“Do you love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.”
-Benjamin Franklin
In December 1973, the hauntingly beautiful “Time in a Bottle” shot to #1 on the pop charts. Jim Croce had been inspired to write the ballad by and for his infant son. The refrain, “But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them,” expresses a longing that is at once personal and universal. We can all relate, deeply.
And adding to the poignancy of the message was the fact that just three months prior to the song reaching #1, Croce died in an airplane crash. He was thirty, and his son was two.
Time is precious. But it can’t be bottled, captured, controlled, and stored up. And it cannot be reclaimed. It is always slipping away, and with it the opportunities we have left to do something meaningful with it. And there never seems to be enough time…
“Do you love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.”
I think we squander time because we think we can get away with it…that there will always be more. Sort of like a twelve year-old who’s just learned how to use dad’s ATM card.
How different would our lives be, though, if we approached every situation with the simple question, “What if this is the last time?”
What if this is the last time I kiss my beloved?
What if this is the last time I kneel in prayer?
What if this is the last time I shoot baskets with my son, or belt out a Springsteen song, or dance with my little girl?
What if this is the last time I watch a sunset?
Talk about carpe diem…of suddenly, powerfully living in the moment!
At the end of life, the passage of time is not what’s regretted…it’s what we’ve not done with the time we were given that will haunt us.
“What if this is the last time?” Someday it will be…and that will be o.k. if you’ve lived well.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Too Much Reality
Humankind cannot stand too much reality.” -T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton
I have not been asked to give a speech at Rutgers University. I suspect I never will be either. Not too surprising.
What might be considered surprising, however, is the person who recently was asked.
There is so much that disturbs me about Rutgers University’s decision to pay Nicole “Snooki” Polizzi of “Jersey Shore” reality television fame $32,000 to speak to the student body about her “GTL lifestyle” (that would be Gym-Tanning-Laundry for the uninitiated). I begin with the judgement that she was someone worth bringing on campus at all (the major takeaway from her talk: “Study hard, but party harder”); and that she was paid with money from a mandatory student activity fee; and that her appearance fee was more than the fee paid to Nobel Prize winning author Toni Morrison for giving the commencement address at the very same school one month later. I could go on.
My first instinct was to go on the offensive; attack the messenger. “Snooki” is so easy for sensible people to dislike, to blame, to vilify for her part in this cultural drift toward banality and worse. But after a good old fashioned, self-righteous rant, I realized that I was doing some classic scapegoating. This character is a creation, not a creator. She is a symptom of the illness, not the illness. Even before her fifteen minutes of fame end, there will be (and already is) another loud, crude, exhibitionistic “Snooki”, or Brody, or Sheen, or take-your-pick Kardashian, or Paris ready to squat in the role of “reality star” for the next fifteen minutes.
My second instinct was defensive; dismiss the message because of the messenger. “Snooki” is a bad joke, and the Rutgers decision to invite her is just an aberration. I’d never ask Snooki to speak, pay her to speak, or listen to her speak. This isn’t my reality. And the vast majority of the world is with me on this one, no doubt. “Distracted from distraction by distraction…filled with fancies and empty of meaning.” All the noise, and toys, and hysteria, and fighting, and booze, and vomit, and sex, and plastic surgery…
But if this is true, then why am I so worked up? Why, if this person and this decision are so pathetic and irregular, am I so angry about it? This isn’t about me, right? Not my reality? Not connecting with my story at all?
Here’s a crazy thought. What if reality television was not primarily inexpensive programming material intended to numb America into a moral stupor, but rather a sophisticated series of commentaries hidden in the guise of trash, meant to graphically expose humankind’s frailty…both poignant and horrible at the same time?
Maybe I shouldn’t pretend to be so surprised about Snooki, and Rutgers?
The recently beatified Mother Teresa of Calcutta was once asked why she did what she did. Her answer: “Because I have a Hitler inside me.” She is a saint. I can’t get there yet (mostly because I don’t consistently want to get there yet). But what I can admit to today is that I have a “Snooki” inside me.
Like “Snooki”, and the folks at Rutgers and elsewhere who find her fascinating, I have a fallen nature; a fundamental fault line which reminds me in little and big ways as life rocks and rolls that often my reality does not conform with Reality. Like “reality television”, my life is still too filled with staged encounters, and drama, and sensationalism, and youtube-worthy moments of puff and emptiness.
Too much Reality for my reality.
