Virtue Quest

It’s easy to see how faith is a theological virtue; but I think there is also a natural virtue of faith. It is the habit of believing or trusting in anyone’s ability to do any good.

I bring this up because I sometimes get depressed about my own failures or, more accurately, my not living up to my own expectations. I think, “By this time, I should be making six figures” or “Why haven’t I found Miss Right?” or “Holy crap, am I still living with my parents?”

When I’m in such a mood, it’s hard to trust anyone else. I reject compliments. I turn all Scrooge-and-Grinch-like. I get into arguments way too easily.

Faith and trust

It’s hard to trust others when I feel like I can’t trust myself. When I cease believing in my own ability to do good – or even to do any better than I have in the past – then I lose any basis for believing that anyone else can do good either.

I think there are two reasons for this. The first is that any experience of others I have is based on my own past experience; so, if I only have experience of disappointment, then I don’t really know how to believe or hope for something good.

The second reason is that I myself am the standard that I measure the world against. Sound kind of egotistical, but I think it’s just the nature of being a subject, of having a first-person perspective. So I look at others and I compare what I see of them to how I feel inside myself and then extrapolate to how that other person must feel or think or whatever.

So, if I’m feeling like a disappointment in myself, like I’m untrustworthy, then I don’t really remember those times when I actually fulfilled a trust placed in me, and I can only see people around me as better than me or the same as me.

Envy and lack of faith

When I see people as the same as me, or even as worse than me, it’s easy to understand why I don’t trust them. They’re even less trustworthy than I am!

But those I see as better than me, because I see them acting in good and noble ways, I tend to regard with envy. I tell myself that they’ve received some benefit, some gift or ability that has been denied to me. I envy them, and don’t trust them because of spite.

And I think that’s the ultimate problem I have in practicing natural faith: I keep referring to myself as the standard. But faith requires me to open up and let other people be other than I am – to let them be themselves. And to trust that they really can be themselves without conforming to my standard for myself. Moreover, to trust that they might have some insight into the world, even into me, that I don’t have.

Faith means remembering that the world does not revolve around me.

Theological faith

The gift of faith, as the Christian tradition articulates it, forms the basis for relating to God as a person. But it is not all that different from the natural virtue I’ve been describing. As Thomas Aquinas says somewhere, “Grace builds on nature.” (Anyone know where he says that? I admit I don’t know!)

Faith is the foundation of any personal relationship: trusting another to be him- or herself. And trusting that they also trust me to be myself: just one person among billions … yet still unique.

I’ve always loved the beginning of Frank Herbert’s novel, Dune:

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!

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.

I am well acquainted with failure. I’ve failed tests, failed whole courses. I’ve been fired from jobs, lost friends, burned bridges. Heck, I’ve even made my mother cry.

And yet, I find real hope and insight in that old saying, “The only real failure is the one who fails to try.”

Progress in Virtue

Virtue is not an either/or proposition. It’s not something you can “succeed” or “fail” at. It’s a journey of sorts. The real question is, how far along the road are you? The 90-year-old master still is walking the same road as the 13-year-old beginner, and both can stumble or turn the wrong way. And they both have the same choice to make, every day and in every action: to stay on the road, or to abandon it altogether.

So I keep reminding myself that virtue is something I make progress in, not something I succeed at. Even attempting to be more thoughtful, or more courageous, or more self-controlled – even if I fail in achieving some goal at the time – still is a step along the road. It’s a step toward greater prudence, greater fortitude, greater temperance. In short, it’s progress.

Practicing Virtue

Whenever I remember this, I look for opportunities to take another step, even a small step, along the road. It’s like practicing the piano (or, in my case, the bass guitar). If I take the time to practice scales and chord patterns, then it’s easier to play a song with other people.

And if I take the opportunity to think before I speak, or to face some small fear, or to let pass one bowl of ice cream, then I’m better prepared for bigger challenges, and for challenges that catch me by surprise. I’m a little further down the road, and even if I face a setback, it won’t set me back so far.

Learning from Experience

Saturday was not really a great day for me. I stayed in bed longer than I planned to. I didn’t finish the chapter I wanted to finish, didn’t call the friend I wanted to call, didn’t make it to the library or get the bathrooms cleaned. But I did get a little bit done. And yesterday, Sunday, I remembered how I just never got started on Saturday. So I learned from that: I got started right away, and Sunday turned out pretty well: made breakfast for my housemates, finished the chapter, met some new friends, and so on. Neither day was perfect, but both days saw me on the road. That’s the goal: just stay on the road.

Walking the road of virtue yourself? Join me and we’ll walk it together!