How Not To Become Dog Food
“Do not give what is holy to dogs, or throw your pearls before swine, lest they trample them underfoot, and turn and tear you to pieces.” — Jesus of Nazareth, Matthew 7:6, 12–14. The Gospel for the Tuesday of the 12th Week in Ordinary Time.
You might be able to hear the tone in Jesus’ voice getting a little lower and more serious. It’s as if he slows down and speaks more distinctly to be sure the disciples understand how important this is.
“Look, y’all. Don’t engage in dialogue with people who don’t have good faith. They’ll drag you into debates and destroy you because they don’t care what you have to say beyond using it for fodder for debates. Before you know it, you’ll lose they thread and become like them.”
This teaching is contrary to the business model of social media. Someone gives a ridiculous hot take. People get worked up and quickly respond, “I’ll show them!” The algorithm notices the debate is getting a lot of views, so it pushes it forward to people who would otherwise have no interest. Before you know it, everyone is fighting until someone starts the process all over again.
Everyone has pearls, and we’ve all cast them before swine.
If Christians followed this teaching of Jesus, their presence on social media would undergo a radical transformation. Groups like the Catholic “radtrads,” Orthodox “orthobros,” and general “theobros” thrive on casting pearls. They also seem to enjoy playing the roles of wild dogs and boars. Create a Latin or Greek name, usually one of a saint with a pugnacious reputation. Upload a crusader or monastic avatar. Follow people online who they disagree with. Post a contentious hot take and hope it instigates an online battle that’ll get the juices flowing. It’s like an electronic drug.
It’s tempting to take the bait. That hot take is unbelievably absurd, and somebody must reply with logic and clarity. If left uncorrected, other people might believe the foolishness.
But has anyone ever changed their mind thanks to an internet debate? How many times have you said, “Oh! Now I see the light thanks to that hot take artist”?
Instead of convincing anyone, the debate heats up. Your “correction” gets “corrected,” and you can’t let that nonsense go unanswered. Other people get involved, and before you know it, you’ve spent all day arguing with someone whose opinions you don’t respect. You became dog food, and the razorbacks crushed you.
Avoiding this trap, according to Jesus, is simple. Don’t cast your pearls before the swine. Don’t tweet. Don’t click send. Don’t press that little arrow button.
It doesn’t matter how right you are and how wrong they are. If you give what is holy to the dogs they will devour you. You have no one to blame when the wild pigs trample you after feeding them with pearls of wisdom.
“You seduced me, Lord, and I let myself be seduced; you were too strong for me, and you prevailed” (Jeremiah 20:7). It’s common for people of faith to believe they, like Jeremiah, have been drawn in by God and feel compelled to feed the “swine” with spiritual, moral, and political pearls of wisdom.
The seduction, though, was not on God’s part. They’ve become captivated by their own pearly views. When they attempt to feed the “dogs and swine,” it backfires. The “unclean animals” trounce and humiliate them.
Consider the curious case of Bishop Joseph Strickland of Tyler, Texas. Often described as a firebrand, he’s more like a Twitter troll who nurtured his reputation by starting online controversies. Over the years he has used social media to criticize Pope Francis, support the pope’s opponents, and even accuse Francis of “undermining the Deposit of Faith.”
Strickland parlayed his social media visibility to make a name for himself among reactionary Catholic circles and beyond. He opposed the COVID-19 vaccine, prayed at the Jericho March, and led a protest at the L.A. Dodgers game which is over 1,500 miles from his own diocese.
The bishop’s visibility got the attention of the papal nuncio, who reportedly rebuked him for his social media misuse and ordered him to put the kibosh on implying the pope is unorthodox. More recently, the Vatican ordered an apostolic visitation into allegedly potential administrative and financial misconduct. All his supposed pearls resulted in his own downfall.
Bishop Strickland and his supporters deny all wrongdoing, and the controversies have not stopped his tweeting. Nevertheless, his tarnished reputation and difficulties he is undergoing serves as a cautionary tale. Think before tossing out your pearls. They might not be as tasty as you imagine.
Of course, we all face times when we must say something. The famous quote misattributed to Edmund Burke, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing,” is true. However, the Serenity Prayer used by many 12-Step programs adds an essential caveat.
“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference.” It might take little more than a moment to discerning the difference between what we can change and what we can’t. In that moment, taking a breath and letting the impulse pass might save you from getting trampled underfoot.
In that moment, it might help to write out that brilliant rejoinder, bask in its glory, then delete it. Get it out of your system and in a few minutes, you’ll probably forget the whole thing ever happened.
The Biblical book of Proverbs 26:20–21 makes a sage observation, “Without wood, a fire goes out; without gossip, quarreling stops. Charcoal keeps the embers glowing, wood keeps the fire burning, and troublemakers keep arguments alive.”
The text goes on to sound a warning that may have inspired the one Jesus gave. “People who set traps for others get caught themselves. People who start landslides get crushed” (Proverbs 20:27).
This teaching of Jesus is Gospel because it free us from being “right” all the time. More than that, it liberates us from the compulsion to let people know how “right” we are and how “wrong” they are. Keeping our pearls to ourselves can often be the wisest course of action. No one has ever regretted not sending a tweet.
