There’s a story about a wealthy Greek American who visited one of his homeland’s islands on vacation. While out walking he meets a Greek man sipping Greece’s national drink, ouzo, while watching the sun set over the ocean. The American notices a stand of olive trees behind the man and asked whose trees they were. “They’re mine,” the Greek man said. The trees are unharvested, just dropping olives all over the ground. “Don’t you harvest the olives?” the American asks. “I just pick one when I want one,” the man says. The American remarked how the Greek man could prune the trees and harvest the olives and sell them for a great profit. “The demand for olives and olive oil are only going to increase. You could ramp up your production even more by planting more trees. You could make a killing!” “What would I do with the money?” the Greek man asks. “You could build a big house and hire people to do everything for you.” The Greek man responds, “And then what?” The incredulous American says, “Well then you could do whatever you want!” And the Greek man says, “You mean like sit outside and drink ouzo at sunset?”
That was one of the few stories I had ever heard about modern Greece. Since I know more about ancient Greece than the modern country, it is a place I had always thought would be interesting to visit. My brief experience there in transit between sabbatical destinations this July confirmed something of the spirit of the story about the old man drinking ouzo at sunset. When our Albanian friend checked us into our hotel in Thessaloniki for the night, a small spot right on the beach, he told me I should pay for the rooms that night rather than in the morning. “I don’t know what time he gets up in the morning,” he explained, referring to the hotel owner. That surprised me, as we wouldn’t be leaving until 8:30am, and what hotel doesn’t have someone available at that time in the morning? But I took our friend’s advice and paid after a swim in the ocean and a late dinner.
At our lunch stop in Kastoria, Greece our two adventurous seafood lovers ordered the octopus.
And they both finished it.
Our Greek dinner, by the way, was delicious. Unfortunately I have no pictures to share. We ate at a traditional “taverna,” where the menu is basically meat. Good meat, as we soon discovered. My second son and I took a look at the menu and immediately agreed, “We have to order that.” Goat chops. Because where else would you find that on the menu? Unfortunately, they were all out of goat chops. The lamb chops were quite tasty, but not as exciting. The pork souvlaki, greek salad with huge slabs of feta cheese, and other items were also delicious. The restaurant was filling up more and more until the time we left around 10:00pm. Late, long dinners are a thing in Greece, as I hear they are in other parts of Europe.
After that late dinner the proprietor of the hotel was up with some friends or customers (it was hard to tell, maybe there’s no difference) watching TV and chatting, eating, and drinking. He seemed only vaguely interested in taking my payment. He sent his daughter or employee (again it was hard to tell) to run my credit card. When I was paying, I noticed a sign saying that breakfast was only served from 9:00-10:30am. In the morning, sure enough there was no sign of the hotel owner or anyone else when we left at 8:30. How late can he sleep in and still run his hotel? (Or maybe the question, given Greek culture, is how early could he go to bed and still run his hotel?)
You may have heard of the Slow Food movement, which emphasizes the opposite values of our American fast food culture: fresh ingredients cooked well, enjoyed with friends over extended mealtimes. It is the opposite of a drive thru meal. (I’ll admit I am a fan of the idea, although I have never participated in anything officially Slow Food). My brief experience in Greece suggests that Greek people don’t need a Slow Food movement; the Greek mindset and pace of life is Slow Food. To be fair, my experience was extremely limited, and I’m sure there are Greek workaholics too. I wonder about the possibility of balancing the American values of efficiency and productivity with the Slow Food value of leisurely enjoyment of food and friendship.
The story of the farmer sipping ouzo – and the real life people who value Slow Food over fast food, or conversation over productivity – raise questions about our American race for making things bigger, better, faster, and richer: And then what? When do you get to the point that you can enjoy things? The Greek farmer was already doing what he wanted – enjoy the sunset. But those that want always more – can they ever enjoy it?
Jesus told a parable about a man with the bigger and richer mindset. He faced what we would call a “good problem” – he had no more room in his barns for his abundant crops. So he said to himself, “This is what I’ll do. I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store my surplus grain. And I’ll say to myself, ‘You have plenty of grain laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry’” (Luke 12:18-19). After a great push of productivity to tear down his barns and build new ones he could then “take life easy; eat, drink, and be merry.” The whole thing sounds uncomfortably like the way many people think of work and retirement. And it sounds like the American who told the Greek man he could work hard so that later he could enjoy the very thing he was already doing.
The point of Jesus’ parable, though, is not about giving up productivity for a Slow Food style dinner in the comfort of one’s friends, nice as that may be. I certainly enjoyed the meal at the restaurant, even without the goat chops – and I give thanks to God for good food, especially eaten in good company. God confronts the greedy man: “You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have stored up for yourself?” And Jesus delivers a punch to the gut when he sums up the lesson for us all: “This is how it will be with whoever stores up things for themselves, but is not rich towards God” (Luke 12:20-21).
The point of the parable is not that the man should slow down and enjoy life a little more by sipping ouzo under unharvested fruit, and the point is not that he should be more productive either. It is about generosity towards God. The value of generosity towards God forces us to rethink our both our values of work/productivity/fast food and leisure/take it easy/slow food. Workaholism and laziness are both problems. Work for the sake of generosity towards lines up work and rest correctly. Since generosity towards God includes showing generosity to the poor, that might mean harvesting those olives, or paying someone a fair wage to do it. It might mean planting more crops, and then using the surplus for the needs of others, rather than one’s own leisure and pleasure. Efficiency, productivity, resourcefulness – the “Protestant work ethic” that made America tick – can be great tools. The end goal, however, can either be to store up things for oneself or greater generosity towards God. And I think you can enjoy a great meal along the way.