Of the many great innovations that have been invented on these shores in the name of American liberty, one stands out for having brought spiritual formation and inspiration to millions of American citizens. It is an institution that has often roused the populace to patriotic emotion in times of war, and kept them informed and educated in times of peace. It can be credited for fostering a collective sense of duty during crises of public health, helping to establish a clear division in the public eye between what is virtuous and vicious, respectable and dishonorable.

I am speaking, of course, of the vast network of institutions that we refer to as the American free press — that is, the American media, an industry that so often profits off the emotions of a gullible and easily-manipulated public. The spiritual formation and patriotic inspiration which this industry has brought to the American public are worthy of a closer examination and evaluation, in light of a clear understanding of what it really means to be a good and healthy society.

But let me be clear: I am not about to make any claims about the information that is so generously shared by the media. My aim is not to make any judgments about what counts as information or disinformation. Do vaccines work? Do masks work? Is COVID-19 real? Did the Democrats steal the election? Did Trump collude with Russia? Is America fundamentally a racist country? This is all relatively superficial. Rather, the deeper issue at stake is what spiritual effectthis whole matrix of institutions has upon the souls of the American public, regardless of the content they present.

In a political context that increasingly represents a house divided against itself, it is no surprise that the media too is split along the same lines of division as the rest of the nation. Where rational discourse should prevail, American discourse is reduced to little more than an unending contest of shrill and outraged protest, thanks in large part to the ease with which collective emotions are expressed and controlled by the media.

What purpose does a three-hour rant on Hannity serve for most of us, other than sensationalism? Does the more respectable tone of the commentators on NPR justify their equally sensationalist scrutiny of all that their political enemies do and say? As a perpetual game of lambasting and ridiculing one’s political opponents, the media has no productive function but to produce and profit from outrage, under the pretense of providing information and inspiration to the American public.

One could make a whole host of criticisms of this institution. A postliberal philosophy, for example, might criticize the very ideal of free speech and the free press as a danger to any publicly agreed-upon vision of the political common good. More specifically and to the point, a truly Christian worldview might evaluate the free press in light of what it understands to be an essential dimension of the universal calling of all human beings: prayer, or what the mystics call contemplation.

On this point, the Desert Fathers might have some wisdom for us, a wisdom which is certainly applicable to the epidemic of outrage and sensationalism that is perpetuated by America’s media institutions. St. John Cassian, in a treatise “On the Eight Vices” included in the Philokalia, could not be clearer about the obstacle that anger poses to the life of contemplation:

So long as [anger] dwells in our hearts and blinds the eyes of the heart with his somber disorders, we can neither discriminate what is for our good, nor achieve spiritual knowledge, nor fulfill our good intentions, nor participate in true life; and our intellect will remain impervious to the contemplation of the true, divine light.

Make no mistake: Cassian does not hesitate to include in this condemnation of anger, even justified anger. Thus he writes:

Listen to what St. Paul enjoins: ‘Rid yourselves of all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, evil speaking and all malice’ (Ephesians 4:31). In saying ‘all’ he leaves no excuse for regarding any anger as necessary or reasonable.

Furthermore:

Leaves, whether of gold or lead, placed over the eyes, obstruct the sight equally, for the value of the gold does not affect the blindness it produces. Similarly, anger, whether reasonable or unreasonable, obstructs our spiritual vision.

The point is not, of course, that anger is inherently evil — indeed, according to the Catholic tradition, anger may even be morally praiseworthy when one is directly faced with grave injustice. Rather, the point is to identify the near occasion of sin which even justifiable anger presents to the soul on most occasions. Cassian labels even reasonable anger a “vice” not because it is inherently evil, but because of the great danger which it poses to contemplation, an essential for all Christians. Thus, even when one can name all kinds of reasons to be upset about something (and the media gives us so many reasons!), it is almost always better simply to abstain from anger and maintain a peaceful, prayerful attitude. 

The teaching of John Cassian, along with a host of other Desert Fathers, is really quite intuitive and simple, though a kind of pride often motivates us to seek ways to rationalize our anger. Anger is a distraction — and in the life of prayer, which is so central to the Christian vocation, distraction is the main enemy. Indeed, much of the writing of the Desert Fathers could be understood as a collection of advice on combating distraction in prayer.

The essence of prayer is a watchful attitude of the heart, a disposition of alertness and attentiveness to the silent revelation of God. So many mystics, in both the East and the West, have observed the importance of silence as a condition of prayer: God always speaks, but we cannot often hear him because we clutter our minds with the noise of all our thoughts, our imaginations, and our emotions. Anger is a particularly noisy emotion, and angry thoughts are particularly noisy thoughts. As such, it is a direct assault on the faculty of watchfulness or attention that is so essential to prayer.

What, then, would a modern-day St. John Cassian think of the modern media, which so often normalizes and institutionalizes anger by addicting its listeners to the thrill of never-ending sensation? No doubt he would see it as nothing less than a plague on the human race, an obstacle to the opening of the spirit to enlightenment of divine contemplation, which is humanity’s highest good.

Thus, when faced with the temptation to indulge our irascible appetites in the addictive opioid of the media, the best and simplest advice we can take from the Christian tradition is: Don’t. Just turn off the news, and refuse to be triggered. Instead, “go into your room and shut the door, and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you” (Matthew 6:6).