Slowing down to save the world and ourselves

I’m attempting to follow a different kind of diet these days, one far more demanding than anything involving food: a diet of slowing down.

After more than half a century of social activism – the highlight of it being a decade as diocesan Social Justice and Advocacy consultant – I’ve come to realize that the best thing I can do both for myself and for the world is to slow down.

It’s not an easy thing to do. The need for change in our society is as urgent as ever. So many concerns call out to our conscience for action: poverty, homelessness, the climate crisis, development aid cuts by government that will hurt our developing world neighbours. And yet, I’ve seen, in myself and with other activists, that if we approach activism with nothing but a burning sense of urgency, we risk burning out quickly.

Powerful forces in our culture also make it tough to slow down. Modern technology enables people to reach us – and us to reach them – 24/7. We’re continually bombarded by messages and media from morning to night that anesthetize, overwhelm and distract us

There’s also a deeper issue at play here. Why do we often feel threatened or uncomfortable by a quieter, more reflective life? Is it because when we slow down our real inner issues begin to surface – issues that often are painful?

Trappist monk and mystic Thomas Merton put his finger on the nub of the issue: “There is a pervasive form of contemporary violence to which the idealist most easily succumbs: activism and overwork. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything, is to succumb to violence. The frenzy of our activism neutralizes our work for peace. It destroys our inner capacity for peace. It destroys the fruitfulness of our own work, because it kills the root of inner wisdom which makes work fruitful.”

The key point made by Merton is the need for “inner wisdom,” a vital element of our lives as people of faith. Rest is actually a faith-based tool paving the way for spiritual renewal. We need look no further than the life of Jesus, who balanced prayerful contemplation with action in his life. Jesus made a point of spending time alone in nature and in prayer when people around him were clamouring for him to preach and to heal the sick. Jesus even managed to fall asleep in a boat during the middle of a storm. His example is one we can strive to emulate, reminding us that we need time to think, to ponder and to pray.

Yet it’s not easy to resist “the cult of busyness,” especially within the Church. I found I got caught up in it while working for the diocese. In hindsight, I worked too much – even though I loved the job, especially working with so many faith-filled Anglicans. My hunch is that overwork, often disguised as devotion, runs rampant in the Church, and not just the Anglican Church. I heard a story of an American Christian leader who reached a point of exhaustion after years of hard work and decided to retire. After retiring, he cut back sharply on his activities. Later he met church colleagues for a visit. One said to him, “I guess you’re as busy as ever in your retirement, right?”  The man replied, “No, I’m not busy at all.” Silence filled the room. He wasn’t following the script.

Slowing down is not something we can master overnight. But there are small steps we can take towards a calmer, more balanced life. One is to turn off our devices for certain stretches of each day, and definitely before going to bed. We can enrich our Sabbath observance by taking a break from the news on Sunday, unless there’s a truly compelling reason to tune in. Another is to spend more time outside enjoying creation, in an unhurried and uninterrupted way.

Slowing down is not withdrawal from the world, but a way of loving it more faithfully.