How can a society that exists on instant mashed potatoes

Hear the lament of Paul Sweeney, who asked with piercing irony: “How can a society that exists on instant mashed potatoes, packaged cake mixes, frozen dinners, and instant cameras teach patience to its young?” In these words he speaks not merely of food or technology, but of a deeper ailment: the hunger for speed, the worship of convenience, the surrender of patience. When everything is made instant, the soul itself forgets how to wait, how to labor, how to endure. And without endurance, no virtue can be cultivated, no greatness achieved.

The ancients knew this well. The farmer who sows must wait for the seasons. The sculptor must chisel slowly, shaping stone with patience until beauty emerges. The warrior must train for years before stepping onto the battlefield. Life itself was once a long apprenticeship in patience, for nothing of value came swiftly. Sweeney’s words expose the tragedy of modern life: a society of immediacy cannot form souls that understand the slow work of growth, sacrifice, and discipline.

Consider the tale of Michelangelo painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. For four long years he bent his body on scaffolds, his neck strained, his arms weary. He endured dust, fatigue, and solitude. Had he demanded instant results, the masterpiece would never have been born. Great art, like great character, requires time. How, then, can children raised in a culture of instant meals and instant gratification be expected to value the long, hard path that leads to greatness? Sweeney’s question is a cry of warning.

History too offers darker lessons. In times of plenty, when societies sought only quick comfort, decline followed. The Romans, once patient builders of roads and law, grew addicted to the immediacy of games, feasts, and pleasures. Bread and circuses replaced labor and duty, and the empire rotted from within. A society that forgets patience forgets resilience, and without resilience, it cannot endure hardship when it comes. Thus Sweeney’s words echo across centuries: a people trained only in instant gratification are unfit to bear the trials of life.

The deeper meaning is this: patience is not only a virtue, it is the soil from which all virtues spring. Without patience, love falters, for love endures. Without patience, wisdom dies, for wisdom waits and listens. Without patience, courage collapses, for courage often means holding firm through long trials. To raise the young without teaching them patience is to prepare them not for life, but for collapse when life refuses to be instant.

The lesson for us, O listener, is clear: resist the tyranny of speed. Do not despise slow work, nor shun long effort. Teach the young not only to enjoy what is easy and instant, but to labor for what is difficult and enduring. Show them the beauty of a meal cooked slowly, the pride of a skill mastered over years, the joy of waiting for a harvest. In this way, you cultivate not only patience, but strength of soul.

Therefore, let Sweeney’s words be taken to heart: “How can a society… teach patience to its young?” Let them remind us that convenience, while useful, must never become our master. If we would raise children of resilience and courage, we must teach them to wait, to work, to endure. For patience is the root of greatness, and without it, even the richest society will wither into weakness.

And so, remember this wisdom: instant things may fill the stomach, but only patience fills the soul. Guard it, teach it, live it, and you will pass down to the young not only survival, but the strength to flourish in a world that demands endurance.