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Little Gods

There's a passage in George Orwell's 1984 where the main character is forced to work ninety hours in one week. Beds are brought to workstations, food is delivered desk-side, glasses become fogged every few minutes, and the main character is too tired to care much about his life.

Not many of us, I hope, are forced to work to that extent, but working too much has a definite effect on a person's psychological well-being. Just as a person's non-essential body functions shut down when in an emergency, so all "non-essential" areas of life diminish when overcome with work.

By "non-essential," I specifically mean that relationships lose their value. Even if we may not intend for it to become so, in fact, work can become in us a drug, our single source of purpose, the one unfailing thing to which we can turn where all else-- in our eyes-- fails. Why should this be surprising? Why should it be surprising that testing and retesting our abilities in work-- and overcoming these challenges each time-- satisfies our desire for achievement? Why should it be surprising that we turn again and again to work as one of the few things in life that we can control?

We can, in fact, elevate work to the level of the divine. We worship it, place it unconsciously upon the mantles of our minds as little gods to be adored for their benevolence and provision. We feel that sense of purpose and-- for a time-- believe that it will sustain us forever. Like the other gods, however, this god of work is deceptive, unsatisfying, and exacting in the inhuman expectations it places upon us. When we finally grow weary, and can work no longer-- whether from actual fatigue or from old age-- we find ourselves alone, looking back on our lives and wondering how we could have been so foolish.

It reminds me of the movie Hurt Locker. The theme of that movie is "War is a drug," the idea being that some people need the adrenaline from conflict, and would rather live their lives for that rush than live it for any more important reason. So it is here. Work can be that drug, god, or whatever metaphor you want to use to describe it as that necessary thing to which we turn for security. I choose relationships, however. I will choose friends, and I will choose love. I am grateful that I have a job, but I choose not to let it become all-important to me. I'm crushing the god of work in my life, and replacing it with a cross.
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