Some of you may have noticed that I haven’t written in a few weeks. I suppose I’ve been busy with one thing or another – finishing my teaching, catching up on some reading, attending a few meetings, spending time with friends and family, keeping informed about current events, and just generally trying to stay sane in these crazy times. I’ve also been taking more time to consider what matters, especially in this still-transitional period of my semi-retired life.
This week, I thought I’d share some of those thoughts (what I’m calling “First Principles”). As you can imagine, with such a short list they are not meant to be comprehensive. Think of the list as a starting point, an incomplete set of guidelines one person has found helpful in maintaining a degree of perspective and relieving anxiety brought about by world events. And as you begin, please understand that it might seem to start a little dark, but it gets progressively brighter as you make your way through.
With that brief explanation, here they are.
1. In the grand scale of the cosmos, we all are small and our time is short. As a first First Principle, I try to remind myself of my own extremely limited place in space and time. The more I observe, read, and think about the world and the universe we inhabit, the more aware I become of how small I am and how fleeting my life. Understanding our finitude is, I think, the beginning of wisdom.
Many of us live under the illusion of our own importance in relation to the rest of society. From an early age, we are conditioned by advertising, mass media, parental encouragement, and the limitations of our own experience to think we are the center of the universe. Only as we mature does our comprehension of the vastness of the reality we occupy, and the minuteness of our place within it, develop. Even then, we are able to function only to the extent we can block out such thoughts and focus on our immediate circumstances.
We are, perhaps, like young Alvy Singer in Woody Allen’s famous film, “Annie Hall.” The boy is depressed because he has just learned that the universe is expanding and, billions of years from now, will cease to exist. His mother tells a psychiatrist that the depressed Alvy has stopped doing his homework. Alvy’s response: “What’s the point?”
Alvy’s reaction is understandable but unhelpful. Instead of triggering an existential crisis, a brutally honest recognition of just how small we are can lead to a profound but productive humility. There are billions of people on this planet, billions more when we remove the limitation of time, and trillions upon trillions of stars and planets in the universe. Each of us is no more than a single droplet in an unfathomably large and ever-changing sea.
When we confront that reality, we can’t help but be humbled. But that humility can help us avoid developing an inflated ego, an exaggerated view of our own importance. And that, in turn, can help orient us towards a life of service, kindness, and grace.
2. Everyone is broken. A second principle is that, in one way or another, we all are broken. The Judeo-Christian tradition calls this our fallen nature, or a state of sin. Even Pope Francis began his papacy by describing himself as a sinner.
Brokenness is the human condition regardless of our faith perspective. We are flawed, imperfect, susceptible to bouts of self-centeredness, misunderstanding, poor judgment, and inflamed emotion, not to mention feelings of loneliness, inadequacy, and despair. No matter how hard we try, we can’t avoid our brokenness. The best we can do is acknowledge and accept it, ask for help and forgiveness, and move forward as best we can with the talents, energy, and support we have been given.
There is an important corollary to this principle. Because I am broken, I have no right to condemn others for their brokenness. In fact, the recognition that we all share the quality of brokenness can, if we let it, also inspire us to adopt an attitude of humility and grace. It can bring healing to our divisions and help us realize that what binds us together is stronger than what drives us apart.
So, I am small, my life is short, and I am certain to make mistakes and experience failures. But I can take comfort knowing that those conditions don’t make me exceptional. I hold them in common with everyone.
3. We all possess a spark of goodness. All of this leads to a third, and happier, principle: Despite my finitude and brokenness, there is a spark of something good within me, something that somehow matters. Call it soul, spirit, light, or life, we each are born from the same common well of humanity. Our faith traditions teach us that we are made in the image of God. Secularists would say that we have worth by virtue of our humanity, or that our value is bestowed by nature. Under both religious and non-religious perspectives, most of us share the belief that each of us, indeed life itself, has value.
Beneath the ugliness that attracts the attention of the news media, there is immense beauty and goodness. Goodness, like brokenness, is part of human nature. It is not unique to humans either, but exists in all creation. When we’re so often bombarded by televised displays of the evil things some people do, we may need to remind ourselves that the good is also there, that it is constant and abundant even when it is not apparent, and that we need only look to find it.