To use Eliot’s words once more, I too seek to be “distracted from distraction by distraction”, in order to not rest too long at the “still point of the turning world.” And all the while the God Who Uses Everything whispers that I am very much like those people…the Jersey Shore, Real Housewives, Kardashian, The Hills, Celebrity Rehab people. I would still too often prefer to talk about myself, to observe others (taking particular interest in their mistakes), to bask in the illusion of control, to pretend to have all the answers, and to subtly feel superior in an acceptably “Christian” way.
And maybe you can relate? Just a little? So now what?
I’d like to turn to the solution, to quickly switch the focus to what we can all do to put the reality television dimension of our own lives in the rear view mirror. I’d really like to do this. Because humankind cannot stand too much reality.
I have not been asked to give a speech at Rutgers University. I suspect I never will be either. Not too surprising.
What might be considered surprising, however, is the person who recently was asked.
There is so much that disturbs me about Rutgers University’s decision to pay Nicole “Snooki” Polizzi of “Jersey Shore” reality television fame $32,000 to speak to the student body about her “GTL lifestyle” (that would be Gym-Tanning-Laundry for the uninitiated). I begin with the judgement that she was someone worth bringing on campus at all (the major takeaway from her talk: “Study hard, but party harder”); and that she was paid with money from a mandatory student activity fee; and that her appearance fee was more than the fee paid to Nobel Prize winning author Toni Morrison for giving the commencement address at the very same school one month later. I could go on.
My first instinct was to go on the offensive; attack the messenger. “Snooki” is so easy for sensible people to dislike, to blame, to vilify for her part in this cultural drift toward banality and worse. But after a good old fashioned, self-righteous rant, I realized that I was doing some classic scapegoating. This character is a creation, not a creator. She is a symptom of the illness, not the illness. Even before her fifteen minutes of fame end, there will be (and already is) another loud, crude, exhibitionistic “Snooki”, or Brody, or Sheen, or take-your-pick Kardashian, or Paris ready to squat in the role of “reality star” for the next fifteen minutes.
My second instinct was defensive; dismiss the message because of the messenger. “Snooki” is a bad joke, and the Rutgers decision to invite her is just an aberration. I’d never ask Snooki to speak, pay her to speak, or listen to her speak. This isn’t my reality. And the vast majority of the world is with me on this one, no doubt. “Distracted from distraction by distraction…filled with fancies and empty of meaning.” All the noise, and toys, and hysteria, and fighting, and booze, and vomit, and sex, and plastic surgery…
But if this is true, then why am I so worked up? Why, if this person and this decision are so pathetic and irregular, am I so angry about it? This isn’t about me, right? Not my reality? Not connecting with my story at all?
Here’s a crazy thought. What if reality television was not primarily inexpensive programming material intended to numb America into a moral stupor, but rather a sophisticated series of commentaries hidden in the guise of trash, meant to graphically expose humankind’s frailty…both poignant and horrible at the same time?
Maybe I shouldn’t pretend to be so surprised about Snooki, and Rutgers?
The recently beatified Mother Teresa of Calcutta was once asked why she did what she did. Her answer: “Because I have a Hitler inside me.” She is a saint. I can’t get there yet (mostly because I don’t consistently want to get there yet). But what I can admit to today is that I have a “Snooki” inside me.
Like “Snooki”, and the folks at Rutgers and elsewhere who find her fascinating, I have a fallen nature; a fundamental fault line which reminds me in little and big ways as life rocks and rolls that often my reality does not conform with Reality. Like “reality television”, my life is still too filled with staged encounters, and drama, and sensationalism, and youtube-worthy moments of puff and emptiness.
Too much Reality for my reality.
To use Eliot’s words once more, I too seek to be “distracted from distraction by distraction”, in order to not rest too long at the “still point of the turning world.” And all the while the God Who Uses Everything whispers that I am very much like those people…the Jersey Shore, Real Housewives, Kardashian, The Hills, Celebrity Rehab people. I would still too often prefer to talk about myself, to observe others (taking particular interest in their mistakes), to bask in the illusion of control, to pretend to have all the answers, and to subtly feel superior in an acceptably “Christian” way.
And maybe you can relate? Just a little? So now what?
I’d like to turn to the solution, to quickly switch the focus to what we can all do to put the reality television dimension of our own lives in the rear view mirror. I’d really like to do this. Because humankind cannot stand too much reality.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
The "If" Word
“A stiff apology is a second insult.... The injured party does not want to be compensated because he has been wronged; he wants to be healed because he has been hurt.”
