My husband navigated our minivan down the long winding road that led away from the monastery. Our hearts and souls were filled with joyful peace from our time of prayer, and our shopping bag was filled with delicious treats that we purchased from the monks.
Suddenly, as we drove into town, our gaze was hit by the chaos of culture: noisy cars, marijuana dispensaries, and billboards that cluttered the wide Oklahoma sky.
"The monks aren't really missing much," I mused.
Earlier that day, we had knelt in the dark immensity of the abbey's upper church. Amidst the flickers of candlelight, monks in flowing robes had filed into the church. I was filled with an overwhelming sense that I had stepped back in time. The monks soon filled the air with chanting, and as I joined my own silent prayers to the Latin chants of the monks, I thought about how small my problems really were. Yes, whatever problems and challenges I was undergoing were valid, but in the grand scheme of things, were they really that big of a deal? The cares and concerns of my daily life melted into the great stillness and peace of this monastery.
That day at the monastery offered a chance for prayer and relaxation as a family as we hiked across the grounds, prayed in the church, and looked at the sheep and cows that grazed nearby. Yet, while our monastic outing was a good opportunity for prayer and contemplation, it also provided a good way to gain perspective. All of the stresses in my life and the culture seemed so small when I thought about them from the distance of the monastery. The choir stalls were filled with young monks, old monks, and young men who are discerning vocations to monastic life. These men spend their lives in contemplative prayer and work, offering life-giving hospitality to all who approach. Their lives are centered wholly and completely on God as they actively prepare for eternal life.
As I saw their witness, I was reminded that there is more to life than the small dramas, toddler tantrums, and scandals that clutter the news. Even though all of these can feel frustrating or overwhelming in the moment, I can--I need--to keep perspective. Do any of the small crises in life really matter that much?
The monks truly were not missing out on much.
This family outing a few years ago recently jumped to the forefront of my mind as I confessed to my husband: "Tuesday Newsday is overrated."
During Lent one year, I decided to fast from the news--except on Tuesdays. Each Tuesday, I'd sift through the internet--both on Catholic and secular news sources--to catch up on the major happenings and headlines of the week. A few months ago, as I noticed myself mindlessly scrolling through news websites, I decided to bring this practice back into my life. Tuesday Newsday became a nice way to contain my knowledge of the world's chaos into a tidy block of time.
However, in the past couple of weeks, I've grown disinterested when Tuesday Newsday rolls around. Speculation about the economy, election drama, and controversies about "what the pope said" fill the internet with endless chatter that spins in circles and seems to go nowhere. Each week when I close out the news websites, I'm filled with an overwhelming realization that I'm not missing out on that much. Plus, the constant access we have to worldwide news sucks us deeper into a cycle where we satiate our curiosity instantly. Where we feel like we're making a difference because we're informed and "like" a link on social media. Where we fill our minds and hearts with all manner of controversies online while simultaneously neglecting our relationship with God, with our families, and with our local communities.
I recently had a "wake up" moment, when I realized that I hadn't talked with one of my neighbors for a few months. Focused on the continual motion of my own life at home (even on days when we don't leave the house, there is so much activity with making food, serving food, reading books, and cleaning messes!) and issues in the wider community, I had neglected to pick up the phone or run over to my neighbor's house. Until the other day, when I called her up and we talked for several minutes before making plans to have an in-person visit soon.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about where I put my time and energy. If I pour myself into "keeping up" with the news and trying to churn our profound and well-formed opinions on every matter instantly, then I'm not going to have the time or energy to dive into my daily work of caring for my family and neighbors and fellow parishioners. Some people are able to do this, but not all of us. In fact, I think it's easy to forget that some of the online personalities we see who are always firing off "hot takes" about recent events are getting paid to do that. It's their job, so they have the time and resources to sift through headlines and articles and create clickbait content. My daily work is quite different, and that's okay.
I can still be informed about the issues of the world, but I'm trying to remember that it's quite all right to not know about every single conflict and controversy as soon as it happens.
I can still offer insights and opinions on worldwide and local events, but also allow myself time to sift through information and have in-depth conversations about them.
I can still glance at the news here and there, but also remember to not neglect the current events that affect my own family, neighborhood, and wider community.
I can listen to political commentators occasionally, but not let the desire to satiate my curiosity fill my life with constant noise and anxiety.
And, most importantly, I can remember that God is our help and salvation.
If we are spending more time sifting through the news headlines than we are in prayer, then maybe it's time to reevaluate our priorities.
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