In contemporary society our Adversary majors in three things: noise, hurry, and crowds. If he can keep us engaged in “muchness” and “manyness,” he will rest satisfied. Psychiatrist Carl Jung once remarked, “Hurry is not OF the Devil; it IS the Devil.” (Richard J. Foster, Celebration of Discipline)
As we approach the season of Lent, I find Foster’s words authentic and challenging. There is so much about our lives today that is hurried and harried. With all our labor-saving devices and opportunities for recreation, we seem to have less time to enjoy and experience the fullness of life than our forebears. I remember the family in which I grew up having time to stop and share the goodness of life in ways many of us can’t seem to manage today. Without those labor-saving devices and with fifty hour plus workweeks for my father, my family found (made?) time for all kinds of activities that allowed for the mystery of “being” to unfold in common space and time.
I can remember such things as fishing trips (our favorite family pastime); sitting on the front porch after supper with my mother peeling a stalk of sugarcane and cutting it into pieces for us to chew; waiting with mouths watering for watermelon fresh from the farmers’ market to be split open and eaten with shameless abandon; churning homemade peace ice cream and waiting for it to “set” before we could partake; and parking on Main Street and just “watching all the people go by” as we munched on popcorn purchased from the “Five and Ten Cents” store.
I also remember those private moments I had as a child to enter into the mystery of God’s many splendored creation. I would take time to lie on the ground and watch all the “creepy crawlers” going about their business within their universe of one square foot. Or I would lie on my back and watch the lazy clouds pass by and dream of what it would be like on the other side of those clouds or take delight in the changing shapes as castles were transformed into bears, and bears into turtles, and turtles into dragons. And then there was my special realm of magic—the woods behind our house where my brother, friends, and I would play for hours day after day. But often I would slip away by myself to discover my own connection with the mountain laurel, pine trees, rocks, and forest creatures. At such times common time seemed to flow into and from eternity.
But today we find (make?) little time for “being” because we are so busy “doing.” (I am amazed at how busy people are telling us how busy they’ve been!) And if we are not “doing,” then we can’t enjoy “being” because we feel guilty for not “doing.” Now in all this I’m not suggesting that you or I become members of the “navel-staring” society of the universe. We live in a world which needs our sacrificial commitment and compassionate sharing. What I am suggesting is that our “doing” will be far more grounded in wisdom, love, and serenity if we learn how to “be.”
I am struck by the number of times in the Gospels we are told that Jesus was off by himself engaged in prayer and meditation—with “being” before the God he called Abba. No one could accuse Jesus of holding membership in the “navel-staring” society of the universe. His teaching, healing, socializing, and active engagement with the power brokers of his day would exhaust any of us. But if our Lord who was the unique Son of God found it necessary to stop and ground his “doing” in his “being,” then how much more is such a discipline/blessing necessary for those of us who call him Lord?
Howard Clinebell, a pastoral care specialist, once said, “Don’t let the URGENT things push aside the IMPORTANT things in your life.” I believe that is sage advice as we begin this season of Lent. Idle hands may at times be the devil’s workshop, but busyness not grounded in wisdom and love, and doing not flowing from authentic being may indeed be the devil himself.
