I had never heard of the word “acedia” before reading a review about Kathleen Norris’ latest book, Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer’s Life. I had to look it up in the dictionary. It means basically ‘not caring’ or ’sloth’ or ‘being indifferent.’ Before looking up the word, I thought it was a Latin version of ‘depression’ for the Middle Ages. Come to find out, from Norris’ account, that’s not far from the truth. I really like Norris’ approach to writing and the Christian life, and I really can’t wait to get to a point to sit with her book and digest it. In the mean time, you can read a decent review and excerpt of the book here and here.

In the latest issue of the Christian Century, there’s a really good excerpt, which I couldn’t find an online version of to display here. Here’s a bit:

“One of the first symptoms of both acedia and depression is the inability to address the body’s basic daily needs. It is also a refusal of repitition. Showering, shampooing, brushing the teeth, taking a multivitamin, going for a daily walk, as unremarkable as they seem, are acts of self-respect. They enhance the ability to take pleasure in oneself and in the world. But the notion of pleasure is alien to acedia, and one becomes weary thinking about doing anything at all. It is too much to ask, one decides, sinking back on the sofa. This indolence exacts a high price …”

“… In this new, repulsive world I now inhabit — and indeed have created for myself — I sleep fitfully with the light on, waking at frequent intervals to read the same sentences over and over. My days are not lived so much as wasted in compulsive reading. I stop answering the phone and getting the mail, ignoring everything but the next page, the next book in the pile. The contemporary maxim ‘Listen to your body’ is useless to me when all I want to do is lie down, turn pages and ignore that ringing phone. I may in fact need bodily refreshment, yet that is exactly what acedia will prevent. My lying for hours on the sofa, book in hand, is a sad parody of leisure. I have reached the state Soren Kierkegaard described in Either/Or: ‘I do not care for anything. I do not care to ride, for the exercise is too violent. I do not care to walk, walking is too strenuous. I do not care to lie down, for I should either have to remain lying, and I do not care to do that, or I should have to get up again, and I do not care to do that either. Summa summarum: I do not care at all.’ It amazes me how quickly acedia can deaden what has long been a pleasure for me, and with what facility despair will replace the joy I once found in the act of reading …”

I’m still waiting to get a copy of her book. I don’t know when I’ll get around to reading it. You know, being lazy and all… In the meantime, here’s an article by her on this topic from January 2003 in the Christian Century: plain-old-sloth-norris