It was already going to be a busy day, and I needed to get in to work, but I decided to have a quick look at Twitter/X over my morning coffee. I am not a super active user, so I was initially happy to see plenty of notifications. That usually meant that someone with a bigger following than me had shared something I had written or mentioned one of my books. A nice start to the day.
Not this time.
I was not being applauded and recommended. Instead, someone had written a critique of a piece I’d published a few months earlier, and the Twitter/X community was circling around the two of us ready for a #CatholicTwitter battle.
My first thought was, I don’t have time for this. I’d assumed some keyboard vigilante was trumpeting nonsense and needed to be put in their theological place—however uncharitable, this is not an unreasonable assumption on Twitter/X—but I already had more than enough on my plate for that day.
Still, I clicked through to the critic’s piece and was forced to admit that this person knew something of which he wrote and, more than that, was writing in good faith. I didn’t agree with everything he said, but he was intelligent and honest and we probably agreed about more than he realized.
What busyness forced on me that day became something I could do with more intention going forward.
This was good news and bad news. Of course, it is good news when one’s critics are honest and intelligent. The bad news was that engaging his critique was going to take a lot of work.
As I fretted on the drive to work, it occurred to me that there might be a much better solution than staying in the office late to write a rebuttal, which might just generate another rebuttal that would need further rebutting (ahh, the glories of social media!).
I host a weekly podcast and am always looking for content. And this guy seemed like someone you could talk to. What if I invited him on the podcast to discuss his critique of my article? That way I wouldn’t have to write a rebuttal, and I would have a podcast episode. But it would do more than save me work.
Part of the trouble with Twitter/X is that something can grow and fester while you ignore it. I had no idea what would be awaiting me when I got to the office in 20 minutes, let alone if I waited for the end of the workday.
This plan would allow me to nip the situation in the bud. I only needed to write one tweet: “Dear @markjohn316, thank you for engaging with my article. Would you be interested in joining me on my podcast to chat about the issues you raise?” By the end of my workday, instead of itching for a fight, #CatholicTwitter was anticipating a conversation.
And, wonder of wonders, my interlocutor accepted. Turns out he didn’t write his critique looking for a Twitter war either. The ensuing podcast went so well that I had him on again, along with a colleague of his, to discuss his street ministry. If I had had more time, I might have just dived in and fulfilled the logic and expectations of social media. What busyness forced on me that day became something I could do with more intention going forward.
I learned an important lesson. And, perhaps best of all, I made a friend.