4. Service, not power or glory, is key to personal fulfillment. And now the fourth principle: We achieve our highest potential, and our greatest fulfillment, by willing the good of the other. Service, not power, makes us most fully human. And while worthy service can take many forms, it becomes more rewarding the farther down it reaches.
We see this time and again in religious texts. The service that has the greatest value is service to the poor, the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, the stranger, the imprisoned, and the oppressed. Christians know these as “Matthew 25” values because Jesus’ identification of them is found in Chapter 25 of the Gospel of Matthew. They also are at the heart of Judaism and other traditions.
Sometimes service can be confused with the exercise of power, but service and power are more often opposites. So are service and the pursuit of glory. No doubt, these concepts co-exist on a sliding scale. Some politicians might seek office to attain power or to attract admiration, while others do so in a spirit of service. Any of us may try to help others not only because it is the right thing to do but also because it helps advance our careers or makes us look good. Even if the person performing acts of service has mixed motives, serving the needs of others is a worthy goal. But service can bring us even greater satisfaction when we put aside our own desire for advancement or recognition and focus primarily on addressing the other person’s needs.
5. Our highest calling is love. Finitude, brokenness, goodness, and service all lead to the fifth and (for now) final principle, the principle of love.
In the ‘60s and ‘70s, there was no shortage of popular songs about love; not just romantic love, but also what used to be called “brotherly love,” perhaps now better termed “love of neighbor.” Songs like the Beatles’ “All You Need is Love,” Jackie DeShannon’s “Put a Little Love in Your Heart,” Stevie Wonder’s “Love’s In Need of Love Today,” Chester Powers’ “Get Together” recorded by the Youngbloods, and Lesley Duncan’s “Love Song” recorded by Elton John.
I don’t often hear songs like these today, and when I hear the old songs, they can seem anachronistic. In their time, though, they sprang up in reaction to the hatred, violence, and injustices that seemed to be reaching a crescendo in the early years of our war-torn and racially charged nuclear age. I believe that much of the “resistance movement” now beginning to flower in our country is based on love — love for innocent migrants, love for gay and trans people, love for the poor at home and abroad. Such movements quite properly focus on the enforcement of human rights, but they will only endure to the extent they are grounded in love.
Final Thoughts. All of these qualities – finitude, brokenness, goodness, service, and love – can function as benchmarks for judging our own commitment to commonly espoused values. They also can help us gauge the commitment of others.
For example, we might ask who is more deserving of our support, those with exaggerated views of their own importance or those grounded in an understanding of their own limitations (finitude)? Whom do we most admire, those who insist they are blameless when they cause bad things to happen or those who recognize, acknowledge, and ask forgiveness for their contributions to bad experiences and outcomes (brokenness)? Whom would we do best to follow, those who demonize the innocent to advance their own ambitions or those who work to protect the innocent from harm (goodness)? Who is more worthy of honor, those who seek above all else their own power and glory or those who protect and care for the vulnerable and underprivileged (service)? Who better reflects traditional religious and humanitarian values, those who sow hate and division or those who promote peace and understanding (love)?
These questions are not difficult. Indeed, they tend to answer themselves. At times, the challenge lies in their application. But at other times, how they apply to any person or groups of persons is clear. And through it all, we should not lose sight of the importance of applying these principles, or any similar set of principles, not just to our assessments of other people, but also to ourselves.
These are my preliminary thoughts on these topics. I may expand them in later posts, through my podcast, or by writing something more substantial. For now, I hope you will find it helpful to reflect on each principle and consider how each of them applies to your own experience and commitments. And please let me know about any principles you believe should be added to this list.
Thank you Geraldine. I don't mean to suggest that the goodness inside each of us always prevails against our less desirable tendencies. Unfortunately, people's worst impulses can and often do win out. That is part of the brokenness I refer to in the second principle. There will always be a struggle between the better and worse angels of our nature, to paraphrase Lincoln. And the distinction between those who act to prevent and alleviate human suffering and those who don't is the point of Jesus' parable of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25.
I love this post but I question your faith in every person’s innate “goodness.” If this is true, wouldn’t it curb/temper the excesses of our present politics that denies the humanity of certain people? Immigrants. Black and brown people. Poor people. I’d be relieved to see a way out of this.