Danger of Distraction

the danger of distraction

by Br. Leven Harton

No one should presume to relate to anyone else what he saw or heard outside the monastery, because that causes the greatest harm. - rule of st. benedict 67: 5

So important is silence that permission to speak should seldom be granted even to mature disciples, - rule of st. benedict 6: 3 Taken out of the context of a lived monastic charism, some of St. Benedict’s rules can seem unnecessarily isolating and severe. What is the “harm” that hearing news of the outside world causes for a monk? And why ought speech amongst the brothers be regulated? Are monks not adults, who have the capacity to filter their own input and derive benefit from interaction with external realities? What is the positive value that Benedict has in mind when he legislates these (and other) limitations on communication in the monastery? It must be admitted that our culture is one that is filled to the brim – full of communication and information. We live in the “information age,” a moment in history where we enjoy unprecedented access to content of all varieties. And while we receive tremendous benefits with the ready availability of information, there is a great pitfall that threatens the foundation of human dignity: distraction. By “distraction” I do not mean the meager, pesky insect that buzzes around your consciousness from time to time, causing the temporary irritation of divided attention. I mean a life of distraction, filled with distraction, focused on distraction. The era in which we attempt to live Christianity is one that offers us a veritable “charism” of secularism in this kind of living—a life of distraction. To live distracted is to be habitually disconnected from the reality that is in front of us. For the Christian, distraction is a grave danger. Separation from reality is separation from God. Distraction barricades the avenue by which Christ comes to meet us. Thus, the life of distraction can be a hidden form of rebellion, a rejection of one’s life and the workings of providence as insufficient, not worthwhile, lacking. The ‘no’ to God in this style of living remains tacit, largely unacknowledged. Instead of encountering one’s life unfiltered, face-to-face, a comfortable buffer of entertainment intervenes. And we elude a conscious responsibility for our lives, hiding behind the hundreds of little choices that maintain distraction. The depth of commitment unique to human action is cast aside in this case, and we give ourselves to nothing. A distracted life, then, is alienated not only from God, but from the execution of truly human choosing.

My latest opportunity for distraction comes from the provocative (for some) story of Kansas City Royals baseball I keep the Lord always in the past year. The ascension of this downtrodden franchise to the World Series has delivered a jolt of enthusiasm to the Kansas City region. And while listening to a game for before me; with him at relaxation and entertainment is a morally neutral behavior, the risk of a distracted mode of living is very real for me. I was driving recently to an important meeting, one that I my right hand, I shall needed to pray about as I approached my destination. The temptation, however, arose to listen to a Royals game. It was not a tempta- never be shaken. tion because I enjoy listening to the Royals. It was not a temp- -PSALM 16:8 tation because the Royals are a “worldly pleasure.” The temptation for me was to break the tension of the situation by avoidance, by not facing the matter at hand; I was tempted to split my person in half and hold back some of my self from this meeting. As silly as it sounds, to listen to Royals baseball in that moment was tantamount to my despairing of adequately preparing for the meeting, giving up and (at least) enjoying myself just a little bit. Thankfully, I resisted this temptation (one that I have given in to in the past) and the meeting went splendidly. St. Benedict recognized this temptation for humanity, the willingness to surrender our interiority and live distracted. And even without 21st century technology and a winning baseball team! So concerned was he for the monks’ recollected state that he exhorted his community to preserve silence and separation to a stunning degree. The first word of the Rule is emblematic of Benedictine spirituality: obsculta, “listen.” There is no listening, no perceiving with the eyes of faith, no approaching one’s situation with an expectant heart if the person is distracted, lost in imaginings or anxieties or frivolous baseball games. The work of staying present and offering oneself to reality is a work of listening and perceiving. We do believe that reality bears the weight of God’s presence to us. This experience is impossible for the distracted heart. Monks in the 21st century, for the most part, have much more access to the outside world than St. Benedict would ever have imagined. And there is probably more internal communication in most monasteries than there might have been in Benedict’s Monte Cassino. The value of being recollected in the face of reality, however, is still a good for contemporary monks. It is a timely witness to the larger world, which blindly encourages shallow engagement. But the human heart, which craves reality and is made for commitment to it, is not fooled by this era of distraction. One example, a “saint” of faithfulness to reality comes in the unlikely form of a deceased fashion mogul. The former editor of Elle magazine, Jean-Dominique Bauby, underwent a tremendous change of fortunes when he contracted “locked-in” syndrome, and suffered paralysis of his entire body except for his left eye, which he could blink. In this state of paralysis, following a lifestyle both fast and glamorous, Bauby blinked-out, letter-by-letter, to a speech therapist a book called The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. In it he begins describing his condition: “Through the frayed curtain at my window, a wan glow announces the break of day. My heels hurt, my head weighs a ton, and something like a giant invisible diving bell holds my whole body prisoner. My room emerges slowly from the gloom: photos of loved ones, my children’s drawings [ . . . ] and the IV pole hanging over my bed where I have been confined these past six months, like a hermit crab dug into his rock. Up until [now], I had never even heard of the brain stem. I’ve since learned that it is an essential component of our internal computer, the inseparable link between the brain and the spinal cord. I was brutally introduced to this vital piece of anatomy when a cerebrovascular accident took my brain stem out of action.” As he becomes acclimated to his situation, however, Bauby begins to find hope. He describes his favorite space at the Naval hospital of Berck, the terrace, and a protector who reassures him: “As we emerged from an elevator on the wrong floor, I saw it: tall, robust, and reassuring, in red and white stripes that reminded me of a rugby shirt. I placed myself at once under the protection of this brotherly symbol, guardian not just of sailors but of the sick—those castaways on the shore of loneliness. The lighthouse and I remain in constant touch, and I often call on it by having myself wheeled to [the terrace].” Made still, this man found himself positioned to receive reality in a new way. When his life of distraction was taken from him, he was forced to look, to listen. He recognized, in the lighthouse, the presence of a benign and powerful guardian, whom I would call God. This “new positioning,” this new ability to perceive reality and what reality contains is what St. Benedict has in mind when he places limitations on his community’s communication and interaction. Of course he doesn’t expect his monks to be paralyzed to achieve this. And we need not separate from others in order to experience the difference escaping distraction makes. For all of us, though, in whatever state of life the Lord has placed us, we can be sure that He wants to meet us in our reality. If we cultivate the alertness that silence and stillness give to us, we will meet Him in our circumstances. Meeting Him brings us the peace that the world cannot give.