Virtue Quest

An article – really more of an advertisement – on Psychology Today’s blog makes a great recommendation:

Why not commit to making love your New Year’s Resolution?

Of course, their idea of “love” is saying “I love you” to your spouse at least once a day. That’s hardly a bad thing but, as we all know, actions speak much louder than words.

All love is a gift

More than a feeling

Almost everyone I’ve ever talked to about love starts by remarking that love is an action, not a feeling. I mostly agree, but I think it’s important to remember that love is intimately involved with feelings. At the very least, it’s much easier to take the actions of love when one feels the affections of love.

But love is not merely a result of our feelings; it can also be a cause of our feelings. I’ve noticed that, when I interact with … how do I put this gently? … people to whom I have little immediate attraction, I have to consciously decide to act lovingly toward them. No surprise there; I suspect most of us do. But, as so many advocates of volunteering point out, I find I often receive more than I give when I choose to give love in difficult situations.

The greatest gift I receive is insight into what is good, what is lovable, in this person – the person I at first had little or no inclination to love.

In other words, by acting from love, I begin to feel affection. There’s no real dichotomy between acts of love and feelings of love; ideally, they reinforce one another.

Love and charity and sexy sexy sex

What I just said above sounds very noble and “Christian.” And, in many ways, it is. But another false dichotomy is between this “charitable” love and what I’ll call “romantic” or “erotic” love. You know, LUV! Valentine’s Day love. “C’mon over here, baby!” love.

Do these really have anything in common?

Josef Pieper, whose book Faith, Hope, Love I’ve just finished reading, suggests that there are two things that all forms of love (including charity, erotic love, friendship, and so on) all have in common: First, affirmation; and second, union.

Affirmation means seeing, acknowledging, delighting in, and making known the beloved’s good. So, if you love chocolate, you delight in its flavor. If you love your spouse, you delight in his or her personality and body – and, moreover, you delight to remind him or her of your joy.

Union means participating in that goodness that you affirm. Again, if you love chocolate, then you unite that chocolate to your taste buds. And if you love your spouse, you make yourself a part – a participant – of his or her whole life. You also try to contribute to his or her good: you help when needed, you provide support and even advantage wherever possible.

Essentially, the “charitable” act of doing good for someone – friend or stranger or lover – opens up new possibilities for affirmation. And affirming the good in another provides opportunities to unite yourself to them.

Resolving to love in the new year

So, as I said, the Psychology Today advice is not bad: saying “I love you” every day is an act of affirmation. But it’s not just for one’s spouse, and it’s not just for words.

To really be more loving, all I need to do is remember to look for the good – either good that’s there, or good that I can bring about – in every person, every situation I encounter. I have some friends who put a note on their refrigerator reading, “Treat Theo [their 3-year old son] kindly”. The reminder might be that simple: a note on the mirror or the hand, saying, “Treat others with love today.”

Look for the good. Act on it.

The wheel of time turns round again...

A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care that the balances are correct.

I think this is the instinct behind such things as new year’s resolutions. I know that the ending of one calendar year and the beginning of another is arbitrary. It is no more significant, in and of itself, than a birthday or a full moon. But it brings with it a number of opportunities to make a fresh start.

Financially, for example, the calendar year and the tax year coincide. So it provides a good opportunity to make some major changes in working or spending habits.

Or, there are opportunities for re-connecting with family and friends; Christmas and other holidays have just passed, and most people are thinking fondly – or trying to, anyway – about friends and relations.

And then there is the whole self-improvement culture: already there are countless people trying to make this year the year when they’ll lose some weight, learn Chinese, get on top of the housework, or whatever. This provides a strong social support, and maybe some direct accountability, for making a few changes.

Balance and virtue

In my experience, what causes all these resolutions to fizzle out before January is through is the lack of balance. As the Bene Gesserit wisdom admonishes us, if the beginning is out of balance, the rest will topple over easily.

Here is where the virtues come to the rescue: a little prudence now, in deciding just what changes to make this coming year, will make it clear what actions are truly just (and, for that matter, loving) and will prepare us to act with courage and/or moderation when needed.