-G.K. Chesterton
Last week I read of another public figure who began his feeble attempt at an apology for bad behavior with the phrase, “If I offended anyone…” This is what Chesterton would call a “stiff apology.” I would call it insincere.
I could simply explain this as another narcissistic famous person being too full of himself to spontaneously practice humility. He drew some heat for his poor choice of words, and was apologizing because his manager or publicist told him to. I think my analysis is probably true, but there’s more to it than this…the issue goes deeper. Because the struggle to offer a real apology is not a famous person issue, it is a human being issue; mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, friends and foes.
“If I offended anyone…”, “If my words hurt you…”, “If you took it that way…”
When it comes to apologizing, the “if” word is a really bad word.
A sincere apology is a rare thing indeed; no “ifs”, no “ands”, and no “buts”. Why is this? I think the answer involves several issues, including immaturity, fear, pride, and indifference. But I’m most interested in what it says about how one sees relationships.
Transactional. Conditional. Quid pro quo. “This for that”; I’ll give you an apology because the consequence might cost me something. You might get angry with me, you might try and hurt me back, you might hassle me with more of your boring feelings.
So, I’ll offer something that sounds polite and hopefully that will cover the “damages.” Yes, it is very general, and it needs to be. Specifics challenge me to reflect on what I’ve done, and what I need to take responsibility for. And I’m as disinterested in exploring my motives as I am in empathizing with your feelings.
“Why” takes time. “Why” takes energy. “Why” asks me to be vulnerable.
A lousy apology, one that comes from the head and not the heart and is grounded in pride and not humility, does nothing to help heal the wound my words or deeds have caused. In fact, it makes matters worse. My lack of genuine care and interest in the relationship is made even more obvious. In the end (and probably in the beginning and middle, too) it is still about me and my feelings, not you and yours.
Everyone makes mistakes. This is human, and understandable. But I can’t be forgiven if I don’t really think I need to be, and don’t really ask to be. And I can’t be trusted either.
-G.K. Chesterton
Last week I read of another public figure who began his feeble attempt at an apology for bad behavior with the phrase, “If I offended anyone…” This is what Chesterton would call a “stiff apology.” I would call it insincere.
I could simply explain this as another narcissistic famous person being too full of himself to spontaneously practice humility. He drew some heat for his poor choice of words, and was apologizing because his manager or publicist told him to. I think my analysis is probably true, but there’s more to it than this…the issue goes deeper. Because the struggle to offer a real apology is not a famous person issue, it is a human being issue; mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, friends and foes.
“If I offended anyone…”, “If my words hurt you…”, “If you took it that way…”
When it comes to apologizing, the “if” word is a really bad word.
A sincere apology is a rare thing indeed; no “ifs”, no “ands”, and no “buts”. Why is this? I think the answer involves several issues, including immaturity, fear, pride, and indifference. But I’m most interested in what it says about how one sees relationships.
Transactional. Conditional. Quid pro quo. “This for that”; I’ll give you an apology because the consequence might cost me something. You might get angry with me, you might try and hurt me back, you might hassle me with more of your boring feelings.
So, I’ll offer something that sounds polite and hopefully that will cover the “damages.” Yes, it is very general, and it needs to be. Specifics challenge me to reflect on what I’ve done, and what I need to take responsibility for. And I’m as disinterested in exploring my motives as I am in empathizing with your feelings.
“Why” takes time. “Why” takes energy. “Why” asks me to be vulnerable.
A lousy apology, one that comes from the head and not the heart and is grounded in pride and not humility, does nothing to help heal the wound my words or deeds have caused. In fact, it makes matters worse. My lack of genuine care and interest in the relationship is made even more obvious. In the end (and probably in the beginning and middle, too) it is still about me and my feelings, not you and yours.
Everyone makes mistakes. This is human, and understandable. But I can’t be forgiven if I don’t really think I need to be, and don’t really ask to be. And I can’t be trusted either.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Real success
“We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.”
-Winston Churchill
Benedict Joseph Labre lived in pre-revolution France. He struggled with mental illness virtually his entire life, failed each of the eleven times he tried to enter religious life, lost touch with his family, lived as a homeless person for his adult years, had no profession, subsisted on what he could collect as a beggar, and died of malnutrition at 35 years-old.
Success? Only if you consider sainthood a worthwhile accomplishment.
What is success to you? What does it look like? Honestly. Comfort, professional excellence, the respect of peers, some money, and a solid core of good friends? Yes, a good list. And I wouldn’t argue with any of these markers.
