If a man is judged by what—and whom—he surrounds himself with, what chance have any of us? Jesus himself said that it was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to gain the kingdom of heaven. Most of us do not consider ourselves “rich”, yet if we compare the average American (or other first world citizen) to the rich men of Christ’s time, we cannot help but see the disparity.
Stop and ask yourself: how much of my life is dependent upon convenience? Better yet, turn the question around: How much inconvenience is there in my life, and how well do I cope with it? The devil is in the details, they say, and never does this saying feel more true than when we find ourselves stuck dealing with details without the help of some sort of convenience, whether it is a computer or an appliance or a car or even just a steady supply of electricity.
Our lives are so filled with conveniences, we couldn’t count them if we tried! 
We wake up in the morning thanks to our alarm clocks; we get ready for our day with the help of indoor plumbing, heated water, and various commercial grooming products and appliances. Our sheets, blankets, mattresses, pillows, towels, clothes, and shoes are mass produced and affordable. Our meals, whether cooked from scratch or pre-prepared, are readily available from local supermarkets or restaurants, prepared and stored in any number of convenient contraptions and containers. We get around with machines requiring little more than the turn of a key and periodic maintenance: with cars parked conveniently in our attached garages, with bikes, with readily accessible trains and buses, with elevators and escalators. We can fill our time during the commute with radio, CD’s, books or recorded books, all in air conditioned or heated comfort.
Most of us then spend our day utilizing myriad conveniences that run the gamut from specialized office equipment to state-of-the-art machinery to the tiniest of labor-saving devices. We are blasted with information from all directions through news and advertising. We connect with others by phone or e-mail or blogs or websites or even webcams; we entertain ourselves with orgies of conveniences: TV, movies, video games, music, comfortable furniture; we attend millions of activities and venues and special interest groups. We can even enjoy sports without actually partaking in them or even being present.
When it gets dark, we flip a switch. With almost no effort, our houses stay warm or cool. With slightly more effort, our clothes and dishes are clean and dry. We may even have the convenience of having someone else do all the cleaning, mowing and other maintenance for us.
When we fall ill, we have merely to pop an over-the-counter medication, or visit our doctor for other magic pills. Through the convenience of insurance, it’s all covered. Even when heart disease or cancer or diabetes threaten, we can rely on the convenience of modern medicine to rescue us from the inconvenience of changing our habits.
And that is really what it comes down to: habits. When our habits revolve around ease, comfort, and convenience, it is all too easy to view inconvenience as if it were the root of all evil. Which brings me back to my question: How much inconvenience is there in my life, and how well do I cope with it? Most of us—myself included—have a conditioned response of impatience with these annoyances. Worse yet, we undergo endless anxiety in the name of maintaining--or expanding--our level of convenience.
When the person in the car in front of you is being a doofus, how do you react? What happens when you have to wait in a long line? Can you keep your cool when something breaks down? When you are stuck in a protracted power outage, do you feel like you don’t know what to do with yourself?
Our dependence upon the constant convenience of our lives distracts us from our humanity—from our strengths and our frailties—but most of all, it distracts us from the sense that out there exists that than which no greater thing can be imagined…
Though it is not necessary to be a Luddite in order to effectively contemplate the divine, the spiritual benefits we gain through the discipline of ‘doing things the hard way’ are unmistakable.
For when we look at the things that truly matter in our lives, we find that, invariably, they are inconvenient, messy, and downright hard-to-deal-with. Yet the rewards far outweigh the hassle—and when we seek to avoid the trouble of dealing with them, our lives are ever less rich and meaningful (though we sometimes fail to realize it). These nuisances may include relationships with others…raising children…making or building or creating things…learning new skills…breaking bad habits…practicing virtue…going to church/praying the rosary, etc… What would you add to this list?
So would I be ecstatically happy if I were suddenly uprooted from my life and sent to live among the Amish? I doubt it. But I have no doubt that I would grow spiritually from the experience in ways that are utterly impossible to predict.
…Amish boot camp for the spiritually congested…now there’s a concept!
In sum, there is a good reason why we often use the word virtue when we speak of hard work, but not when we speak of using the many conveniences listed above. The good news is that we can practice that virtue without becoming a hermit in the desert. Recognizing conveniences for what they are—merely conveniences, and not necessities—is of the utmost importance. Whether we manage to divorce ourselves from them physically or only spiritually, entirely or only partially—the greatest hope we can have of avoiding the fate of the rich man is to set about extricating ourselves from our relationship with comfort and with convenience.
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