Over the past two decades, we've seen an explosion of immersive technologies and social media, as companies compete for our attention with more and more innovative digital experiences. Today, this technology is reaching a whole new level, as social media evolves into the "Metaverse" under the direction of Mark Zuckerberg.

Nearly twenty years ago - before Facebook, Twitter, or even smartphones - one of my grad school theology professors, Sr. Timothy Prokes, FSE, wrote a book called At the Interface: Theology and Virtual Reality, warning about the risks of so-called "virtual reality." If there was cause for some caution then, there is even more today. Some Catholic voices in recent days (e.g., here, here, here, and here, for example) have expressed their concerns about the rise of virtual reality, and I'd like to voice some concerns of my own.

By its very nature, Christianity is incarnational, embodied. While some world religions and Christian heresies purport to offer an escape from the suffering of bodily existence through a disembodied afterlife, the Gospel proclaims a God who entered into our bodily existence and redeemed it, living out the demands of human life with divine love, giving spiritual meaning to our struggles in the flesh. The ultimate promise of the Christian life is not a body-less afterlife, but "the resurrection of the body and life everlasting." Our life in the body, then, is at the heart of the Christian life.

For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive recompense, according to what he did in the body, whether good or evil. (2 Corinthians 5:10)

[A]spire to live a tranquil life, to mind your own affairs, and to work with your [own] hands, as we instructed you... (1 Thessalonians 4:11)

"The flesh is the hinge of salvation" (Tertullian, De res. 8, 2: PL 2, 852). We believe in God who is creator of the flesh; we believe in the Word made flesh in order to redeem the flesh; we believe in the resurrection of the flesh, the fulfillment of both the creation and the redemption of the flesh. (Catechism of the Catholic Church 1015).

It seems to me that the greatest risk of the Metaverse and similar virtual reality technologies is that we can fail to fully live the life that God has given us here in the real world, preferring a digital utopia to our own fallen-but-redeemed physical world. Instead of "building the kingdom" in the real world through the grace of God and the sweat of our brow, we can settle for a digitally-induced dopamine rush in a universe of our own imagination. This sort of temptation is not at all new, nor is it unique to this kind of technology: We can avoid the discomfort of reality by immersing ourselves in social media, video games, television, movies, books, or simply our own imaginations. As technologies become more and more immersive and pervasive, however, we are increasingly able to live our entire lives connected to the internet, but disconnected from the real world around us.

There are, of course, many ways in which digital technology can help us enhance, rather than escape, our ordinary lives. Throughout the pandemic, for example, many of us benefited from the opportunity to connect with loved ones and to watch the celebration of Mass through platforms like Zoom and Facebook. I personally have appreciated the ability to work more easily from home and to participate in meetings without a long commute. Catholics are not called to be anti-technology Luddites, but to make prudent use of the technologies that are available.

And yet, digital experiences can never truly replace the physical experiences of real life. Digitally interacting with a loved one through Facetime, Facebook, or even the Metaverse will never be as good as hugging that person. Watching Mass on a live stream (or whatever immersive digital experience may be possible in the future) will never be as good as physically going to Mass and actually receiving Jesus in Holy Communion - nor can a digital experience of Mass fulfill our Sunday obligation.

The Christian life calls us to embrace the challenges of life in the real world, infusing our ordinary lives with the grace of Jesus Christ. When the Son of God became man, he lived thirty of his thirty-three years hidden from the public eyes, fully immersed in his simple life as a Jewish carpenter. This was not time wasted, but time redeemed: By doing ordinary things out of love for God the Father and for his neighbors, he gave divine meaning to simple human activity. The Catechism of the Catholic Church affirms, "The hidden life at Nazareth allows everyone to enter into fellowship with Jesus by the most ordinary events of daily life." It goes on to quote Pope Paul VI during his visit to Nazareth in 1964:

The home of Nazareth is the school where we begin to understand the life of Jesus - the school of the Gospel. First, then, a lesson of silence. May esteem for silence, that admirable and indispensable condition of mind, revive in us... A lesson on family life. May Nazareth teach us what family life is, its communion of love, its austere and simple beauty, and its sacred and inviolable character... A lesson of work. Nazareth, home of the "Carpenter's Son", in you I would choose to understand and proclaim the severe and redeeming law of human work... To conclude, I want to greet all the workers of the world, holding up to them their great pattern their brother who is God. (Catechism of the Catholic Church 533).

If you're looking for an immersive experience that is truly worth your time, then, I'd recommend that you set aside the Metaverse and try the Universe.