o Karoshi—the Japanese term for “death from overwork”
o The most common causes of Karoshi are heart attack and stroke
o The first case of Karoshi was reported in 1969
o The Japanese Ministry of Labor began keeping yearly statistics on Karoshi in 1987
o Some ten thousand deaths per year are now attributed to Karoshi
– Jim Loehr and Tony Schwartz, The Power of Full Engagement
Japanese workaholism has grown in recent decades to epic proportions. One case study involved a Japanese assembly line worker at a Mazda plant who died suddenly at the young age of forty-five. Immediately prior to his untimely death, the man had worked for thirteen consecutive days, including night shifts. He literally worked himself to death. Though extreme, such an example of overwork sobers us. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, and can even kill him! We are designed to cultivate periods of effective rest into our day, week, month, and year.
On the other hand, we have also seen examples in American culture where people die at an early age for want of something meaningful in which to invest their lives. Documented evidence shows that, upon retirement, many people shorten their lives due to a lack of meaningful involvement and engagement. In her excellent book, Another Country: Navigating the Emotional Terrain of Our Elders, Dr. Mary Pipher writes, “The loss of work has killed many a person. For men who have few interests outside of work, the first few years after retirement are critical. They must find new ways to structure their time, new ways to be respected in their families, and new ways to be useful.” We are designed to cultivate investments of productive and useful time and energy for the good of others.
Author Mark Buchanan captures the classic American Trap in his fine book, The Rest of God. Buchanan observes that American culture has come to value endless luxury and leisure as the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. In fact, many of us get trapped in what cultural historian Witold Rybczynski calls “Waiting for the Weekend,” an attitude that endures work only as a mind-numbing interlude to where life is really lived—on the weekend. In this mode, we believe that life should be one big weekend. “If only every day were Saturday, nothing but leisure,” we think. But sadly, endless leisure leads only to apathy and even hopelessness. Leisure is useful and even essential, but only when placed in contrast to meaningful work.
I am convinced that a life well-lived is one marbled with both responsible and meaningful work as well as guarded and deeply enjoyable rest. Pervading this life should be an overarching sense of rest, however. In other words, rest is not just a day of the week, but a quality of living. Such an attitude of rest sees both work and leisure not as obligations, but as opportunities. Hardship and meaningful struggle are woven throughout recreation and leisure. Of course, working to secure the good of others should always be the backdrop of such as life. Such a life sees the ticking of the clock not as a cruel taskmaster of obligations, but as an array of opportunities. It positively asserts that we can make the best of circumstances with a grateful and creative attitude. A life well lived is driven not by dutiful tasks and cold responsibilities, but by a passionate desire to make the most of each season of life for the glory of God and the good of others.
We would do well to learn a lesson from Aslan in C.S. Lewis’ classic novel, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. After his tragic death at the hand of the White Witch, the kingly lion Aslan conquers death and is greeted again by the dear children, Susan and Lucy. What is the first thing the majestic Aslan does in their tearful reunion? He plays…
‘Oh, children,’ said the Lion, ‘I feel my strength coming back to me. Oh, children, catch me if you can!” He stood for a second, his eyes very bright, his limbs quivering, lashing himsel with his tail. Then he made a leap over their heads and landed on the other side of the Table. Laughing, though she didn’t know why, Lucy scrambled over it to reach him. Aslan leaped again. A mad chase began. Round and round the hilltop he led them, now hopelessly out of their reach, now letting them almost catch his tail, now diving between them, now tossing them in the air with his huge and beautifully velveted paws and catching them again,and now stopping unexpectedly so that all three of them rolled over together in a happy laughing heap of fur and arms and legs. It was such a romp as no one has ever had except in Narnia; and whether it was more like playing with a thunderstorm or playing with a kitten Lucy could never make up her mind. And the funny thing was that when all three finally lay together panting in the sun the girls no longer felt in the least tired or hungry or thirsty.
–C.S. Lewis, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe,
quoted by Mark Buchanan in The Rest of God.
