Generations of Chronological Snobbery
We all have those shows. The old shows from an earlier, simpler time of life that sweep us up into their nostalgia. Inevitably, mixed in with classic jokes and wistful feels, are the cringey moments. The moments that remind us of what used to pass for acceptable and has become outdated. The moments where you look at your friends with eyes that read, “That didn’t age well.”
I’m thankful for the many ways we grow and advance as a society and culture. I think particularly of shows that degraded already oppressed and marginalized groups and ways in which we’re trying to do better. And yet, underlying our cringes are some assumptions that put us on dangerous ice in how we see the world.
C.S. Lewis called this “chronological snobbery”—the idea that all our present convictions are superior to convictions held in previous generations. In Surprised by Joy, he writes, “Our own age is also ‘a period,’ and certainly has, like all periods, its own characteristic illusions. They are likeliest to lurk in those widespread assumptions which are so ingrained in the age that no one dares to attack or feels it necessary to defend them.”
In a post-enlightenment world in which we can (or think we can) explain so much more than our forebears, chronological snobbery is second nature. Technology and culture change so quickly in our globalized world that ideas can become outdated in a matter of years, if not months. Ideas can go viral on social media and subsequently become “problematic” in days.
I’m not suggesting that we accept things uncritically or refuse to grow in our understandings of the world. I am suggesting that perhaps we’re not always moving forward the way we assume. What if, sometimes, we actually move in the wrong direction from our ancestors?
I was struck by my own chronological snobbery as I stood in awe of the Sistine Chapel. Even as one who unashamedly “doesn’t get art,” I was joyfully entranced by Michelangelo’s vivid imagination. That is, until I noticed Michelangelo’s depiction of hell as a fiery place full of demonic creatures and tortured humans. While I think we shouldn’t be too quick to uncritically accept all the medieval views of heaven and hell, I was convicted by my own previous enlightened dismissal of Michelangelo’s vision.
The strong current of chronological snobbery we live in is nearly unavoidable. Rather than simply reacting against it and refusing to change the way we see anything, what if we simply named and acknowledged this current? Five years from now you will look back on some of your current convictions with disdain and embarrassment. And you’ll probably be justified in some of that embarrassment! But some of that disdain will be unmerited, the same way it is now.
The wisdom of Ecclesiastes 1:9–11 is helpful here:
What has been is what will be,
and what has been done is what will be done,
and there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there a thing of which it is said,
“See, this is new”?
It has been already
in the ages before us.
There is no remembrance of former things,
nor will there be any remembrance
of later things yet to be
among those who come after.
No meaningful advancements we make are truly new. While technological advancement can be helpful, we’ve seen that it can just as often hurt our society. There have been people and cultures throughout history who have pursued justice, beauty, and community better than us. We tend to forget about them or discount them for other modern sensibilities they offend, but the same will eventually happen to our generation.
I don’t think the solution to chronological snobbery is an equally common cynicism about our present era. I think humility allows us to simply see our generation as a small part in the bigger story God is writing to make all things new. We get to ask what faithfulness requires of us in this age, without puffing ourselves up by sneering at our ancestors. For we can be sure that those same sneers will be directed at us in the not-so-distant future.
One place we see chronological snobbery play out is between different generations. I am a millennial. I am equally confounded by Boomers and Zoomers. I don’t understand why Boomers feel the need to announce their every opinion on social media. I don’t understand why Zoomers would prefer exchanging snapchats over meeting someone new for lunch. And yes, I realize that these are both caricatures of their respective generations—blame it on my millennial tendency toward laziness.
Jokes aside, there is a concerning rift between generations in the American church. Younger Christians often look at older Christians and write them off as out of touch with the times. Older Christians often look at younger Christians and bemoan their uncritical complicity with culture. The tragic thing amidst both groups’ cynical dismissals is that these generations desperately need each other.
The world is desperate for a church that speaks the language of the surrounding culture without capitulating to it. It desperately needs fresh expressions of Christ’s incarnate love tethered to historic orthodoxy. It desperately needs the wisdom of long-time Jesus followers shared with the passion and empathy of new believers.
Scripture affirms the gifts of both older and younger Christians. Job reminds us, “Wisdom is with the aged, and understanding in length of days” (Job 12:12). Conversely, Paul exhorts a young Timothy, “Let no one despise you for your youth, but set the believers an example in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity” (1 Tim. 4:12).
As with so many conflicts it is our imperceptibly insidious pride that keeps us cordoned off from one another. Acknowledging that we have something to learn from each other requires a humble awareness of our limited understanding. It begins with admitting that how we see the world is a subjective perspective shaped by our narrow experiences. Our generation isn’t special. As with any generation, we get some things right and some things wrong.
Because we are constantly made aware of other generations’ shortcomings, we ought to begin by looking for anything we can affirm in one another. As we humbly seek out the gifts of another generation, we might find something we didn’t even know we were looking for. When we place ourselves in a posture of learning and receiving from each other, we will become aware of our own blind spots.
Once we’re aware of our own blind spots and have been enriched by another generation, we are then able to gently point out the blind spots in others. But this will never work if we simply think “they” just need to become more like “us.” Only when there is a reciprocity of giving and receiving can we help others see what they’re missing.
As a thirty-three-year-old man, most of my friends are fellow young adults. But one of my dearest friends has become a woman in her sixties named Jenny. Jenny is one of the first people I reach out to when I need prayer. When we get a chance to talk and pray together, I make sure that nothing threatens to cut our time short. As much as I’ve been blessed by Jenny’s wisdom and invaluable life experience, I’ve been shocked to hear her express how much she learns from me.
One cross-generational friendship is a start, but I recognize how much further I still have to go in respecting God’s gifts in those both younger and older than me. This is no small task ahead of us. Yet in Jesus we have a savior who perfectly honored his parents and gave counter-culture dignity to little children. May we, in him, humbly strive to be the intergenerational family that he died to create.
Adam Salloum has served on staff with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship for over ten years and currently serves as the Area Director for South Carolina. He’s a graduate of Gordon Conwell Theological Seminary. You can follow him on Twitter.