Siri has no sense of reverence

Yes, if you sat anywhere near me two Sundays ago in church, you heard my phone start talking to me. Not a polite buzz. Not a discreet little chime. A full-volume, male-voiced version of Siri announcing that I had just received a text.

I will admit it. I had been following the Bengals-Bills game during the worship service. It was a tight contest, played in the snow in Buffalo, with Wyoming Cowboy–alumni-demigod Josh Allen doing what Josh Allen does. The lesson I learned was simple: never take a phone you bought the day before to church. The button that muted my old phone now, apparently, does the exact opposite.

You know the moment. The sudden silence. The quiet awareness that every set of eyes in the room has shifted in your direction.

My wife reacted with impressive speed and authority, removing the phone from my hands and silencing it immediately. Those 4.2 seconds of Siri speaking shaved at least eight years off my life. If you thought I had a few gray hairs before, now you know where they came from.

What stayed with me afterward was not the embarrassment, but the response. Nobody scolded me. Nobody pointed. Nobody laughed out loud. The only comment came later when my friend Ray leaned over and quietly said, “When did we become the old ones here?”

It turns out most of us are walking around with a small, private collection of moments just like that, the kind that make you freeze for half a second and hope the floor might swallow you politely.

Hopefully, I am not the only one who has ever climbed into the wrong vehicle in a parking lot, only to have some unfamiliar smell or sound wake up the portion of the brain that had gone briefly offline. Or started telling a story and realized halfway through that you had already told this exact story to these exact people. Maybe you have walked confidently in the wrong direction, then pretended you meant to turn around all along.

There are the social misfires, as well. Waving back at someone who was very clearly waving at somebody else. Greeting a stranger with enthusiastic confidence because you were absolutely certain you knew them.

Then there are the quieter embarrassments. Whispering something you believe to be private, only to realize you are speaking at full volume. Clicking “reply all” when your intention was to complain quietly to a trusted coworker, not all six of your bosses. Arriving at the hardware store and standing there with no memory of why you came.

As awkward as these moments feel, there is something comforting in them. Most people do not respond with judgment, but with understanding. They smile because they have been there, too. Fortunately, life is not middle school. We no longer keep mental scorecards or rush to embarrass someone further. Instead, we laugh, shake our heads and someone nearby puts a hand on your back and says, “Oh, I’ve done that.”

Someday, if there really is a big book in Heaven where all of our lives are recorded, I hope mine is not a massive list of my stupidest moments, careless comments or poorly timed phone alerts. I hope it comes down to how I reacted when others found themselves in those same moments, whether I rolled my eyes or showed grace, whether I laughed at someone or laughed with them, or simply offered a knowing smile.

Because if there is one thing we all seem to share, it is that we are doing our best, fumbling through quiet moments, hoping Siri stays silent and trusting that kindness counts for more than perfection. I have certainly given my friends and neighbors plenty of chances to show that kindness to me.