Prudence, remember, is the virtue of recognizing what the situation really is, and what my particular place in that situation is; it is the virtue of being in touch with reality.

The first step of prudence is to look at the practical, concrete, feet-on-the-ground situation. Here’s mine, in a nutshell:

• I have a temporary, part-time job that doesn’t quite cover all my expenses
• I’m therefore somewhat financially dependent on family, but I’m not homeless or starving
• I have the luxury of free internet access and affordable transportation
• I have some very good friends who care deeply for me
• I’m free of any major debt
• I have a ton of ideas for articles and stories, but have so far lacked the discipline to complete them

How I plan to grow in virtue next year

So, based on the situation, it seems to me that I need to man up and act with a little more self-discipline this coming year. I need to focus on finding full-time employment so that I don’t have to mooch off the fam. And I need to focus on putting the time and effort into research and writing. (These fit in nicely, actually, with last year’s resolutions: pray, learn, serve.)

Grand ideals! Now, how to do it? I think I’ll use a few primary tools that have worked well in the past:

1. Make a schedule
2. Be accountable to a friend
3. Expect progress, not perfection

The schedule is itself a tool of prudence: it’s a concrete look at the situation and the needs of each particular day. The accountability to a friend acknowledges that I’m pretty weak in the self-motivation category; it’s easier when I know that someone else knows my goals and successes and failures. And keeping expectations realistic should cut off the elation of a new idea as well as the despair of a failure.

So, I plan to grow in virtue, mainly in prudence, by practicing prudence. I invite you to do the same!

Modest and mannered miss Austen

A tip of the questor’s cap to Just Jen, who pointed me to this article from the Wall Street Journal. Here’s a snippet:

Today’s readers tend to appreciate Austen despite her didacticism rather than because of it. She can be positively priggish, and that is an embarrassment. … The question arises, then, of how to reconcile Austen’s moralism with modern sensibility. To address this problem, it would be useful if we could find someone with this modern sensibility who actually reads Austen for her moral instruction (in addition to the literary pleasure she provides). How convenient that we have someone who fits that description available to us: me.

I, too, have found Jane Austen to be both guide and inspiration in my attempts to live a more virtuous life. The article envisions Miss Austen’s moral world as a set of concentric spheres: morals at the core, surrounded by sentiment, and covered by manners. This image has some usefulness, but I would note that she sheds at least as much light through the lens of the cardinal and theological virtues.

I would love to write a longer article on Miss Austen myself at some point – hopefully in January! – but I have some research to do before I can responsibly attempt such a feat. Till then, I hope you’ll be satisfied with the insights of this article.

Happy Christmas, all! And bright blessings on your new year!

Just a quick post for the record: I’ll be on radio silence till the weekend.

'Tis the season!

Meanwhile, I wish you all the very best this Christmas, and hope you each receive the gift of love.

Okay, do good and avoid evil! I’m off to the next batch of fudge!

To cook, that is. Not to eat.

Really.

Full article here. Interesting both from the point of view of temperance and of faith itself.

A choice quotation:

Most species of birds and animals in which the male serves some useful function other than sperm donation are inherently monogamous. Humans, like other nest builders, are monogamous by nature, but imperfectly so. We can be trained out of it, though even in polygamous and promiscuous cultures people show their true colors when they fall blindly and crazily in love.

In other words, gentlemen, prove that you are more than a bicycle to a fish.

I also like that it refers to the unfaithful partner as “infidel.”

The long and winding road...

When I started this project, I used the image of a journey to describe growth in virtue. Every step takes you closer to your destination, and every step matters, and so on.

Lately, though, another image has been coming to mind: building a house. First, you have to lay the foundation, then erect the frame structure, then hang the walls, and the plumbing and wiring, and so on and so forth. If any of the major elements are missing, the whole house collapses. But there are also lots of choices, such as the kind of siding or roofing material, the color, whether there’s a deck or not; and, while these don’t affect the basic structure, they do add character to the house. They make it unique.

Virtue: a place to live

Likewise with virtue: some virtues are absolutely necessary. They’re called cardinal virtues for a reason. No one’s life will remain standing without a foundation of prudence, a strong frame of justice, fortitude to stand against the storm and temperance to hold the different parts of the structure in right relationship to each other.

