The Misery of Sloth

[W]e are revealed in His light as those who lead a false existence, remaining in exile and therefore in misery as though the true God had come to us in vain, as though He had not taken us up with Him, as though we were not already at home in and with Him, sharing His royal freedom. This is what gives to the human situation the determination and character of human misery. It is the evil fruit of the sloth of man. It is the unavoidable fate of the sloth of man. Remaining behind instead of going up with Him, he is necessarily the one who is left behind in misery. He prefers his own life below to the divine life above. He chooses to persist in it. He must have it as he himself wills to have it. He must be the one he himself wills to be. He is thus the man who remains below where he does not belong, and is not at home.

–Karl Barth

Amadeus and Envy

The 1984 movie Amadeus, which depicts the rivalry between Amadeus Mozart and Antonio Salieri, is often cited as a classic example of envy. Here’s an article that, while not written from a posture of Christian faith, offers keen insight into how envy works.

Quoting the work of philosopher, Alain de Botton, the article tries to redeem envy from its reputation as a deadly sin and offers a positive role for it in our lives:

The real problem with envy is not feeling it, but what you do with it. Envy is a highly beneficial emotion in so far as it goads us towards things we are capable of getting.

Is envy a deadly sin, as the Bible suggests? Or is it, as de Botton claims, ‘a goad to greatness’?

Practicing the Virtues and Sledding

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In her excellent book, Glittering Vices, Rebecca DeYoung draws an analogy between character formation and sledding:

By way of an analogy, think of a winter sledding party, in which a group of people head out to smooth a path through freshly fallen snow. The first sled goes down slowly, carving out a rut. Other sleds follow, over and over, down the same path, smoothing and packing down the snow. After many trips a well-worn groove develops, a path out of which it is hard to steer. The groove enables sleds to stay aligned and on course, gliding rapidly, smoothly, and easily on their way. Character traits are like that: the first run down, which required some effort and tough going, gradually becomes a smooth track that one glides down without further intentional steering. Of course, a rider can always stick out a boot and throw the sled off course, usually damaging the track as well. So too we can act out of character, even after being ‘in the groove’ for a long time. In general, however, habits incline us swiftly, smoothly, and rapidly toward certain types of actions (DeYoung, 13-14).

Practicing the virtues is like sledding in that it tends to get easier the more we do it. Are there other ways that practicing the virtues is like sledding? Sure. Here are a few more:

1. Snow is a gift. You can’t make it snow. You wake up one morning, and there it is, waiting to be enjoyed. Practicing the virtues is similarly a form of grace. It happens within the larger context of Jesus’ completely sufficient life and death for us, and our continuing union with him, which is sheer gift and pure grace.

2. Sledding is (usually) enjoyable. There are tears, sometimes, especially when you’re sledding with little ones. But the overall endeavor is meant to be embraced and savored. In the same way, practicing the virtues is something we get to do. It’s not meant to be burdensome. It’s the way Jesus leads us into abundant life, by forming us into his likeness.

3. Sledding is more enjoyable, and easier, when you do it with others. Two children loaded into the same sled will make it further, faster, than one going alone. Same goes for practicing the virtues. We’re not meant to do this alone. Virtues are embodied in communities, and we need each other to grow into the likeness of Jesus.

4. Falling isn’t the end of the world. Maybe you don’t make it to the bottom of the hill. Maybe you veer off track and end up with a face full of snow. That’s okay, because you get up, or you’re helped up, and you get to try again. Falling and failing will be a regular experience for us as we pursue Jesus. But it’s not the end of the world, because your growth into Jesus’ likeness doesn’t depend, in the end, on your pursuit of Jesus; it depends on his pursuit of you. Our christlikeness is ultimately something that God has made himself responsible for. One day we will be like him, “because we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2).