COMMENTARY: When More is Less

c. 2000 Religion News Service (Tom Ehrich is a writer and computer consultant, managing large-scale database implementations. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C.) (UNDATED) Thanks to a snowbound week of hard work, I have learned the first parts of Web design: stitching together Web pages and Web site, dropping in content, and charting […]

c. 2000 Religion News Service

(Tom Ehrich is a writer and computer consultant, managing large-scale database implementations. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C.)

(UNDATED) Thanks to a snowbound week of hard work, I have learned the first parts of Web design: stitching together Web pages and Web site, dropping in content, and charting the path from page to page.


Now comes the hard part: actual design. That is, making the page come alive, using shape, color and white space to attract the viewer’s attention, and laying out words and images in a manner that communicates.

It’s the difference between learning the techniques of painting and actually applying paint to canvas and creating art.

Most Web sites don’t try for art. Most, in fact, seem pretty marginal affairs to my eye. Some are like those parish newsletters that crowd words onto paper in one massive block of gray _ and are discarded unread except by the choir. Some Web sites throw cascades of noise at the viewer, like a TV ad on Super Bowl Sunday. Some are like mazes _ you can get in, but you can’t proceed or get out.

But then I come to a site that is done right. You can tell from the instant it fills the computer screen: This site _ and the company or organization behind it _ knows what it is doing.

Personal taste, of course, is difficult to argue. But it seems to me that in Web design, as in writing, less is more, simplicity in presentation is better than complexity, a little color stands out from white space, and the best sites, like the best writings and sermons, start with an understanding of the audience and not with what the designer, writer or preacher wants to say.

That isn’t because we are a rushed, instant-soup culture that needs everything dumbed down and speeded up. Less has always been more. Look at how few words Jesus used, compared with the volumes written in response to him.

I remember wading through systematic theology and thinking how little was communicated but how many words were employed in saying it. The authors seemed to be showing off for other theologians, parading their erudition, rather than talking about God. I have sat through lengthy sermons that took eons to say nothing. Some were essays read aloud, others book reviews, others emotional firestorms. But then I hear a preacher who knows how to tell a story and to connect life and God, and I can tell this preacher has something to say.


Theologian Henri Nouwen once preached to the rich and powerful by introducing his mentally handicapped friend Bill and simply standing on the stage beside him, their closeness revealing grace.

Wordiness is a hiding place. Dense packaging is a hiding place. Parading one’s expertise is a hiding place. Knowing how to cite Scripture isn’t the same as knowing what Scripture has to say. Designing a Web site that shows off programming skills might score points at the water cooler, but if the viewer clicks away because the site is ugly, loud, slow or obscure, what’s the point? Academics scoff at Robert Frost because his poetry doesn’t employ dense classical allusions or obscure images. But when a person wants to comprehend life _ which had better be the purpose of any art, or else it’s vain _ does she sift through an academic favorite’s dense layers of allusion, or picture Frost’s fork in the road?

When the fame of Jesus spread throughout Galilee and began to change lives, what were they saying about him? Simple things, like how he healed the sick, how he spoke with authority, how he brought the dead to life. We know _ and I’m sure they knew _ that these simple things had profound meaning. But that meaning wasn’t discovered by turning Jesus’ words and deeds into dissertations or multi-volumed theologies.

The meaning was discovered _ then and now _ by coming into his presence and daring to experience the story itself. That is hard, disorienting and often painful work. It requires focus, discipline, self-awareness, other-awareness, submission and reflection.

It is always easier to talk something to death, as if a torrent of words _ or showy programming _ could protect one from listening, seeing and responding.

DEA END EHRICH

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