Intrigued by the title of a book by the New York Times columnist Thomas L. Friedman, I read it when it came out in 2016. An occasional reader of Friedman’s column because I’m interested in technology and globalization, I wondered what Thank You for Being Late could possibly mean.
In short, the title came from an incident in which someone with whom Friedman was scheduled to meet didn’t arrive on time. On this particular day, rather than huff and puff at the offending friend’s disrespect for his time—which is a more common response than most of us are willing to admit in our previously over-scheduled days—Friedman had used the time to pause and reflect on the possibilities and dangers inherent in the chaotically accelerating speed with which new technologies were becoming available and globalization of the marketplaces was becoming further entrenched. The possibilities are mind-boggling, but the dangers too. The evidence is that humans have not evolved as quickly, i.e., are not cognitively or emotionally equipped to adapt with equal speed to the changes. The title, as well as the content of the book, was a call for us to slow down for a moment ourselves and contemplate the meaning and purpose of our lives in the midst of the malaise.
Having grown up in a rural community attending a small Southern Baptist church largely populated with the farming families, I immediately thought of the wisdom of the Sabbath. It was easier in those days—I’m old enough to remember when shopping on Sundays was virtually impossible because store owners took their Sabbaths as well. Except for mom-and-pop shops in both rural and suburban towns, and folks like Truett Cathy, whose commitment to Sabbath is still demonstrated by the closure of Chick-Fil-A restaurants on Sundays, the adoption of the custom has disappeared from the landscape largely. Until now.
Predictably, as with the full transition from horse-drawn carriages to automobiles, which Friedman estimates took 30 years, we humans aren’t built for ongoing, ever-increasing change. Although Moore’s law of technology (which basically codified a rate of technological advances that rendered new discoveries obsolete in 1.5 to 2 years) continues—what number iPhone or Android are you carrying now?—it still takes humans about 15 years to move from the “early adopter” stage to full integration of new products and services.
We can’t keep up the pace, blindly moving forward and struggling to hold on to the tail of the tiger. Nor should we want to. We need time to think, to process, to determine if the tail we have wrapped our white-knuckled fingers around indeed belongs to the right tiger for us.
I don’t know why we have to have an event like 9/11 or a worldwide pandemic to bring us to a screeching halt. But here we are, and in many ways, I’m thankful. The coronavirus, like Friedman’s colleague late to the meeting, has forced us to stop. We can use it to panic, to demonstrate our inherent selfishness like those who early on hoarded toilet tissue and now some, with even guns in hand, who suggest that they are the centers of our universe—and that our First Amendment rights include the right to go to Target, their favorite pawn shop or tavern, or in-person church service, no matter whose inalienable right to life is violated in the process.
Or we can take a breath, assess our surroundings, and reflect. In the Lord’s Prayer, when Jesus taught his disciples to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread,” I’m convinced it was a double entendre. I’m sure he probably meant us to pray for guidance in securing our basic needs for food and water, but I don’t think he was just talking about “Nature’s Own” or “Sara Lee” or the goods from the bakery downtown. After all, he’s the one who, according to the story of his time in the desert, also said, “Man does not live by bread alone.”
We have a chance here to reevaluate what we’ve been focusing our time and energies on, to reconnect on a personal level with those we love and even with those we used to just pass in the hall at work with—via amazing technologies like Zoom and its peers that were little more than ideas less than 15 years ago. And an opportunity to revisit the tigers whose tails we’ve grabbed.
Despite the fact that we were brought to this place kicking and screaming, together, we can be the change we desperately need.
Prodigal Prophet 
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