Rediscovering the Virtue of Slowing Down
I made a commitment to myself to ask people I meet and reencounter in this almost/not-yet post-pandemic life, “In what ways would you like your life to be different after the Pandemic is over? What have you learned?”
When I moved from Seattle to this ex-burb of Olympia, WA, I longed for a slower than city pace lifestyle. And I felt it almost immediately in the natural environs of what would become my knew home. Nearly 7 years later I speed down the country road, my work-ministry feels just as competitive - “Get more parishioners,” “Do more good,” “Accomplish greater things,” “Appeal to more people,” “Increase the donor base”, etc. - my work days are filled with questioning whether I have done the right things or accomplished enough, completed enough tasks, and my family life is tries to cram in quality time and chores into smaller and smaller chunks of time governed by my cell phone calendar.
Some days I feel really good about what I accomplish. I’ve checked off a large number of tasks, tackled the dragons in my daily agenda that I’d rather run from or put off, and I can even point to a couple of things done that I know have eternal value. But I’m fortunate if I have one of those days per week. Mostly, it seems life is just running to try to keep up, and finding at the end of the day that keeping up is mostly illusive and less rewarding than it promises.
The answer to my own question, “How would I like my life to look post-Pandemic,” is one that exemplifies the virtue of slowness.
In the technological age we don’t value slow. We want fast - faster computers; cell phones that do more more quickly; smarter watches that keep up with us and make us move to keep up; cars and commutes that take less time; faster food (!) and faster weight loss; earnings that come quicker and purchases made more quickly; worship services that take less time; church programs that meet all our needs now; a deep personal spirituality within us born in us almost instantaneously.
When I look at the handiwork of the Creator, I see the value of gradual, patient, humble, sometimes purposeful-sometimes accidental, growth and development.
I look at the good parts of life and I want them to slow down... I want my children’s childhood to linger; the many beautiful moments with my spouse to fill more of my days and memories; play music, write more, really listen to music, read good authors more often, tend to the gardens of my home and the church regularly, and (for God’s sake!) clean up my the messes of my many delightful projects.
I long for more time spent in ministry conversing about God and pondering God’s presence/absence, will/freedom, grace and demands. to walk with my congregation into the deepness of the Holy, the goodness of virtue, the beauty of wholesomeness, and the joy of life in abundance; to see not only the terrain ahead, but feel the grass between my toes and listen to what the birds say; I want to sit as pastor in homes on the porch or by the hearth to laugh or cry and to study, sing and pray. I want the Eucharist, the Daily Office, meals together, and working together to characterize our congregation’s common life more than meetings, emails, programs, and “putting out fires.”
I think that’s what I want my life to look like - more like the Creator’s handiwork and less like whatever the latest is that society demands and sets up as of highest virtue. After all, in a society that is this fast paced, what is prized today is obsolete and valueless tomorrow.
Yes. This is absolutely idealistic. But yes: this is also realistic and possible. I think the “trick” will be the same as it always has been: listening to that still, small, eternal voice of God calling to come to faith, hope, and love, while refusing to obey the din of other voices clamor-demanding allegiance; saying “Yes” more often to God and “no” more frequently to idolatry.
