Whenever I talk to retired friends or acquaintances, they invariably tell me that they are “busier than ever.” They have taken up learning, or relearning, to play musical instruments, participate in creative writing workshops, take courses in adult education programs, jog, kayak, bird watch, and take edifying trips to ancient monuments or impoverished Third World countries. They cannot sit still. President Carter won’t stop writing books, shaking hands of strangers, and traveling ceaselessly in pursuit of good causes. Advertisements for retirement communities promise a mind-boggling range of recreational, cultural, and social activities. It may indeed be true that the retired are busier than ever.

If so, the question arises why so many prosperous Americans past the prime of life and regular employment are so intent on squeezing so many activities into their lives. Does the absence of routinized commitments and obligations create a threatening void that must be filled in haste to avert the onset of a profound unease? Does the lack of busyness drain life of all purpose and meaning? Are we so programmed that our nature abhors the vacuum in our schedules?

There is of course nothing wrong with attempting to become a renaissance man or woman at an advanced age, or trying to keep fit physically and mentally, to do things one had less or no opportunity to do at an earlier age. But there is an urgency and compulsiveness that color these endeavors, a veritable horror of idleness, of being left with time for reflection that might lead to contemplating the approach of death. The frantic activism of the old and aging suggests that we are ill equipped, in this most religious of all modern Western societies, to face death.

A better understanding of these attitudes has to take into account the deeply entrenched, long-standing veneration of being busy in American culture, which allows the benefits of busyness to go unspecified. What matters is to be occupied, not with what. American optimism, its youth culture, and the belief that there is a solution for every problem also play a part. At an advanced age, these attitudes and beliefs seem to reappear with new urgency and intensity.

In traditional societies, the old were considered repositories of wisdom and had high social standing. Even in contemporary Europe, the old have more social and familial functions and ties and therefore fewer reasons to feel superfluous and isolated. These functions and ties make life more meaningful, and there is less pressure to find meaning by being busy. In American society, the old have become more marginal and that is likely to contribute to this compulsive, meaning-seeking activism. In America, most older people do not live with their children and grandchildren, and often not even anywhere near them. Moreover, a very large portion of Americans are retired and in fairly good health.

At the same time, in American society, old age is often glorified, but not for the wisdom or the important social functions which used to be associated with it. Rather, American culture values the leisure time that old age affords. But an abundance of leisure uninformed by a philosophy of life or substantial intellectual resources may give rise to escapism, meaningless routines, and rushing around. It seems that human beings are not programmed to enjoy unlimited amounts of leisure without unease and difficulty.

The problem is not helped by the growing reluctance or inability of American religious institutions to dwell on the subject of death. While the various denominations have developed a commendable interest in improving life here and now, in advocating social justice or environmental awareness, and in combating various social problems, they are reticent about advising us on the best ways of confronting life’s irrevocable end. Death remains, by and large, a taboo topic. There is plenty of it in mass culture and popular entertainment, but its treatment is unrealistic: either violent or sentimental.

These observations are not an endorsement of idle vegetation in old, or in any other, age. I am not suggesting that being inactive or less active is preferable to being active, or even hyperactive. The latter may help, temporarily, to distract from the realization that living longer does not solve the problem of death or its approach; that old age, while more prolonged, remains debilitating, mentally as well as physically, and that infirmity cannot be averted indefinitely notwithstanding the wonders of medical science. It is understandable that as we live longer, we seek to avoid confronting the end in more ingenious and imaginative ways.

Mr. Hollander, a retired professor of sociology living in western Massachusetts, is the author most recently of “The End of Commitment: Revolutionaries, Intellectuals and Political Morality.”