Virtue Quest

I’ve mentioned before that I have some trouble with gratitude; my self-centered sense of entitlement is uncomfortable with needing to thank anyone for anything.

This is why I’m always glad for the fourth Thursday in November to roll around. Though it’s a “secular” feast, Thanksgiving Day accomplishes everything a sacred holy day should: it draws me out of myself and directs me to others, and particularly to the transcendent reality that surrounds us. It reminds me that life is a gift, and that the proper response to a gift is, “Thank you.”

So, in the spirit of the holiday, I’m making a gratitude list. Here are some (definitely not all) of the people and things for which I give thanks:

• My parents
• The English language, and all those who gave it such beauty – Chaucer, Shakespeare, Dickens, Austen, Tolkien, etc.
• My friends; I’d start listing your names, but you are legion and are all far better than I deserve
• Philosophers like Plato, Aristotle, Augustine of Hippo, and Thomas Aquinas – for teaching me how to think more clearly
• Saints like Catherine of Alexandria, Dominic Guzman, Catherine of Siena, Thomas More, and John Henry Newman – for showing me that what is impossible for me is possible for God
• Public libraries – ’nuff said
• Twenty-first century communications technology
• Garlic, chocolate, bacon, blue cheese, which all add so much joy to the obligation of eating
• Clouds
• Cardigan sweaters
• Dishwashers and washing machines
• Mountains, and the snow that caps them

I’m sure that, if I spent more time, I could keep on adding to this list. Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, for example. But it’s a start. And if you want, feel free to tell me what you’re grateful for in the comments.

Happy Thanksgiving Day!

A friend pointed me to a post on one of her favorite blogs, The Gnosis of Now. The author makes an excellent point about a primary aspect of the “American experiment”: that our society is, in a sense, founded on pluralism. The U.S.A. is not a single people, but a collection of peoples. Our social and governmental structures are meant to allow persons from any and every cultural background to live together in peace.

The fact that this ideal has never, even from the very beginning, found full realization raises the question of whether it is at all possible. One could ask whether this is an impossible goal that should be abandoned, or rather an ideal to strive for despite the fact that it is always beyond perfect attainment. One could also argue that, over the past two centuries, a distinctive “American people” and “American culture” has in fact grown and taken root, and that the opportunity for this pluralistic ideal has passed (though the constant influx of immigrants – both legal and illegal – provides new opportunities every day).

In any case, it’s a good reminder to someone like myself who is delving into my medieval and Catholic roots that the Founding Fathers had an entirely different set of problems they were addressing. I’m trying to grow toward personal virtue and social unity; they were trying to find peace and safety for their plurality of faith and cultural traditions.

I suppose I should pray that these are not incompatible goals.

I always feel awkward around the Independence Day holiday. I’m not by inclination a patriot, just as I’m not by inclination a church-goer. I am both these things because I’ve come to see that my own inclinations, or desires, or vices, have led me astray from reality.

So I recognize the honor that is due to the nation of my birth, and my own responsibility to be as good a citizen as I am able. I just have a hard time bringing any emotional *umph* to the celebration.

I also recognize that, while I’m inclined to focus on the naughtiness of my nation and my speculations on how it ought to change, there is a real need to celebrate what is good and true and virtuous in the United States of America. Perhaps it is especially important for someone like myself to participate in the celebration, exactly as a corrective to my own erroneous inclinations.

The virtue of patriotism

Thomas Aquinas does not list “patriotism” among the virtues, but he does note that all people are both subject to law and responsible for the good of society, and that Justice requires respect for authority and Charity requires action for the good of one’s fellows. As he puts it,

Consequently, this very act of loving someone because he is akin or connected with us, or because he is a fellow-countryman or for any like reason that is referable to the end of charity, can be commanded by charity, so that, out of charity both eliciting and commanding, we love in more ways those who are more nearly connected with us. (ST II-II q26 a7)

These are what make up the essence of patriotism: loving one’s country and fellow citizens exactly because they are one’s fellows. It is closely related to the love of family, whom we do not choose but whom we must love anyway, whether we like it or not. Family and country are, in a sense, a school of charity; they teach us how to love even when loving is difficult.

