Go Westbound, Young Man
Welcome to the Weekend Digest. In these brief Saturday posts, I’ll give you:
One Opinion to Consider
One Thing to Read
One Comment That Got Me Thinking
One Song, Poem, or Picture to Remember
One Opinion to Consider
My wife and I were recently discussing a trend that we’ve seen and read about in Gen-Z: A general lack of enthusiasm for driving. We know college students in our community who have no car and no apparent plans to get one. They seem far more content than we were at that age to ask for rides, and (presumably) just go nowhere if the ride doesn’t happen. This isn’t anecdotal. Gen-Z’s lack of desire for vehicular independence is well documented.
Much political coverage of this trend focuses on economics (do Gen-Zers simply have less money for gas and insurance than their Millennial forebears?) or environmental consciousness. But I think there’s a more compelling explanation that accounts for other things as well: Risk-aversion. According to researchers like Jean Twenge, one of Gen-Z’s most consistent behavioral patterns is an avoidance of risk. It’s why Gen-Z have less sex and drink less alcohol than previous generations (great, right?!). Gen-Z are extremely conscious about the possibility of suffering, and their lives tend to reflect a careful, calculated approach to decision-making. Put simply: Many Gen-Zers would rather live with lower risks and more generic pleasures than take a chance on something a lot more rewarding, but more dangerous.
It can be hard for Christians to see the downsides of Gen-Z risk aversion. Particularly because so much of our view of the world focuses on cultural sins like sexual immorality, the thought that Gen-Z might be less willing to embrace independence feels like a good thing. But this is misleading. Sensible wisdom is one thing; inertia is another. Proverbs identifies extreme risk avoidance not with wisdom, but with character flaws such as laziness (Prov. 22:13). What’s more, every Bible reader is invited to embrace the gifts that God gives us in our youth, and to leverage our energy and health into happy, productive work and relationships (Ecc. 11:9).
Driving is not necessarily holy. But it’s a deeply empowering skill. It empowers taking initiative in work and friendship. Driving is a kind of civic liturgy; you are forced to learn that life and society work through patience, adherence to rules, and more than a little bit of deference. And of course, there’s a particular kind of pride and satisfaction in owning a space that means something to you. These joys come with risks. Yes, you might get in an accident. Yes, you might get pulled over. These aren’t fun experiences, but they too are sanctifying in their own way.
Life is not meant to be void of risk. It’s meant to be lived. And in most situations, there’s a little more life to live if you can get behind the wheel a bit.
One Thing to Read
on honoring our elders in a world much different than theirs: The problem is this: in every era, the young have had certain epistemic advantages—a fresh perspective, energy and enthusiasm, and an openness to new possibilities—while the old have had others—mature judgment, a much greater store of both personal and factual knowledge, and countless lessons learned at the “school of hard knocks.” Both have needed to listen to one another, but the greater advantages of the old have entitled them to asymmetric respect. Our phrase “tried and true” sums it up: because a society’s elders have simply had time to try more, they probably have more truth. But what if “tried and true” no longer holds? What if that which was previously tried has long since been discarded as obsolete?
The superiority of age, after all, has not held in every past era. In times of revolution, the young rise to leadership, because they have come of age in the new milieu; they understand how the world works under its radical new conditions, and are able to speak and act effectively within it. The old are stuck applying forms of speech and action to contexts where they no longer have meaning and can gain no traction. Like Rip van Winkle stumbling into his home village after the American Revolution, they wonder why everyone is speaking nonsense and treats them like a fool. But what, then, if we were to become stuck in a state of permanent revolution, with technology changing so fast as to render earlier habits and norms irrelevant?
One Comment That Got Me Thinking
From Brian Villanueva, on “You Can Stick Up for Fundamentalists Without Repeating Their Mistakes.”
From one disaffected fundamentalist to another, this really speaks to me. I've spent a at least 6 years being frustrated at my evangelical co-congregationalists who, for example, think Plato is Satanic, Augustine is Catholic, Darwin id dangerous, and reading any of them might condemn your soul. (Oh, and the Earth is about 10,000 years old, or whatever number Ken Ham says this year.) They take the Armor of God passages so literally it's as if they think they're actually going to hold up a physical copy of the Bible (KJV only of course) to fend off the Devil. And they really take offense when I point out that King James had rather secular and unholy motivations for commissioning it…
Something I've had accept is that the taking of passages literally can also be a strength. Their faith is strong enough to believe waving their Bible around actually could fight off the Devil. Is mine? Do I have that much faith in the Jesus Prayer? And how am I any less fundamentalist then? Is my intellectualized and traditionalized faith better than theirs? I certainly think many of them have the faith of children, but that's what Jesus says we're supposed to have. Every part of the body comes to the Lord in a slightly different way; it's the destination that matters not the path. This is an idea I've tried to imbue in my children as they've seen and heard my frustration over the years. Why don't I leave? Because these people really love the Lord and each other. What more can you ask for?
I'm reminded of a quote from Peter Kreeft's Plato Lectures (the fundamentalists wouldn't like the lectures or the quote, but I have it framed in my house next to my icons): "In the end, everyone gets what he most loves, either God or something else." That's the difference between Heaven and Hell -- C.S. Lewis' Great Divorce in 1 sentence. I may think their way of expressing it is foolish and ignorant, but my even my most fundamentalist fellow congregants love God deeply.
One Song, Poem, or Picture to Remember
Thomas Gray’s “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” (1750) is one of my favorite poems. I wonder if Gen-Z would be strengthened by the encounter Gray describes between himself and a cemetery of obscure souls. The poem asks: Does the fact that no one else in the world knows these names mean they wasted their lives? Gray’s answer is no.
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,
The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
If Mem'ry o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where thro' the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre.
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page
Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flow'r is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.
Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their hist'ry in a nation's eyes,
Their lot forbade: nor circumscrib'd alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd;
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
I completely agree with your assessment of why GenZ is slow to get driving - and here's another reason: much of the stuff they like to do, or need to do, is at home. Video games, streaming, social media, social groups like Discord, even work and school sometimes, - all from home, or at least much more than in the past. This is a huge factor in not having a strong desire to drive.
Thanks!