“Mom, I’m bored!” complains a young girl only days into summer vacation. Her mother motions to a closet full of toys and then to the trampoline and playground in the backyard, only to hear more complaints: “I don’t like those toys…. It’s too hot outside!” This familiar scene of boredom resembles a deeper spiritual condition. Despite living in God’s creation and surrounded by his goodness, mankind often responds with frustration and even resistance.
J. Snell’s Acedia and Its Discontents: Metaphysical Boredom in an Empire of Desire explores this troubling dynamic and argues that modern culture suffers from the subtle but soul-sapping boredom known as acedia. Drawing extensively from the Catholic intellectual tradition, with figures such as Thomas Aquinas and John Paul II, Snell emphasizes that acedia—often translated as sloth—is far more serious than laziness or momentary boredom. “Rather it reveals frustration and hate, disgust at place and ‘life itself’” (10) and stems from “a failure of love—an aversion to being, a sadness at the good, and an inability to act well” (111).
Snell repeatedly draws from the creation account to demonstrate that humans were made to work, care for the world, and participate in God’s rule. Adam’s responsibility in naming the animals, his relationship with Eve, and their governing of the garden illustrate how all people are meant to recognize and participate in creation’s goodness. Yet people often reject these responsibilities, treating work, relationships, and the order of creation as burdens. Afraid to lose their sense of individual freedom, they throw off these weighty demands. In doing so, they “bleach” the world around them—stripping objects, relationships, and even life itself of their dignity. Those infected with acedia exchange the deep fulfillment of engaging with creation for fleeting pleasures of desire.
Having warned the reader of acedia’s danger, Snell offers a twofold antidote: Sabbath observance and diligence in the little things of life. The Sabbath, reminiscent of God’s rest and given to reorient the Israelites from a lifeless culture of slavery, refocuses people on the goodness of God’s creation. Every aspect of this creation is something to be celebrated and embraced, even menial tasks. With this mindset, something as simple as cutting an onion can be a concrete way of affirming the dignity of God’s creation. This intention and appreciation of creation have the power to shake people out of spiritual malaise and draw them into a meaningful life. Instead of seeking personal freedom that results in emptiness, the person who submits to God’s created order discovers life as it was always intended.
Overall, the book is cohesive in its structure and compelling in its tone. Though only 127 pages, Snell packs each paragraph with substance. To borrow Snell’s own term for a meaningful life, the writing itself can feel weighty, and may not be immediately accessible to the casual reader. Yet those who take up the task will find a rich blend of theological reflection, philosophical argument, and poetic probing into the heart of man.
Snell excels in uncovering the malady of acedia. Rather than attempting to prove its prevalence through statistics or personal anecdotes, he exposes its root cause: mankind’s desire for freedom apart from truth. His explanation of this fundamental issue is clear and accessible. One does not need to grasp the finer points of philosophy to understand the contrast between a life that is light and one that is weighed down. With this clearer sense of the cause of acedia, readers are better equipped to recognize its symptoms within today’s culture. Though Snell never states this aim directly, the attentive reader will notice the book’s implicit warning: acedia is a quiet but destructive condition.
While Snell maintains a cohesive and logical presentation of the malady throughout, there are a few areas where his perspective differs from confessional Lutheran teaching. Snell proposes an ongoing inherent and ontological goodness in people and creation. Mankind and creation exist because God affirms their goodness. By elevating the created order—a tendency which can sound pantheistic to the Lutheran reader—Snell suggests that God’s grace works through participating in creation. That is, people participate in their inherent goodness by engaging in the goodness of creation.
Similarly, Snell’s treats Sabbath and vocation as the tasks people must accomplish to overcome acedia. Sabbath becomes an acquired skill rather than a gift of rest. Vocation becomes the means to virtue rather than a life empowered by Christ.
Despite these fundamental differences, Lutheran readers can still benefit from Snell’s insights when understood properly. Though Snell’s book does not draw directly from the book of Ecclesiastes, the two are strikingly similar. In addressing a listless life devoid of meaning, the Teacher encourages mankind to embrace work and embrace creation (cf. Ecclesiastes 2:24-26, 7:7-10, et al.). The key to understanding Solomon and Snell is justification. Without the foundation of justification, their carpe diem mindset devolves into hedonism or nihilism.
Snell certainly does not exclude justification, but his approach takes the form of sanative justification (improving or healing the sinner). With the biblical foundation of forensic justification (declaring the sinner to be righteous), much of Snell’s writing becomes an even more effective antidote to acedia. In Christ, Sabbath remains rest, and the burden of life is light. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).
In sum, Snell examines the anthropological problem of acedia with logical structure and compelling argument. Acedia and Its Discontents sounds a relevant warning of a culture-wide issue and offers a refreshing appreciation of God’s creation. While other books may discuss similar issues such as spiritual malaise and vocation in more accessible language, the “heavy lifting” of this book will challenge and reward the reader. Therefore, I recommend this book—at least to anyone who is ready to think philosophically about cutting an onion.