Chronos and kairos

"There is a pervasive form of contemporary violence to which the idealist, fighting for peace by nonviolent methods, most easily succumbs: activism and overwork. The rush and pressure of modern life are a form, perhaps the most common form, of its innate violence. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands. To commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything is to succumb to violence. The frenzy of the activist neutralizes his work, because it kills the root of inner wisdom which makes work fruitful." (Thomas Merton)

Merton was himself what most would describe as an activist in the antiwar movement of the 1960s . Yet in this passage he identifies both the daily lives of many activists, and the personal habits of almost all modern physicians, as a way of participating in violence against human values, rather than ways of promoting peace and health.

For many students the most important distinction offered that between chronological or 'clock' time, on the one, and contemplative time on the other. Relying solely on the first and devaluing the second pushes otherwise laudable impulses—for example, to serve others—into the realm of violence. The reading which seems to make the lasting impression describes the difference between two Greek words for time. While chronos refers to what can be measured by the clock or calendar, kairos refers instead to time that cannot be measured, time that is separated instead into periods of meaning. In reflection one temporarily steps outside of chronological time to see things from a different level and with a more broadly purposeful perspective (Bloomquist, 1997). In many ways the distinction between chronos and kairos parallels Covey's distinction between the urgent and the important. Helping students learn to value kairos in their lives, and to resist being swallowed by chronos, is a critical goal of spirituality teaching.

We describe a variety of exercises as aids in regular reflection. These include transcendental and other forms of meditation, yoga, relaxation response, contemplation, and journaling. Each is a means toward an inward focus, a way to find space within oneself despite a culture so much at odds with it. The intensity and sensory over-stimulation of contemporary life almost deny the reality of anything quieter. Again, however, the course does not encourage spirituality as escape from the world. On the contrary: an inner life is part of, and nourishes a full and balanced life…

The medical curriculum emphasizes scientific and technical skills, and stresses that, without continuing education, physicians become unable to care for their patients. Practice is needed for technical skills—even the best physicians soon become rusty if they do not do a procedure for a while. The humane skills that constitute virtuous behavior—such things as imparting hope, and showing compassion through intensive listening—likewise require practice. The physician's ability to promote healing depends on both sets of skills. Covey (1989) has shrewdly observed that ability and character tend to go together; allowing one's abilities to atrophy through inadequate practice commonly reflects a character flaw. And, as Richard Gula notes, 'We must practice virtuous activity so that the virtues become habits, or second nature to us. We become trustworthy by doing acts of trustworthiness; we become altruistic by doing acts of altruism.'

Judith Andre, Jake Foglio, Howard Brody, "Moral Growth, Spirituality, and Activism: the Humanities in Medical Education"