This morning I started reading a new book called Acedia & Me by Kathleen Norris. So far, it’s wonderful. I know it’s a bit pre-emptive, and perhaps assuming to begin writing about a book I’ve barely read. It’s kind of like describing a love you’ve only discovered. But alas, it got me thinking at 6:10am.

Kathleen Norris has spent a lot of time studying and coming to understand the monastic tradition. Acedia is an acient word that was often ascribed to a feeling, a sin even, that many monks struggled with. It left them indifferent toward the moment, almost slothful. It wasn’t rebellion, it wasn’t disobedience, it was just . . . meh.

It’s stange to think, that the job of a monk – meditating on the scriptures, a life of generosity and charity, 24-hour worship of the One True God, apart from the distractions and temptations of the material world – could be met with torpor or numbness. Man, if monks struggle with it where is my hope?

But this all got me thinking, maybe we are all monks. We’re just secular monks. If you think about it, we are all called to worship God fully in all that we do. We are all called to pray without ceasing. We are all called to be self-sacrificing and to consider others better than ourselves. The only difference is that we have a day job. And I find that the struggle of acedia finds me at my desk every single day.

Norris suggests that acedia actually robs us of joy and satisfaction. Sure, if we’re numb toward something, we can’t really experience pain and struggle from that thing. But we also can’t experience satisfaction.

Acedia says to us, “Man, this sucks. Why should you even care about this?”

To which we reply, “You’re right, friend. You’re always right. I just don’t care anymore.”

So we stop caring, and we stop letting the moment affect us. But what have we missed out on? There is such a deep-rooted joy and satisfaction in overcoming struggle, heartache, and pain. Out of that pain comes knowledge, understanding, appreciation and deeper trust of God. We become aware of how finite and flawed we are, and how desperate and dependent we need to be on God. I don’t want to miss out on that.

Now I sit, in my three-quarter walled cloister, thanking God for the ability to care.