A warning against idolatry (of your phone)

A Reflection for Friday of the Third Week of Lent

Find today’s readings here.

Reflecting on today’s readings, I was immediately struck by this line: “We shall say no more, ‘Our god,’ to the work of our hands.” The reading is referring to worshipping carved idols, the kind that Old Testament prophets are always warning against. As I read, I imagined someone holding a small carved idol in their hands and praying to it—and realized that it was the exact same posture I have when holding my phone, sometimes for many hours in a day.

This phone is “the work of our hands” not only in that it is made by humans, but also in that it is the device I use to do so much of my work: editing videos, promoting podcasts, WhatsApping with Roman sources. Someone once said to me, “Tell me how you spend your time, and I will tell you what you worship.” How often is it really my work that I am worshipping?

The first reading today, the one warning against idolatry, comes from the Book of Hosea, one of my favorite books of the Bible: It tells the story of a man who takes back his unfaithful wife, an extended metaphor for our own fractured relationship with God. It’s also the source of perhaps my favorite Lenten hymn, also called “Hosea,” though readers might recognize it by its lyrics: “Come back to me with all your heart; don’t let fear keep us apart…”

Both today’s readings and the hymn employ nature imagery to highlight what our relationship with God could be—“Again they shall dwell in his shade/ and raise grain; They shall blossom like the vine, and his fame shall be like the wine of Lebanon.” The hymn says, “The wilderness will lead you/ to your heart where I will speak.”

This Lent, in an effort to get off my phone, I’ve been trying (and often failing) to go outside and pray with a printed book of prayers each morning before I allow myself to scroll on any app. I fail about 50 percent of the time, but I know that this time outside in nature, in prayer, changes me. It helps connect me to God through his creation rather than staring down at my own. And that brief moment of connection permeates my day, helping me access my interior quiet (“your heart/ where I will speak”) even as work piles up and algorithms try to suck me in.