“We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?” (Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451)
Is something bothering you?
I get it. It’s a loaded question. But stick with me for a second. Sit down, and let’s have a chat about church and faith. Pour yourself some coffee, make some tea. Grab a couple of Thin Mints. Let’s spend some time thinking about what it means to be bothered because I am wondering if we’re not being sufficiently bothered.
In particular, let’s think about getting bothered by faith.
At the height of the pandemic, a reporter from the New York Times began noticing that American’s tolerance for being bothered was decreasing. Sarah Lyall began documenting what she called the “great chorus of consumer rage, 2021 style.” From grocery stores to airplanes, she tracked down stories about consumers throwing full-blown temper tantrums. Some of these seemed downright trivial, including an incident involving a grocery store customer becoming violently irate when he could not locate a particular type of blue cheese.
That’s extreme. But as Lyall said, given all the Covid-19 annoyances we were enduring at the time, it was the event which pushed the customer over the edge.
Sometimes it feels like our lives are inundated with dump-truck loads of inconveniences. Remember that time you called about your cable service and talked to a live person? Neither do I.
One economist suggests that our lack of ability to be bothered is the result of consumers being seduced by what she called a “frictionless economy,” or the expectation that you can get whatever you want whenever you want it. If things don’t go smoothly, we’ll be writing a letter or calling a manager.
It’s somewhat ironic that the very things which are supposed to streamline our lives – like automated phone calls – often end up making us more frustrated. Theologian Andrew Root, who teaches at Luther Seminary in Minneapolis, MN, explores the relationship between modernity and efficiency in several of his recent books. Confronted by the challenges of modern life and its layers of competing demands, Root says we work hard to give sufficient time to our various roles—parent, employee, friend, church members, etc. “Each of these roles and desires makes demands on our limited time,” Root writes in When Church Stops Working, “so we must choose what we will do and not do. Efficiency is often the solution. We double up, listening to a podcast for work while we walk the dog. We think we can do more than we actually can.”
Our lives accelerate, Root says, to the point where we imagine our salvation lies in more—doing more, being more, having more. But having more does not equate to satisfaction. Nor does it fill up pews. We remain strangely bothered.
That’s where the irony hits. The pursuit of not being bothered (efficiency) never really satisfies. In fact, it increases our frustration. Indeed, if the folks at the Gallup Poll are to be believed, our collective sense of dissatisfaction seems to be growing. A new Gallup study shows that levels of life satisfaction among many Americans remain at historically low levels. Less than half of Americans report being “very satisfied” with their lives.
We’re bothered by being bothered.
It’s probably not surprising that those with higher household incomes report higher life satisfaction levels. Gallup has been taking stock of the mood of the nation since 1979, which gives them a sizable database. In this new study, about 78 percent of Americans describe themselves as either “satisfied” or “very satisfied” with their lives. This is the lowest since 2011, and considerably down since 2020 when a record-setting 90 percent reported feeling satisfied with life.
Satisfaction levels among those with household incomes above $100,000 annually have remained steady. Again, not surprising, perhaps. But there’s something else. The most satisfied Americans seem to look a lot like Presbyterians. That’s not part of the research, but Gallup does note that those with the highest level of life satisfaction are college-educated married adults over age 55 who are more religious than the average American.
Sounds pretty Presbyterian to me, though not exclusively so. I’m assuming that donuts after Sunday worship contribute significantly to rising satisfaction levels.
It is possible that we need to get bothered a bit more. Perhaps we need to spend time with people who are truly experiencing life’s inconveniences. Let’s talk with those whose lives are burdened by injustice
and lack of hope. Let’s find out what is bothering them, and let’s allow that to bother us.
The problem is we choose not to be bothered. The truth, of course, is that does not bring us closer to the abundance God promises. Instead of being bothered by people who are different from us, we attend churches with people who look like ourselves. Instead of being bothered by solutions to tough problems, we keep repeating the same mistakes. We avoid the bother of sitting next to those who hold different opinions, or who may vote differently than we do. It is easier, and thus more efficient, to simply not be bothered.
I was intrigued by the way author Marilyn Robinson answered a question recently about her participation in church. Robinson, author of the novel Gilead, has been a faithful Christian her entire life. A recent move from Iowa has taken her away from “the church of my heart.” Instead, she now catches up with her beloved congregation through its live stream on Sundays.
She admitted that she has found online attendance easier. “I just love watching the old faces, hearing the old songs,” she said, “I’ve got to get over it.” She’s hardly alone.
But when the interview asked her to say some more about participating in on line church, she said,
You know, there’s a good choir; there’s a good sermon. The environment is familiar and reassuring. But there’s something about actually going to a church, the bother involved, that by itself is a huge concession that you make to the meaningfulness of what will happen there. It’s a very modest discipline, really. It’s too easy to see the service on my computer.
Her theology is impeccable: it’s all about being bothered enough to take part in community. Something similar takes place when Jesus is quizzed by Nicodemus in John, chapter 3. It might have been more efficient for Jesus to ask Nicodemus to come back the next day, or even to submit his questions in writing. But Jesus is willing to be bothered. He is bothered enough to be interrupted.
Being bothered is a discipline Presbyterians bring to the world. Our polity calls us to the work and service of “mutual forbearance,” which is nothing more than a fancy way of saying sometimes we need to be bothered. We practice forbearance by allowing ourselves to make room for those whose opinions may bother us. Afterall, some of us like sprinkles on donuts while others prefer glazed.
To be bothered means that we show up and take our seats. We maintain relationships with each other. We might not share the same opinions, but we partake of the same bread and drink of the same cup. We maintain good boundaries, of course, but we also get into the habit of allowing God to bother us with the promises of the Gospel.
Rev. Dr. Chris Keating
Woodlawn Chapel Presbyterian
St. Louis County Police Chaplain
