Otium Sanctum

While reading this week, I came across an ancient Latin phrase that called to me: otium sanctum.  Translated as "holy leisure," this phrase seeks to encapsulate a balanced life centered in peace, in which all daily work is done with an openness to and acknowledgement of the presence of God.

Sounds nice, doesn't it?

My kids have taken to writing a daily newspaper, wherein each family member gets their own column, updating on the goings-on and status of our household. My most recent update opened with, "We think mom is stressed," followed by what I sincerely hope was an ill-judged, hyperbolic attempt at humor, "LIVES AT RISK!"

Yet, I admit that they were probably on to something. I write this from my office, which currently looks like chaos in physical form, with piles of scribbled lists peeking out from under papers to be graded, various textbooks open to pages that were important at one time for some reason, and numerous half-empty drink containers. The other areas of my life (see: house, minivan, laundry pile) are in a similar state. I've been pulled in too many directions recently, I feel perennially behind, and my eyes are scratchy with fatigue.

So. How do I get from here to there, from LIVES AT RISK to otium sanctum? 

I remember learning about the word sanctification in my seventh-grade catechism class. My pastor drew lots of squiggly arrows on the board while he talked, tracing a path from justification to sanctification that finally landed on glorification. I remember his earnest voice telling us that sanctification is a process that would take us our whole lives; sanctification is the continual renewal of our lives through the Holy Spirit. The idea of sanctification can be a bit overwhelming to a seventh-grader, because it means that, as hard as we work, there will still be more to do. But, it is also what makes us human - that longing for eternity, the hope for something more and better that continually calls to us.

So, how to get from here to there?  The answer, I think, is simple: pay attention. Notice the signs of God working, tend to the longing within, and keep that hope alive. Try to recognize the difference between a cheerful bustle and a frantic scramble, because there is joy to be found in the work of life. It is what we are made to do: building relationships, creating beauty, noticing, reflecting, and serving, always somewhere along our squiggly arrow paths of sanctification. And, remember that Jesus knows what it is to be fully human: stressed, frustrated, or needing a break. Our human limitations are also guardrails, helping us to regulate our energies and re-center as needed. 

Psalm 90 reads as a prayer, asking God to "teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom," and to "establish the work of our hands for us." To number our days well, to have a heart of understanding, that requires paying attention, a reorienting of our perspectives toward the eternal. We can purposefully plant flags in our days, guideposts that remind us to live a life of "holy leisure," but we can also learn to grab onto those moments as they are happening: a quiet drive, laughing with a child over a new comic book, pockets of time to connect and reflect. If we train ourselves to do this, instead of remaining under the tyranny of the urgent, running from one task to the next, we may be more able to keep a comprehensive view while continually growing in grace.  Otium sanctum.