Worry

Jesus told his followers not to become overwhelmed with worry. The Gospels of Matthew and Luke both report what may have been the same teaching about worry. Here is the version from Matthew from the New Revised Standard Version:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by worrying can add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For it is the gentiles who seek all these things, and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” (Matthew 6:25-34)

Not worrying, however, is easier said than done, especially for some people. We often joke in our family about the “worry gene.” Without any evidence based in genetic research, it seems like there is a tendency to worry that is passed from generation to generation. I personally am not much of a worrier, but I have family members who are. The stories of some bring understanding to their worries. My mother-in-law often worried about a lot of things, including things that were beyond her control. She and I are both early risers and sometimes we would talk in the mornings before the others were up. She would have a long list of things about which she worried. As I got to know her better, it seemed to me that her tendency to worry was due, in part, to some very difficult years in her childhood and teens. Her father died when she was young, leaving her and her mother without any means of financial support. Her siblings were out of the home, but she had to set aside some of her plans and dreams to work alongside her mother at any job that would provide a bit of income. They lived in one of the most impoverished counties in the United States during the Great Depression and they didn’t have many options. There were times when they were hungry and short of food. I can’t tell her whole story in this journal entry. I don’t know her full story. But what I do know about her is that the tendency to worry came in part from her experiences of hard times.

There are, however, people who are worriers even though they don’t live in a particularly worrisome environment. Over the span of a career as a minister I have met people who fretted over their finances even though they lived privileged lives. Their worry about becoming poor prevented them from being generous, even to family members, and from my perspective, robbed them of some of the joy of living. I have listened to perfectly healthy people who were worried about injury and disease to the point that it prevented them from taking reasonable risk and caused them to miss out on grand adventures.

I once read or heard that there is a Buddhist teaching that every person has one of five faults: worry, anger, depression, self blame, and sensual soothing. I’m not clear on the whole teaching, and I don’t know if there are only five faults or if everyone is affected, but I do know that some people slip into worry more easily than others.

I don’t think that I’m much of a worrier. I don’t lose sleep over much these days, and when I did lose sleep it seemed to me to be about genuine risk and threat. There have been times when I worried about the health and safety of our children. It is natural for parents an infant to worry as they learn to provide care for a new human being who is very vulnerable. It is also natural for parents of young adults to have some fears about the dangers their children face.

For the most part, however, I have the ability to face a reasonable amount of risk. I was a downhill skier before we wore helmets. I’ve kayaked and canoed in white water. I’ve piloted hang gliders and airplanes. I have always convinced myself that I was careful about safety and that the risks I was taking were reasonable. But I have taken risks that others would not take.

The world in which we live today, however, is enough to make anyone anxious and worried. After two years of pandemic we know that the effects of Covid can be severe and fatal. We know how vulnerable we all are. We know that vaccines, though effective, are not a guarantee.

We have sufficient evidence of human-caused global climate change to raise our fear that this planet might become uninhabitable for humans. At a bare minimum humans face the reality of mass migration, widespread starvation and global pandemic. It is not hard to worry about the world our grandchildren are inheriting from us.

Those among us who worry the most may in fact be right about the dangers we face. This may be a time when alarm is the appropriate response to the circumstances in which we find ourselves.

And yet we find ourselves with Jesus’ teaching. “So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”

I pray that I will find just enough worry to enable me to live responsibly today without being overwhelmed by anxieties about tomorrow. It is, I believe, a delicate balance.

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