I was 12 and visiting Georgetown for my second college tour —I know that sounds crazy, but in my family of four brothers, when one of us visited schools, all of us visited the school to save time—when I heard what has become my favorite story.
My family being strict Irish Catholics and our visit falling on a Sunday, we headed to Dahlgren Chapel dressed in our finest to join a shuffling crowd of guilty-looking, hung-over undergraduates. During the hour of ritual worship and deity-eating, the priest devoted his sermon to a parable about a young man and a boulder.
As the priest told it, God commanded the most devout man on earth to push a massive boulder sitting next to his house up a hill. Being the most devout man on earth, he stood at the base of that boulder and strained with all his might to move it. Try as he might, he could not move the boulder, and collapsed in a heap next to it. Once he woke up, he got some food and, despite his weary body, returned to pushing the boulder; still no progress.
This pattern repeated itself for a few days, then weeks, then months, then years, until this man had become stronger. Finally, a day came where he got the previously stationary stone to budge. Over the course of a few days, he got the boulder into position atop the little hill, at which time God said, “Good work, my son. Now rest.” And rest he did, because let’s be honest, that guy was beat.
Back when I first heard the tale, I thought this was a pretty good story. Last Sunday – eight years after the Lundquist Georgetown college extravaganza – as I sat a pew in Dahlgren once again, waiting for the sermon to begin, I remembered the story of the devout man and wondered, “What was that guy thinking?”
I’d been living by the motto “work smarter, not harder” for a long time. Why walk across the Key Bridge, for example, when you could stand outside the Southwest Quad and catch a GUTS bus that’ll get you to Rosslyn at the same time? But as I reflected on the old sermon I realized that the point of the priest’s story was that the existence of a shortcut isn’t always enough to make taking that shortcut worthwhile.
For a long time, I’d felt empty, without any tangible reason. It was sort of an out-of-place, disconnected feeling; a nagging concern that I didn’t belong or didn’t deserve to be where I was. The feeling didn’t come from a lack of accomplishment, I realized reflecting on the parable, but a lack of commitment. I had done everything I was required to do to make it to Georgetown and progress through sophomore year, but I’d forgotten that fulfilling your duties with the minimum possible effort isn’t the same thing as leading a fulfilling life.
I looked back and saw that even in pledging a fraternity – an act that required what might be the most commitment I’d ever given—I gave the least and did the least possible to make the cut. My pledge brothers knew it, and deep down I knew it too. I had all the excuses you can think of—I was sick, I was too busy, I didn’t like hanging with so-and-so, I had family issues—all valid reasons not to participate, yet all a bit false at the same time. Revisiting that sermon made me realize that laziness, sloth, whatever you want to call it, was taking over my life. Instead of physics, Hulu. Instead of friends, Facebook.
The problem is that the character-building, meaningful activities take so much effort, and opportunities for distraction and relaxation are always readily available. In a world with literally anything we need a phone call or a few clicks away, I found my life empty because it was built on all the unimportant things we’ve created to make our lives a little more full.
Do I think the old man pushing for years against a stationary rock is a fool? To a certain extent. Why didn’t he just go out and build a big lever or a crane or something? He could have done that job with so much less effort—but that’s not the point. The point is that the more you do things the easy way, the easier it is to wind up not doing any of the hard, but more rewarding things in life.
You’re Awesome. I love you. a lot. but in a totally cool way. really.