No Avatar

 

As the attendant fitted the VR headset to my head, I slipped back in time 150 years. The avatar, Rose, invited us to follow her across a dusty street, where a passing horse-drawn carriage splashed through a puddle and people in 19^th-century dress moved to and fro about their business. We ‘entered’ a salon where we eavesdropped on conversations between the now-famous, then-obscure, French impressionist painters.

We heard their struggles to be taken seriously as they sought to break from traditional art subjects – classical or biblical themes – and create their masterpieces ‘en plein air’ – outdoors. As they sought to portray the real world as they saw it, the way the light played on rippling waters or trembling leaves.

Ghostly avatars glided round me, visible so that I could avoid bumping into them. Only Don’s avatar bore his name, so we could experience this amazing exhibition together, sometimes even finding one another’s hand to hold.

As Rose led us across a slightly raised plank set over a stream, she slipped and splashed her long skirt and buttoned boot into the water, exciting Monet’s avatar to cry out to the others to notice the way the light played on the flying droplets. I stepped tentatively ‘onto’ the plank, cautious not to fall in myself, surprised to find my foot found, not a raised plank at all but the solid ground of the room in which we moved.

It was, indeed, an immersive experience. Reflecting on it this morning, I am thinking of how often Jesus told his followers to keep alert and be aware. How often we move through life, seeing it through the VR headsets constructed from the ideas we adopt from social media and news, from friends and family. Today, Lord, I ask you to remove the headset which blinkers and blinds me, so that I can perceive the truth of your word as you express it in your world and through your children. Humbly, I extend my hand, Jesus, to take hold of yours, that you might lead me forward, through the dusty streets, the splashing puddles, and the distractions of this day.

I am so grateful that you, Jesus, are no avatar, ghostly and unreal. So grateful that when I reach out my hand, yours is there to guide, to reassure, to encourage me.