6 January 1980
Gen. 1 :27-2:3
Matt. 2:1-12
“ON LEARNING TO PLAY”
3rd sermon in series “To A Workaholic” by
The Very Rev. Roger 0. Douglas
Several months ago, while preparing for this series on workaholism, I ran across a cartoon in the “New Yorker” magazine. It showed a very serious-minded, middle-aged. executive in the hallway of a very serious office building, with a serious expression on his face, and he was reading a very serious-looking sign. In big letters, the sign said: “INSTRUCTIONS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY.” And then below, in slightly smaller letters, it said: ”
Grab your coat and get your hat. (2) Leave your worries on the doorstep.
(3) Direct your feet to the sunny side of the street. ”
Thank God for the New Yorker. We -need a magazine that can show us how we look, and do it humorously.- in the back of that cartoon is the grim reminder that we are locked into our work patterns_, We have become a serious people, and it is hard — exceedingly hard — for us to grab our coats and get our hats, and leave our worries on the doorstep, and direct our feet to the sunny side of the street. It is hard because we have become a nation of workahol i cs .
Workaholism, as I have indicated in previous sermons, is the most deadly, insidious disease of the 20th century. It has the power to de, st:roy the very cycles of life. Work becomes the be-all and end-all of life. It gives us our meaning and becomes the answer to life’s riddles. And finally, as the disease takes hold, even play becomes work.
The pattern of making even play an aspect of ours starts early in life. The other day, I was at a gathering of friends, and I asked my dinner partner about his son. He answered: “My son has been playing Little League football and really getting a lot out of it. Of course, it takes a great deal of time, but we are happy, for he made the starting team and he gets a lot of recognition from the sport.”
After I went home, I began to ponder that remark. Suddenly, it came to me that behind those innocent words stood a classic expression of why we have lost the distinction between work and play.
Subtly and unconsciously, the sense of play has slipped away from us. First, we have evolved into a nation of activists. This in itself is not a bad trait, but from that we have begun to feel good about ourselves on the basis of our achievements — of what we do. This, too, seems normal and natural, but from there it has become a very short step to making productivity the final measure of the individual. In a workaholic culture that has become so very serious, it is what a person does that is a measure of his existence.
You say to yourselves that the preacher is exaggerating. You think that this is not a workaholic culture. you think the disease has not infected you. Let me ask you: What do you say when you first meet a new person? After we find out his or her name, then comes the real question: “What do you do?” We identify people in terms of their work. In a workaholic culture, people’s worth as individuals is in what they have produced in the marketplace, on the playing field, as well as in the home.
We play football in order to make the first team and gain recognition. We play tennis in order to keep trim. We play cards in order to be social and meet new people. I work at play, and have become so very serious. Yet — yet, isn’t this the very opposite of what play is all about?
The very nature of play is diametrically opposed to work. It involves us in a state of being, not doing. Play at its best gets us in touch with the child within us — the child who is not serious but spontaneous about any activity. The child who does not accomplish does not succeed, but merely enjoys. How many of us know much about that childlike quality? How many of us have been able to move from the adult virtue of work to the childlike value of play? How many of us even want to try this movement?
Let me draw your attention to my text from Genesis. In it, we read that God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it. On the seventh day God rested from work and behaved differently. And you will not; see that He blessed this of all days. God didn’t bless the day on which He made the beasts of the earth, the birds of the air, the fish of the sea, and every Creeping thing that creeps upon the earth. He didn’t even bless the day on which He made us male and female. No, He blessed the time in which He didn’t accomplish anything. Have you ever thought about that?
Sometimes our activist culture will try to explain away the seventh day as simply “rest”. Then this rest is seen as a preliminary step to working. We rest so that we can work harder later. But if we think that way we lose all sense of # learning for the seventh day. The seventh day is special, different, and takes of a quality all its own. It’s a day when God stops doing and just is. It’s a day when He enjoys His creation and doesn’t have to make anything that would appear to be “good”. It’s a day when success is an unheard-of word.
You will have to admit that it’s a dangerous theology to try to improve upon God. And so I always wonder, when we know that God Himself rested, when God took off from work, when (if we can be irreverent and say) He decided to play, if that is what God did. I often wonder: Why are there so many of us workaholics, who can only let go when we are dead from exhaustion? Isn’t there some terrible pride involved in all this? Aren’t we being blind to the example God has set before us?
But blindness can be cured, and pride can be set aside. The good news of the Gospel of Christ is that salvation is not through productivity. It is not what we do or what we have accomplished about which God cares. It is what we are — children, children of God. That is a message that has to be repeated again and again to workaholics. It is only when that message begins to penetrate into the inner recesses of our minds that we can begin to play, to enjoy, to be
A number of years ago a friend of mine enrolled in a theological seminary to do graduate work. One of his chosen professors was a man of eminence in the field of theology. My friend was amazed when, at the very first session, the professor turned to the class and said, “You all have A’s. Now let’s see what we can enjoy about our subject. ‘:
Can you imagine the feelings that those opening words touched off? Each student had their status guaranteed. They could relax with the subject and have fun. Perhaps this is the secret of play — the realization that you are free, with no need to worry about succeeding, producing, or doing. You can enjoy without concern over marks or status. You can have a moment of grace.
The title of this sermon is On LearnIng to Play and it has been one of the most difficult sermons I have ever written. It is difficult because I am a serious person, living in a serious world. It is difficult because I have always been more concerned with people acting like adults, being responsible, working at life. It is difficult because taking my own words to heart would call for me to rearrange my priorities. Somehow I will have to learn to play, to enjoy, to be, as well as find time for striving, accomplishing, and doing. Somehow, through God’s Grace, I will have to let inner child emerge and put aside that serious adult who keeps cropping up.
– One of my favorite authors is Sam Kean. In one of his books, he gives a definition of “a wise person”. According to Sam Kean, a wise person is one who knows what time it is in hIs life. A wise person has a sense of the appropriate, which enables him to do and be what he wants to be.
Kean illustrates this point by telling of a visit to relatives who lived in the Tidewater area of Virginia. In this locale, there are many little bays adjoining the Atlantic Ocean. Sam was warned about swimming, particularly when the tide was coming in or going out- Old timers advised him that if he found himself caught in either of these periods of turbulence, the thing to do was not to try to swim against the current. The only way was to float and let the tide carry him. When he got either way in or way out, the water quieted down, and it would be relatively easy to swim across to the shore. People who did not understand this strategy often tried swimming and ended up drowning. Sam learned the secret of negotiating these tricky waters; it involved three essential skills: “the ability to float, the ability to swim, and” — most appropriate of all — “the wisdom to know when to do the one and when to do the other. ”
That is the secret of being a wise man. We cannot. play all our lives, or we would become playboys and playgirls. We cannot work all our lives, or we would become workaholics. But we can learn to do the one and then the other.
And so, my New Year’s wish for all of us is to become wise. Be in touch with your “child, for you are a child of God. Be in touch with your serious side, for God also worked. And become wise, following a God who blessed the seventh day of creation — as She enjoyed Herself.
Happy New Year!
Amen