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Wajcman, Judy. Feminism Confronts Technology. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1991.

Wilcox, W. Bradford. Soft Patriarchs, New Men: How Christianity Shapes Fathers and Husbands. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004.

Winner, Langdon. Autonomous Technology: Technics-out-of-Control as a Theme in Political Thought. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1977.

—.”Do Artifacts Have Politics?” Daedalus 109 (1980): 121‐36.

—.”Upon Opening the Black Box and Finding It Empty: Social Constructivism and the Philosophy of Technology.” Science, Technology & Human Values 18, no. 3 (1993): 362‐79.

—.The Whale and the Reactor: A Search for Limits in an Age of High Technology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986.