We live in a culture that seeks to keep us in a constant
state of excitement. When things stay the same, we lose interest in them. We
are not always willing to hang with things for the long haul. Our short
attention spans numb us to the sometimes long, slow, seemingly unchanging circumstances
of life.
We grow impatient with slow recovery from illness or
surgery. We want those who have experienced loss to “get over it” and get on
with life. We grow disinterested when asked to pray for people and we see no
change in their circumstances.
We bore easily. Familiar prayers are often said without
conscious awareness of the words spoken. Do we really want just our daily
bread? Most of us are not content with simply enough for today—we want the
whole loaf. We want excess, more than what we need. Yet we pray for just enough
every time we pray the Lord’s Prayer.
We see catastrophic events in the media and we are
riveted by their unfolding—for a short period of time. Then we lose interest and
shift our attention to something newer and fresher and more sensational. When’s
the last time you gave a thought to those affected by Hurricane Katrina? And
yet, how many people are continuing to struggle with the changes wrought by
that storm almost ten years later?
Even names on a prayer list lose our attention. It is
easy for us to forget that behind every name, there is a person, a family, a
life, an oftentimes long journey of uncertainty and woundedness. Compassionate
care for others requires a commitment to attentiveness.
The desert fathers and mothers recognized the danger of
acedia, which is a restless boredom. Evagrius Ponticus describes acedia as
making “the day seem fifty hours long.” One of the ways to combat acedia is to
persistently stick with something. Abba Moses said this, “sit in your cell and
your cell will teach you everything.” In other words to fight the temptation
for constant variety, be still and stay in one place.
Our hunger for variety and stimulation leads us to a
rootless existence. We cannot grow deeper in our relationship with God if we
have yielded to the temptation of acedia. What penetrates our hearts is not a constantly
changing kaleidoscope of stimulation but the slow, steady, persistent, faithful
practice of stillness. This penetrates our hearts the way persistent drops of
water will create indentions on stone. When one practices stillness over a
period of time the familiar becomes cherished, not despised. Patience replaces
boredom and there is room for compassion to grow and flourish.