Holy Smallness

On not being able to control the world.

I’ve been feeling very small of late. It’s not a feeling I enjoy. Theologically, I know it’s true. I’ve spent enough time meditating on the enormity of the university and our place in it to know it’s true. I love wandering the mountains precisely because it makes me realize how small I am.

What I’ve been feeling is different. This sense of smallness isn’t wonder-inducing; it’s the realization that I have less control than I’d like in this world. It shouldn’t surprise me, but, well, it does. Why?

The Controllability of the World

There is a sense in which the world is routine, predictable. Natural phenomena give us this sense. The regularity of the day/night cycle; the consistency of the seasons; the location of the planets. Beyond this, the consistency of the natural world and its behaviors (we call them “laws” of physics!). These lend the sense that the world is understandable, predictable, reliable. And in many ways, it is.

But it’s exacerbated by the subterranean beliefs we inherit as those born into a modern world. Max Weber summarizes the condition quite well in his essay, “Science as a Vocation” (1919). What separates us from the premodern is not that each individual quantitatively possesses more knowledge about how the world works, but rather that we possess the “knowledge or belief that if one but wished one could learn it at any time.” Or to put it differently, this means “that principally there are no mysterious incalculable forces that come into play, but rather that one can, in principle, master all things by calculation. This means that the world is disenchanted” (last emphasis mine).

Weber was a true child of the Enlightenment. The world could be and must be known. The only black boxes that exist are those we have yet to open. The time for transcendent mystery is over.

Hartmut Rosa expands on this idea in his book The Uncontrollability of the World. He argues that there are four dimensions of this modern controllability project (p. 17):

1. We seek to make the world visible, and therefore knowable (think of the scientific enterprise);

2. We seek to make it physically reachable and accessible (think of technological developments);

3. We seek to make it manageable (think of bureaucracy, regulations, the administrative state, and technology developed to make the word manageable);

4. We seek to make it useful for us (think of markets and economic developments).

The very structure of the world we inhabit is orientated toward this goal. We plod through life at a rhythmic pace, depending on countless institutions, operations, and interactions to function as expected. And the project seems remarkably effective—most of the time.

Cracks in the Plan

Of course, the world is not a machine. For all its regularity, we still find ourselves losing control. Despite our best planning, things break, or don’t work, or turn out differently than we expected. We are limited—we can’t process every variable and possible outcome.

And then there are the brute forces that simply overwhelm our capacity, such as natural disasters. There is not a single thing we can do to stop a hurricane. The only control we have is whether we run away or not. Or the onset of a mystery illness that has no known cure. Or, to bring us back to the catalyst for this post, when powerful people and governments act in ways that are harmful, the average citizen is left feeling quite small indeed. We may write letters, protest, and shout on social media to reclaim some sense of agency, but at the individual level, our action is little more than a personal coping mechanism.

We find we are quite small, indeed.

The realization of smallness, when coupled with the vaunted claims of controllability proffered by modernity, can produce serious anxiety (cf. Rosa on this). Humans have always navigated anxiety, but the promises of controllability in this modern age have left us far less prepared for navigating the feeling of smallness.

Learning to Be Small

We all cope with being small in different ways. Some of us find catharsis in doomscrolling and rageposting on social media. Others of us turn to activism. Others to research and data collection (that’s me). Some of us just tune out, or try to numb the feeling as much as possible.

What I’m learning is that the solution to our smallness is not found in attempts to overcome our smallness. It’s found in embracing a holy smallness.

On the one hand, this means coming to grips with our lack of control, and our fundamental smallness by seeing the bigness of God, and recognizing his firm control over all. We were never meant to be small-full-stop. The triune God made us to live in dependent interaction with him. He has always intended to be the one who holds all things together, who meets our needs, while we live in humble, joyful dependence on him.

I love Psalm 50 for this reason. God criticizes Israel for treating their sacrifices and worship like transactions. Instead, he outlines the logic of holy smallness:

  “Call on me in a day of trouble; 
        I will rescue you, 
            and you will honor me.”     
    -Psalm 50:15 CSB

Our job is to rest in his protective care. His job is to provide it for us. It’s glorious. And I’m here for it.

This doesn’t mean that we’re passive lumps on a log. Choosing action and embracing holy smallness are not mutually exclusive. I would argue that the latter is what makes the former possible. When we embrace a holy smallness, we can act in confidence, with meaning and significance—rather than frenetic anxiety.

There will come a time in every experience of smallness where we realize we must act. Where we recognize what is both possible for us to accomplish in our spheres, and what is necessary for us to accomplish in those same spheres. When it is clear to us, we must act accordingly.

All while embracing a holy smallness.

After all, who knows how our all-powerful, all-good God might use our tiny action for great things?

—Till next time.