“L”  Chapter Three, section 2

Leisure Is Work Worth Doing

 Some things I understand so slightly that it is best that I say little about them. Aristotle for example. I know he was amazingly well-educated and that he influenced nearly everything (natural history, politics, physics, theology, art, physiology, ethics, astronomy, philosophy, for starters), that he is the father of Western logic, that his teacher was Plato (whose great systems he discarded), and that his own famous student was Alexander the Great (who successfully ignored much of his master’s advice).

My reading of Aristotle begins and ends with a few pages from his Nichomachean Ethics. An eyedropper could suck up my grasp of Aristotle and still have space in it. But, oh, what a precious few drops I have. From Aristotle I learned a lesson on leisure.

Time, says Aristotle, should hold two serious forms of work. First, subsistence work. That is, any sort of utilitarian job we do or hope our children will get and hope earns them enough pay to allow for basic needs—shelter, food, and a VCR.

Then, time is used for what the great philosopher called leisure work.Leisure, he said in the second century B.C. consists of moral work, the training of mind and spirit in such things as religion, ethics, art, and science. Leisure is a job, a discipline, not a measure of free time, not a means of income. Aristotle called leisure “work,” and he called a job “work,” then the relief from these tow things he called, “play.”

Is it easy? Is it fun? These are good questions to ask but not about work, only about play. We play, goof off, and get silly in free time, but free time is not leisure time. The distinction is crucial. Jobs we understand; play, too. But what is leisure? My dictionary says leisure is “freedom from demands of work or duty.”

Aristotle would say, “Fie!” (Would a Greek say “Fie”?) Surely Aristotle says, “Not on your life!” Leisure is not a state of being free from demands, not a noun, not an adjective describing time, not play. Leisure is work, a commitment to activity whereby fine character is built.I like that. But when Aristotelian categories evaporate, as they have of late, where then do we place the task of developing character? Is it play? It is not. Is it a job for which we are paid and by which we subsist? It is not. In our modern era when time is regularly sliced in two, like a sandwich, where fits leisure, the work of building noble character?

When do we train the mind and spirit? When do we learn to be fine people? It concerns me that the word fineregularly describes music or art but rarely people. Fine is not limited to a critic’s vocabulary, it does not equate to snobbery, and it is not a station in life. It is a sum of money imposed as a penalty but not only that. It is an unlabeled French brandy but not only that. Finestill means of superior or best quality. Fine fits construction workers, homemakers, engineers, loggers, and IRS agents. Well, maybe not IRS agents. Fine people work two jobs and relieve both with play.

Leisure trains and exercises attitudes and behaviors. Its work is to shape fine human character. It requires a commitment of time and an aim toward nobility. As a Christian, I cannot help but enjoy imagining a congregation’s response to someone calling Bible study a leisure activity. What will it be today? Golf? A walk in the woods? Bible Study?

But is there a finer example of Aristotle’s leisure than that which comes from the apostle Paul to the Philippian Christians? Learn to look for at least one of these qualities in every station you experience, in every person you meet, in every task you approach (even rotten experiences permit at least one—just keep looking). Paul’s admonition is work. It is leisure:

            Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is true, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things you have learned.

                                                            Philippians 4:8-9 NRSV

Lee Atwater, former George Bush campaign manager, at age forty lay dying of a brain tumor. He said, “My illness helped me to see that what was missing in society is what was missing in me—a little heart, a lot of brotherhood . . .and to see that we must be made to speak to this spiritual vacuum at the heart of American society, this tumor of the soul.” (Time,May 10, 1993)

Believe it or not, leisure is meant to make us see such things. If we begin to live the leisurely life early enough, our regrets will be narrowed. “Thing about these things .  . .”

Coming Up:   Ignorance Is a Self-Imposed Prison

It was a surprising thing, my earning a graduate degree in theology.

When I was assigned the task of unraveling this,

            “A Careful and Strict Inquiry into the Modern Prevailing Notions of that Freedom of Will, Which is Supposed to be Essential to Moral Agency, Virtue and Vice, Reward and Punishment, Praise and Blame,” Jonathan Edwards.

Well, hey. I knew I was in trouble. Not only could I not fathom the title, I didn’t know who Jonathan Edwards was.

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