One Thought Too Many

The philosopher Bernard Williams was fond of considering this sort of ethical dilemma: A man who rushes into a burning building must choose between saving his beloved wife or a complete stranger. What does he do? Well, obviously, he saves his wife. He does so not because that decision necessarily advances the greater good of mankind or logically follows from the application of a cost-benefit analysis. He does so because he loves her. Looking for consequentialist justifications under these kinds of circumstances, Williams argued, is to have "one thought too many."

It sometimes seems as though the world conspires to force us to have "one thought too many." We are besieged with data and trivia and gossip and opinion, often presented as if these things were of equal significance and reliability. We have become a nation of multi-taskers, and in the process have forgotten the old adage that the fox who chases two rabbits will not catch either of them. We have become frantic enthusiasts for constant stimulation, and along the way have lost our love of simplicity and our capacity for sitting still and being at peace.

If Lent is a season of searching, then it is also a season of stillness. Certainly, it is a time when we should labor to step forward and do God's work. But it is also a time when we should try to preserve some opportunities for quiet reflection, for getting away from the "one thought too many," and for focusing single mindedly on the one thought that matters.

When Jesus ended his forty-day withdrawal into the wilderness -- the time we remember during Lent -- he initiated in earnest his ministry among the people. He called some to follow, and they immediately left their nets and their tax collecting stations to do so. Some others, like a very righteous but also very rich young man, could not quite bring themselves to reach the same decision. They thought they had more important things to do.