Other choices and actions are more individual: virtues of music or art, virtues of law or medicine or craftsmanship, virtues of humor and wit, and so on. These develop one’s character – not to make us more human in the basic sense, but to make us more ourselves. They make us to be better at being this person.

I don’t think I’ll abandon the journey image. It still resonates with me on many levels: the importance of each step, of putting one foot in front of the other; the time that it takes to reach a destination, and the beauty of all the things you can see along the way.

But, at the very least, I’ve found another image to add to my vocabulary. It seems to be working for me. I hope it works for you as well.

I just discovered that I had not been receiving notices of new subscribers! Please forgive a technological ignoramus. If you’ve subscribed to the blog, I will send you a note before Christmas!

Also, I’ve added a couple new pages to my About menu. And I’ve updated my Reading List. Hope it’s helpful!

Here’s a gentlemanly rant against what’s commonly known as “relativism”.

I basically agree that there must be truth that we can know – at least to some extent – since A) the alternative is utterly absurd, and B) without truth, there’s no relationship to reality.

Truth, after all, is simply the connection of what we can think or know with what is real. Something, like an apple, is; it exists. What makes it true is that the idea or understanding of the apple is (roughly, at least,) the same as the apple is in its existence.

The trick is when we move from sensory truth – the apple I see and feel and taste really exists and is real, which only the insane or the skeptical extremists question – to moral truth. Lots of people question how we can know that something is “right” or “wrong”.

I don’t have a final answer, but my hunch is that it’s something to do with the fact that we can even think of terms such as “right” and “wrong,” or “good” and “evil.” If there weren’t some kind of reality to those notions, how could they even enter our minds – to say nothing of becoming a universal of human life and culture and philosophy?

Love is a many-dimensioned thing...

Reading Josef Pieper’s excellent book on Love, I find myself both inspired and confused. This is, unfortunately, a fairly common combination for me.

I’m inspired because he offers a vision of love that somehow keeps its feet on the ground even as it lifts its eyes above the clouds. I’m confused because he seems to offer two rather different visions of love.

He’s trying to fit all the different kinds of love – from love of God to love of chocolate to love of one’s kidlets – together and see what they all have in common. How can they all be called “love”? At one point, he says:

In every conceivable case love signifies much the same as approval. … It is a way of turning to him or it and saying, “It’s good that you exist; it’s good that you are in this world!”

Then, later, he says:

However different our definitions of love and however different in fact its manifold forms are, one element recurs in all descriptions of it and in all actualizations of it: the tendency toward union.

Approval and union; not necessarily opposites, but definitely not the same thing. So … I get confused.

Love as approval

Looking at love as approval of something or someone, as affirming the fundamental goodness of their being, goes a long way toward showing what “I love chocolate, especially bitter dark chocolate, especially with raspberries and….” has in common with “I will love, honor, respect, and be faithful to you, forsaking all others, until death do us part.”

Love is simply what we do when we recognize something’s or someone’s goodness. And this is why there are so many different kinds of love: there are myriad kinds of goodness to appreciate, to delight in, to love. How good it is that music exists! How good it is that my friend exists! How good it is that my lover exists!

This even extends to the kind of love called “charity”: How good it is that this homeless person exists, and therefore how wrong it is that he or she suffers needlessly. How good it is that someone who is hungry now has a hot meal, that someone who is cold has a warm coat, that a handicapped person has access to the store or the library. We do these things because we recognize the good, the beauty, the dignity of those in need.

Love as union

But then, I don’t often use the words, “I love you,” for those kinds of situations. For me, at least, “I love you,” tends to come out with at least a hint of “I want you” – or, at least, “I want to be with you; I want you to be in my life.”

And, when I hear the words, “I love you,” there’s a part of me that is looking for exactly that connection, that claim the other person is putting on me. I want to be wanted, in other words.

When I feel these things, it all seems so natural, so right. But putting it into words makes it sound awfully selfish, as if love is all about me and what I want. And that’s fine as far as chocolate is concerned, but it can be more than a little insulting when applied to other people. “I want you to make me feel good,” is almost exactly treating a person like a thing to be used.