Yet St. Benedict Joseph Labre had none of these things. His life reads like a tragic story of failure that makes you want to cry. If he was living today, he’d be the dirty, anonymous, slightly scary-looking man at the bottom of the freeway offramp you try not to make eye contact with as you idle at the red light. Or the shivering corpse in the shadows, bundled up in rags and blankets, you hurry past as you make your way to your car on a cold night.
His life was not exactly the stuff of comic book heroes, or feel-good movies, or popular television.
But that’s not ultimately what success is. We can easily lose sight of this in a culture that is so externally oriented, so hell-bent on looking good and feeling superior.
“We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.”
Benedict shared with everyone he met on the pilgrimage routes of Europe; a kind word to the weary, a message of hope to the forlorn, even the food and clothes he’d been given to those who seemed hungrier and colder than he. And when he was attacked and beaten, which happened often, he gave forgiveness.
Success is not about what we collect, what we can count, and what we control. Success is about what we give. It is about the virtue of generosity. And that’s what makes Benedict significant. Why he’s remembered and revered more than those of his time who had so much. This man gave everything he could, materially and spiritually.
Generosity comes from the Latin root that means “to give birth.” And people who practice generosity...giving their time, their talent, and their treasure…”give birth.”
And what is born of generosity? Your legacy…your gift to future generations; that which will live on after you; what you will be remembered best for; what will frame your eternity. If you want to be relevant, if you want your life to matter, give.
Because it’s only generosity that will move you from merely "successful" to truly significant.
-Winston Churchill
Benedict Joseph Labre lived in pre-revolution France. He struggled with mental illness virtually his entire life, failed each of the eleven times he tried to enter religious life, lost touch with his family, lived as a homeless person for his adult years, had no profession, subsisted on what he could collect as a beggar, and died of malnutrition at 35 years-old.
Success? Only if you consider sainthood a worthwhile accomplishment.
What is success to you? What does it look like? Honestly. Comfort, professional excellence, the respect of peers, some money, and a solid core of good friends? Yes, a good list. And I wouldn’t argue with any of these markers.
Yet St. Benedict Joseph Labre had none of these things. His life reads like a tragic story of failure that makes you want to cry. If he was living today, he’d be the dirty, anonymous, slightly scary-looking man at the bottom of the freeway offramp you try not to make eye contact with as you idle at the red light. Or the shivering corpse in the shadows, bundled up in rags and blankets, you hurry past as you make your way to your car on a cold night.
His life was not exactly the stuff of comic book heroes, or feel-good movies, or popular television.
But that’s not ultimately what success is. We can easily lose sight of this in a culture that is so externally oriented, so hell-bent on looking good and feeling superior.
“We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.”
Benedict shared with everyone he met on the pilgrimage routes of Europe; a kind word to the weary, a message of hope to the forlorn, even the food and clothes he’d been given to those who seemed hungrier and colder than he. And when he was attacked and beaten, which happened often, he gave forgiveness.
Success is not about what we collect, what we can count, and what we control. Success is about what we give. It is about the virtue of generosity. And that’s what makes Benedict significant. Why he’s remembered and revered more than those of his time who had so much. This man gave everything he could, materially and spiritually.
Generosity comes from the Latin root that means “to give birth.” And people who practice generosity...giving their time, their talent, and their treasure…”give birth.”
And what is born of generosity? Your legacy…your gift to future generations; that which will live on after you; what you will be remembered best for; what will frame your eternity. If you want to be relevant, if you want your life to matter, give.
Because it’s only generosity that will move you from merely "successful" to truly significant.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Mothering Day
"The mother's heart is the child's school-room."
-Henry Ward Beecher
Mother's Day is a holy day indeed, a blessed day, a precious day. It is a day we should all celebrate if for no other reason...and there is not a more fundamental reason...than that our mothers chose life. We can and should be forever grateful for this. There is no greater gift.
But on Mother's Day I believe we should also celebrate ALL women who mother, for motherhood is certainly more than a physical act. We miss the true essence of motherhood if we reduce this sacred role to something wholly explained by obstetrics.
Those who mother bear hope.
Those who mother invest in the future.
Those who mother protect innocence.
Those who mother guide the vulnerable.
Those who mother teach about all that is essential.
Those who mother sacrifice for the Good.
Those who mother love and let go...and still love.
Happy Mother's Day, Happy Mothering Day, to all women who carry life, birth life, and nurture life in every way. "Thank you" is a good starting point, but not nearly enough!
-Henry Ward Beecher
Mother's Day is a holy day indeed, a blessed day, a precious day. It is a day we should all celebrate if for no other reason...and there is not a more fundamental reason...than that our mothers chose life. We can and should be forever grateful for this. There is no greater gift.
