"idle hands are the devil's workshop"

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In the triage that is called aging, it's easy to imagine that persuaded Christians had it partly right: "Idle hands are the devil's workshop" is a fortune-cookie phrase and encouragement whose origins cannot be nailed down and yet -- since it includes a presumably Christian devil -- seems to take nourishment from a Christian frame of reference.

How shall man know and express God? It is through man's good works that God can be known ... a suggestion that goes pretty far, but not quite far enough. And if I've got that Q and A right, then idle hands would tend to create a lot of evil -- the opposite (not the obvious and necessary complement) of God.

Conveniently, the phrase is also an industrialist's wet dream since to bring a religious or moral perspective to anything that will generate so much income has got to feel good.

In the triage that is called aging, the literal heavy-lifting that was possible in youth dwindles and fades. Mowing the lawn, cleaning out the cellar, loading the tractor-trailer, carrying 4x8 sheets of plywood, and helping little old ladies with the groceries ... well, the mind may be willing, but the 'hands' grow weak. What once could be done can no longer be done. And that leaves those who are aging with time on their hands.

And -- Nellie bar the gate! -- with time to be idle, one of the weed-strewn possibilities is the capacity to settle down to a large plate of being "right." If you can't do anything, then at least you can be right. Being right is not so heavy as a 4x8 piece of plywood. And more than that, it's both assertive and comforting. If you can't do something, at least you can be right ... which may account for why the elderly are sometimes very crabby.

Not that those whose hands aren't idle are any less prone to being right, but there are more intermissions for actually getting something done, some work, some indicator, for those inclined that way, to know God.

One of the strange aspects of doing anything is the capacity to forget about right and wrong. When engrossed in a project, from pounding a nail to painting a picture to sneezing or kissing, the fact is that right and wrong fall away. Only later do the philosophers and theologians and zombies go to work. This was a "good" thing or a "bad" thing -- a "right" thing or a "wrong" thing. In the midst of some busy-handed activity, there is just the activity. Past, present and future dissolve. Good and bad, God and devil, right and wrong are no where in sight. In the midst of doing, God may be known, but the things of the past (belief, assessment, hope, etc.) are set aside .... until, with the luxury of hindsight, someone calls them God's works... the eradication of the devil's workshop.

In the triage of aging, when the hands idle all by themselves, there is more time to live in the past, to eat stale food, and to be right.

To know God is only possible through the work at hand, by some estimates. It's not a bad estimate, but I think it lacks a completeness that would assure peace of mind.What it lacks is an answer to the question, "If God can only be known through man's works ... then what the hell does man know when he knows God?" To answer "more work" is theologically satisfying, perhaps, but hardly stills the uncertain heart. All that does is set up a hamster-in-a-treadmill fatalism ... which, when sprinkled the philosophical holy water, is deemed to be "all you need to know." This answer my meet the income needs of institutions, but it falls short of the human heart.

What is it that is known -- right now -- when matters of right and wrong, God and man, idle and working simply play no role? It may be pleasing to live in the past (belief, right and wrong, idle and working, etc.) because it is there that meaning and explanation find their nourishment. But are meaning and explanation enough to explain this very present, this place of work, this no-holds-barred sneeze?

Idle hands are the devil's workshop. Likewise they are God's playground. There is no harm in playing idle games, but wouldn't it be nice to know who's playing? To complete what is obvious? To stop putting nickels and dimes in someone else's plate?

It's simply not enough to rely on explanations -- to be old and crabby and right.

Who's playing this game?

Honestly!?

Really!

Don't ask me ... I'm just an old, crabby fart.
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