alternative reality

I suppose that many of use inhabit alternative universes from time to time. A century ago, they existed mainly in literature, in theatre, and in children's games.  Today, adults play role-playing games in alternative worlds, too, and computers exist to provide immersive experiences where you can be an Orc or an Elf; can defy gravity, or can explore the stars, or, Grand Theft Auto-style, can visit mayhem on a city without serious consequences.

But many people inhabit seemingly alternative realities without using such tools.  The fanatical campaigner sees every event through the lens of their particular concern. You don't have to be clinically paranoid to worry about unwelcome stalkers or over-zealous government security agencies: many people's perception of the extent of monitoring is surely wide of the mark.  One person's crazy obsession is another's real and present reality.  The way the western education system has developed means that users of technology often have less than no understanding of how it works - that is, their ideas are actually wrong.

And as a member of the Christian community, this bothers me, because we seem to inhabit a reality far removed from that of our neighbours.  It is not simply that we talk in jargon - every shared interest group does that.  It is that when you strip this away, you still have a group of people whose view of the world is truly other, compared to that of those outside - those to whom we aspire to explain the reason for the hope we have ...   This is a community which is profoundly odd compared to those with whom we rub shoulders with every day.

Was it always thus?  Is this an inherent feature of being called out and different?

I'm not sure.  It seems as if many of today's Christians are far more at odds with today's secular society than they have been for a mighty long time.  Sure, when Europe was largely co-extensive with Christendom, there was a very widely shared view of a whole heap of topics - both among those we'd today identify as 'believers' and among those with a more tenuous or nominal connection with the Church.  Today, Chrisitans generally embrace a kind of metaphysics which is pretty much incomprehensible to outsiders: to many, it must be considerably more weird than, say, The Force of Star Wars' Jedi Knights. 

Does this matter?  I'm inclined to say yes:  we can construct all sorts of realities in our heads;  we can reinforce them by rehearsing them together; we can embrace the most exotic metaphysics; we can build castles in the air.  But that fervour doesn't make things true; it doesn't automatically make us closer to God; it sometimes seems to get in the way of our participating in his mission; it can distract us from truly following Christ; it really runs the risk of alienating the very people who need to see - and experience - the most excellent way.