But on Mother's Day I believe we should also celebrate ALL women who mother, for motherhood is certainly more than a physical act. We miss the true essence of motherhood if we reduce this sacred role to something wholly explained by obstetrics.
Those who mother bear hope.
Those who mother invest in the future.
Those who mother protect innocence.
Those who mother guide the vulnerable.
Those who mother teach about all that is essential.
Those who mother sacrifice for the Good.
Those who mother love and let go...and still love.
Happy Mother's Day, Happy Mothering Day, to all women who carry life, birth life, and nurture life in every way. "Thank you" is a good starting point, but not nearly enough!
Friday, May 6, 2011
Getting to Santa Barbara
“Know thyself.”
-Socrates
Santa Barbara is my favorite city in the whole world. It has nearly perfect weather, beautiful beaches, culture and history, great dining, a spirit of play, and a wonderfully diverse mix of people. I don’t live there full-time yet, but that’s the goal; the ideal. I get up there as often as possible, and when I leave I miss it all the more.
But how deep would my love for Santa Barbara be if I’d never been anywhere else. If my whole life I’d never seen another city, experienced another city, lived in another city? Sounds great at first, but there’s no way I’d have the same level of appreciation and clarity about the Mission, State Street, the Paseo Nuevo, the Museum of Art, Stearns Wharf, the El Encanto, and the countless other treasures my ideal city holds?
Thankfully I have visited and lived in other places, places that were not as good a fit for me, as wonderful, beautiful, or natural. Being able to contrast these places with my ideal place brings greater knowledge and understanding about what works for me, and where I want to end up. And my longing grows. This is a grace.
Your favorite city can serve as a metapahor for your true self. Both are beautiful places you want to live in more and more. The true self is you at your very best, the person you are meant to be: most free, alive, relational, authentic, joyful, and creative. Like your ideal city, your true self is what you ultimately want to make your “home.”
"Know thyself."
You become a true self by knowing yourself, and then doing something meaningful with the information you gather.
You must become a student of your own life, studying, exploring, and understanding the good, the bad, and the ugly; what has worked for you, and what has not worked for you. Looking at the “good” is helpful; the beautiful, interesting, exciting, gratifying experiences.
But it’s the “bad” and the "ugly” that will give you the most useful information.
It takes great courage and humility to do this, to study and learn from your pain. No one likes to reflect on mistakes and failures, rejection and abandonment, the times people hurt you and the times you hurt yourself. But knowing where you want to go, where you’re meant to go, is intimately connected to knowing where you’ve been.
You must go back before you can finally go forward.
-Socrates
Santa Barbara is my favorite city in the whole world. It has nearly perfect weather, beautiful beaches, culture and history, great dining, a spirit of play, and a wonderfully diverse mix of people. I don’t live there full-time yet, but that’s the goal; the ideal. I get up there as often as possible, and when I leave I miss it all the more.
But how deep would my love for Santa Barbara be if I’d never been anywhere else. If my whole life I’d never seen another city, experienced another city, lived in another city? Sounds great at first, but there’s no way I’d have the same level of appreciation and clarity about the Mission, State Street, the Paseo Nuevo, the Museum of Art, Stearns Wharf, the El Encanto, and the countless other treasures my ideal city holds?
Thankfully I have visited and lived in other places, places that were not as good a fit for me, as wonderful, beautiful, or natural. Being able to contrast these places with my ideal place brings greater knowledge and understanding about what works for me, and where I want to end up. And my longing grows. This is a grace.
Your favorite city can serve as a metapahor for your true self. Both are beautiful places you want to live in more and more. The true self is you at your very best, the person you are meant to be: most free, alive, relational, authentic, joyful, and creative. Like your ideal city, your true self is what you ultimately want to make your “home.”
"Know thyself."
You become a true self by knowing yourself, and then doing something meaningful with the information you gather.
You must become a student of your own life, studying, exploring, and understanding the good, the bad, and the ugly; what has worked for you, and what has not worked for you. Looking at the “good” is helpful; the beautiful, interesting, exciting, gratifying experiences.
But it’s the “bad” and the "ugly” that will give you the most useful information.
It takes great courage and humility to do this, to study and learn from your pain. No one likes to reflect on mistakes and failures, rejection and abandonment, the times people hurt you and the times you hurt yourself. But knowing where you want to go, where you’re meant to go, is intimately connected to knowing where you’ve been.