And yet, when great theologians and mystics describe the greatest love of all, the love of God, it is in terms of union: God wants to be united to us, and the mystic wants to be united with God. Heaven itself is perfect union – even possession of – God.

Putting it together

As I said, I’m confused. But this is how I’m working through it: there’s no such thing as love in the abstract. Love is always someone loving somebody or something else. There’s always a lover and a beloved.

The lover, in my case, is me. I can’t “unselfishly” remove myself from loving. If I approve, if I recognize and delight in some good – again, whether chocolate or my dearest friend – then it’s me who is loving. It’s me who delights, and appreciates that good.

Approval is not merely some impersonal “it’s good that…” Rather, I approve: “I recognize this good in you.” It’s an action on my part. And it’s an action that moves toward union, toward a sharing of the good. “Your existence is good – good for me as well as good for you!”

I’ve been through a few “unrequited” loves: where I was “in love” with someone who either didn’t care for me or just wasn’t available to me. I’ve tried the “unselfish” route of wanting what’s good for them even if I have no part in it, even if what’s good for them is my absence. Even then, though, it’s still me who wants what is good; it’s still me who finds something beautiful or delightful or lovely in the fact that this person is in the world.

I cannot love anyone or anything without experiencing some kind of union, some kind of sharing of the one I love.

This isn’t selfish; it’s the nature of being a self. And it’s impossible to truly love unless there is an “I” who loves. And, to my great relief, there is much to love and many ways to love in this world. Yes, chocolate and sunsets. Yes, family and friends. Yes, God himself, the Giver of all that is good. And yes, even me myself: with all my faults and problems, I still am a creature capable of love – and that itself is perhaps the greatest good of all.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

I’ve had much fodder for reflection on procrastination in the last week or so. I’ve managed to avoid both desired and necessary tasks (such as writing or laundry) while still staying awake till the wee hours with the important work of advancing yet another level in an online game.

If there’s one thing I’m truly expert at, it’s putting off what needs doing.

The nature of my procrastination

I used to describe my procrastination as “not wanting to do something.” As in, “I don’t want to do laundry; I’d rather advance yet another level in this stupid online game.” I would think of it as a competition between an immediate pleasurable good and a remote and/or difficult good. My vice lay in preferring instant gratification.

But this past week, I noticed something. It’s not so much “I don’t want to do {X} (because I’d rather do {Y})” as it is “I want NOT to do {X}.” That is, I’m actively avoiding some activity {X} that I know is good and even necessary – even enjoyable! – and will accept nearly any substitute {Y}, even things that are less enjoyable than {X}, rather than do what is good.

I’m avoiding laundry. I’m running away from laundry.

So … am I afraid of laundry?

Procrastination and fear

I honestly don’t know what I’m afraid of. My shrink calls this, “self-destructive behavior,” which is one of the few psychological terms I comprehend immediately.

But it is absolutely clear to me that I am not “preferring” one good over another. Instead, I am fleeing headlong from something I know to be good, and using whatever excuse is at hand to aid my flight.

It seems that I am intent on sabotaging my own desire and efforts at happiness. There is something about happiness, virtue, goodness, that utterly terrifies me and that I am unwilling (as yet) to face directly.

Virtue and psychology

Psychology and virtue approach the problem from almost opposite angles. Psychology starts with understanding the problem, its roots and causes, and proceeds to prescribe a cure. Virtue, on the other hand, starts with action, and expects understanding to follow upon developing a habit of right action.

I think both approaches are valuable – at least, they have been to me. They both have given me tools to live a better life than I have before, and to hope for a life better still in the future.

But neither of them works alone. Psychology without virtue leads to navel-gazing. And virtue without psychology leads to ignoring the underlying causes so long as they can be covered by mechanical action.

I know I’m over-simplifying. Classical virtue ethics, after all, is all about the formation of one’s character – and not about the mechanical “rightness” of one’s actions. And psychology ultimately seeks a healing of the whole person, including one’s choices and behavior.

Where I am, right now

So I have no profound advice to give here. All I have today is a new recognition of where I am, and a hope that this recognition will allow me to stand fast in the face of my laundry.