Disengagement erodes our moral core

My father’s temper could be loud and blustery. My mother withdrew. I tend to favour my mother.  My wife thinks I’d make a good spy: nothing revealed, no hints given.

With pain, death, corruption, war, and uncertainty in the world, I’m tempted to turtle. Thank goodness the Blue Jays are back, a distraction often undervalued. Give the masses cinnamon buns and a remote!

But then I have to ask: Is this how I want to live?

Like a good lawyer, my heart already knows the answer. Withdrawal and disengagement not only diminish my life but also violate something larger. Withdrawal carries ethical weight.

Theodore Parker (1810 – 1860) said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929 -1968) turned the phrase into a call to action: the arc bends toward justice through effort, sacrifice, and courage.

What if the challenges feel too big and the forces of destruction and the Anti-Christ too strong? And, more seriously, what if I don’t want to?

I hear the echo of early Christian thinkers in my attempt to face down the slithering malaise of acedia.

Evagrius Ponticus (c. 345–399 AD) first described the symptoms. John Cassian (c. 360–435 AD) mapped these field notes into a pattern. Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) pushed the analysis furthest: “I no longer desire the good that would give me life.” So, Aquinas named acedia a sin.

I grew up hearing “sin” passionately railed against in church at least three times a week. I don’t care much for it, even though the designation often proves more precise than anything in feel-good pop spirituality.

Love connects; acedia disengages. Acedia is not simply laziness or sadness but an aversion to that which brings, nurtures and enhances life. Thus, Aquinas classified acedia as a sin—specifically, a rejection of love and, therefore, of God.

I was not happy to learn that my new companion was not just a spiritual challenge. Choosing to withdraw makes disengagement an ethical, not just emotional, problem. The erosion of compassion and responsibility undermines a moral stance. And I am certain I had one of those somewhere around here!

The moral life requires attention, care, and perseverance, but these are precisely what acedia chips away. Thus, the moral impact is not so much on what is done as on what is left undone.

At its most severe, in relationships and vocation, the emphasis shifts from what is good, what is the vision worth pursuing, to what is the minimum required. Delay, distract, resign to the decline.

The hard stuff of life moves into the “deal with it sometime” basket: truth-telling, reconciliation, sacrifice – later, perhaps on Monday. This technique allows a preservation of a modicum of good intention while avoiding actual change. Though even in the short run, I can feel the hollowing out of my zest, my character, my soul.

It took me a while to notice. I have memories of a time when passion and purpose about residential schools, the emerging drug culture and the deepening chasm between socio-economic classes, the need for the gospel and the church to engage real life. Stark contrast to quiet, creeping disengagement. With the progression of acedia, I could feel myself running the cliff edge of “Whatever. Someone else’s problem.”

Even with the loss of Caleb and the awareness that five people die every day in my home province from toxic drug overdoses, my compassion and outrage became fatigued. I wondered, was I simply becoming resigned to the addiction of our society, the injustice, to Trump, the anti-Christ, to an apocalypse? If not for my grandchildren, would all spark dissolve into ash?

The question frightened me.

“Same old, same old” was my unconscious expectation. Hope wasn’t denied, just starved. I lost confidence in the future—a dangerous, ethical and spiritual place to be. No reason to act, risk, or endure.

Leaders without hope disintegrate.

Doomscrolling at 2 am brought pseudo-righteousness and artificial outrage.

I generate excuses like Ukraine constructs drones. “What could I do? Nothing we do will change anything!”

It is tempting to believe that nothing can be done with Gaza, Ukraine, Africa, South America, the Middle East, and climate erosion. What strength of soul does it take to engage even one of these issues? Institutions once formed to preserve focus and energy now seem under attack, inside and out. Local congregations and service clubs once offered ways to stay informed and involved, at least through small acts of justice. Now, is it better to step back than be buried beneath what used to be the superstructure?

The troubling thing about these rationalizations is their grain of truth: ways to alter the course of events in Gaza, Lebanon, Iran, or too many other locales are not obvious. (See postscript) Managing my energy and emotional well-being is necessary; yet, I sense some slippage.

When institutions and organizations disengage, the focus shifts to self-preservation. Imagination is dampened if not lost. Love, justice, compassion, and reconciliation retreat into abstract, passionate speeches and resolutions.

The moral danger of acedia is complicity. When weariness replaces hope, harmful systems persist since confronting them feels too costly. Each apathetic sigh tightens their grip. While the costumes have changed since the past, today’s passivity echoes the enabling silence that once empowered oppressive regimes.

Even if I do not wave placards or take to the streets, there remains a question: should outrage not persist? Should not injustice and tyranny be named?

Acedia becomes dangerous to the core of character when it anesthetizes discontent.

Acedia appears to exempt us from moral responsibility or ethical thought, sheltering us from the change required for real engagement. At its core, acedia is an inner resistance or avoidance that numbs us to our duty to act or care.

As I navigate through—and try to emerge from—the Valley of the Shadow, I look for solid stepping stones to guide me forward.

This blessing works for the week.

May your heart not grow weary of the good,

nor your spirit turn aside from what gives life.

And when you are tempted to withdraw,

May courage find you, and love call you back.

_________

P.S. Hand in Hand Schools in Israel bring together Jews and Arabs, day to day, class by class, bilingual and multifaith, a candle in the darkness. Lee Gordon, co-founder of the initiative, will be speaking at Esquimalt United Church, 500 Admirals Road, Victoria, BC, on Saturday, April 18th, 2:00 – 3:30 pm. Hope to see you there.

Note: This article was written by the author with research assistance from ChatGPT