You must go back before you can finally go forward.
Monday, May 2, 2011
John Paul, Osama, and the virtue of religion
“I never knew how to worship until I knew how to love.”
-Henry Ward Beecher
What a day of contrasts; John Paul the Great beatified in the morning and Osama bin Laden the Not-Great dying in a hail of gunfire in the evening…both receiving their just rewards on the same day. What bookends.
Both men claimed to be religious, claimed to worship God, claimed to want transformation. No question that both men changed the world with their passion and convictions…all in the Name of God.
And a single news day will probably never give the world such a stark lesson in the virtue of religion.
I want to be clear; I am not writing here about one religion being better than another, about a superior worldview or doctrine. I am writing here about virtue…the practice of good habits, and the fruit that is produced by a life well-lived. Religion, if done well, can be a virtue.
And how do we know if religion is done well? A label? A set of rules? A growing number of members? It’s a lot more basic than this. It’s about love.
Love is what ultimately defines religion when it is practiced well, or not. And love was the fundamental difference between John Paul II and Osama bin Laden. One loved and one didn’t. One was humbled by love, and one wasn’t. One was moved by love to seek reconciliation with his neighbors and one wasn’t. One was compelled by love to seek social justice and honor the dignity of human life, and one wasn’t.
Religion can be a virtue, but like anything powerful it can also be a vice, used to hide from truth, oppress and terrorize others, and destroy goodness. There are valid reasons why so many nowadays are skeptical of "religion" and might scoff at the idea that it can make one better. There has been far too little love.
Our world is too complicated, too fragile, too dangerous to simply go by labels, and to dismiss or accept the notion of religion as a virtue based on a superficial read. Too much is at stake, and this world of ours needs all the help it can get.
So look at actions. Actions have always spoken louder than words. And no action speaks louder than love.
People from all religions celebrated the life of John Paul II yesterday because he loved. People from all religions celebrated the death of Osama bin Laden last night because he didn’t.
Love is the most radical concept ever created. It is the greatest, most transformative force the world has ever seen. And religion, when practiced as a virtue, produces love. It can make individuals better, marriages better, families better; challenging us to reach and stretch beyond ourselves and our privatized beliefs. And it can make the world better.
Just remember that when you think about religion, and whether it is a virtue, to look at the lives, and not simply the labels. And perhaps the two bookends of
May 1, 2011.
-Henry Ward Beecher
What a day of contrasts; John Paul the Great beatified in the morning and Osama bin Laden the Not-Great dying in a hail of gunfire in the evening…both receiving their just rewards on the same day. What bookends.
Both men claimed to be religious, claimed to worship God, claimed to want transformation. No question that both men changed the world with their passion and convictions…all in the Name of God.
And a single news day will probably never give the world such a stark lesson in the virtue of religion.
I want to be clear; I am not writing here about one religion being better than another, about a superior worldview or doctrine. I am writing here about virtue…the practice of good habits, and the fruit that is produced by a life well-lived. Religion, if done well, can be a virtue.
And how do we know if religion is done well? A label? A set of rules? A growing number of members? It’s a lot more basic than this. It’s about love.
Love is what ultimately defines religion when it is practiced well, or not. And love was the fundamental difference between John Paul II and Osama bin Laden. One loved and one didn’t. One was humbled by love, and one wasn’t. One was moved by love to seek reconciliation with his neighbors and one wasn’t. One was compelled by love to seek social justice and honor the dignity of human life, and one wasn’t.
Religion can be a virtue, but like anything powerful it can also be a vice, used to hide from truth, oppress and terrorize others, and destroy goodness. There are valid reasons why so many nowadays are skeptical of "religion" and might scoff at the idea that it can make one better. There has been far too little love.
Our world is too complicated, too fragile, too dangerous to simply go by labels, and to dismiss or accept the notion of religion as a virtue based on a superficial read. Too much is at stake, and this world of ours needs all the help it can get.
So look at actions. Actions have always spoken louder than words. And no action speaks louder than love.
People from all religions celebrated the life of John Paul II yesterday because he loved. People from all religions celebrated the death of Osama bin Laden last night because he didn’t.
Love is the most radical concept ever created. It is the greatest, most transformative force the world has ever seen. And religion, when practiced as a virtue, produces love. It can make individuals better, marriages better, families better; challenging us to reach and stretch beyond ourselves and our privatized beliefs. And it can make the world better.
Just remember that when you think about religion, and whether it is a virtue, to look at the lives, and not simply the labels. And perhaps the two bookends of
May 1, 2011.
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