About an hour before I started writing this piece, I ran into one of my professors outside of class. She noted a drop in my preparation for recent classes as compared to earlier in the semester, to which I could do nothing much more than agree without explanation. She told me she sensed she was getting the “short end” of my attention, which, after some reflection, is true, but not the full story. I have realized that I have not just given her the short end of my attention, but also the rest of my professors, my extracurricular obligations, and God Himself.
While leisure and spending quality time with friends is important, it is important to not lose sight of the fact that we at BC are attending a university for the purpose of receiving an education, which ultimately should have God’s glorification as its end in turn. I have heard from plenty of sources that being a student is, in a sense, a vocation (that is, insofar as it is a calling; it certainly does not rise to the level of the supernatural vocation of the priesthood), and is thus to be taken seriously. In a way, I have a duty to God to direct my best efforts to my studies and to not cut corners.
In fact, it has become clear to me through my own inadequacy towards devoting as much time and effort as I should to my classes that doing so rubs off into all aspects of life. By failing in diligence and fortitude in class preparation and avoiding procrastination, we cultivate a disposition against these virtues that expands further. In my case, if I let a reading for a class pass by, then it becomes ever easier to let prayer pass by. I can use busyness and my abundance of involvements as an excuse all I want, but this is merely ignoring the fact that vice is at the root of my failure in proper attention to both my studies, and in turn to the spiritual life.
“If I am too busy to read,” I tell myself, “I am too busy to pray.” Trying to forget the fact that I am apparently not too busy to doomscroll through Twitter, I fall into the demonic trap of convincing myself that my sloth is justified.
When asked by the professor mentioned earlier about the reason for my regression, I mentioned my busyness both outside of my control and under my control. If I am to be honest with myself, the latter far outweighs the former. Imagine how much more effective I would be if instead of staring at the wall in my friends’ apartment I finished my reading for the next day before going to see my friends (and maybe by that point I would be doing something of substance with them). Imagine how much less stressful it would be if rather than complaining about late article submissions I instead wrote my own late articles (or wrote them before they were late). If I could stay on top of my academic and non-academic obligations habitually, then imagine how much easier it would be—now having this improved disposition against worldly sloth—to combat spiritual sloth.
Our predecessors in the Church have certainly seen a connection between worldly work and the spiritual life. Take the motto of the Order of St. Benedict—ora et labora (pray and work)—as an example. While it is a dangerous extreme to become a workaholic, let us nevertheless remember that our daily actions affect our interior life, and that our worldly habits and excuses can easily become habits and excuses against a relationship with our loving God.
To lighten the mood a little, I should also mention what that professor said at the end of our exchange: “I want you back.” So too does Our Lord, no matter how far we have strayed. If we wish to return to Him, we need only to seek out his mercy, which he has provided abundantly to those who truly seek it. If we seek out the Sacrament of Reconciliation, God will be eager to bring us back into His friendship.
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