Ironically (given the whoop-de-do about Church and State in this particular country), it is the Catechism of the Catholic Church that, I think, states most clearly what patriotism is all about:

It is the duty of citizens to contribute along with civil authorities to the good of society in a spirit of truth, justice, solidarity, and freedom. The love and service of one’s country follow from the duty of gratitude and belong to the order of charity. (CCC 2239; emphasis in the original.)

What is critical, to me at least, about this approach is the balance it strikes: one’s country is to be loved, but not because it is better or stronger or more worthy than any other nation; rather, exactly because it is one’s own. I did not choose to be born an American; but I was, and it is as an American that I love the U.S.A. A Canadian or a Chinese might love the U.S.A. for some other reason. Perhaps they admire the American ideal, or perhaps they enjoy economic benefits from America, or any number of other reasons. But my own love of my country is founded simply on the fact that it is mine, or rather, that I belong to my country in a similar way that I belong to my family.

(I’m tempted to add a video of one of my favorite patriotic satires here, but instead I’ll just provide a link.)

American virtues

So, given that it’s not at all to my credit that I am American, what is it that I’ll celebrate with grilling and fireworks and other forms of pyromania today?

First off, I’ll celebrate the very good things I have myself received from the United States: a certain economic opportunity, even in difficult times such as these, to make ends meet without resorting to undignified or immoral work; a definite social opportunity to meet and converse with people from all walks of life and all regions of the country (and even the world), and to learn from their experiences; the English language which, thanks to American dominance following WW2 (augmenting the impact of English colonialism), has become a global language, giving me the advantage of communication with those I would otherwise have no connection; a political system that provides real opportunity (even if limited and corrupted by “special interests”) to contribute to and impact the governance of the society I live in.

I’ll also celebrate the genuine good that the United States has done in the world: through the citizens’ works of charity, of scholarship, of invention; and through the occasionally wise governmental policies, such as developing our highway system or contributing to the reconstruction of Germany and Japan after WW2.

Celebrating the good does not mean I stop critiquing the bad; it simply means I acknowledge that there is virtue to be found even among rampant vice. It means I extend to my country the same charity I extend to my neighbors and myself. I will celebrate my brother’s birthday, even if my brother is a criminal; I will celebrate my friend’s success, even if my friend is often a fool. So, although I am highly critical of many aspects of American politics and culture, I will celebrate America’s birthday with both gratitude and joy. In other words, I will practice the virtue of patriotism, trusting that both I and my country will grow toward greater virtue through practice.

And besides, who can pass up an opportunity for grilled meat?

I love etymology, the study of the origins of words. But it doesn’t take much study to discover that “holiday” is just “holy day” mashed together. Now, that’s easy to swallow for a religious person. There are even some who deliberately abstain from the shopping and decorations and caroling and what not that pervade the last couple months of every year, focusing instead on the particular celebrations of their religion. But is there anything genuinely or universally holy about the “holiday” season?

Holy days in the secular world?

I mentioned in an earlier post that Thanksgiving really strikes me as a holy day. And, being a Catholic, Christmas is of course a big deal for me and my family. But these two days are, I think, holy in very different ways.

Thanksgiving is holy in a kind of universal way, while Christmas is holy in a very specific and particular way.

See, Thomas Aquinas proposes that religion is a natural virtue, not one that depends on any particular creed or belief. He considers it a sub-virtue of justice. He doesn’t mean by this that a court should find you guilty of not spending enough time on your knees or of missing church on Sunday. But he does mean that everybody has a duty to respect and honor the holy and the divine.

And one of the main ways of honoring the holy and divine is through festivals and celebrations. We give thanks for the good things that we have received, and we give credit to the power beyond ourselves which has given those good things to us.

Even if we don’t all agree on the name that power goes by, it is a matter of justice to acknowledge that we have not and could not make or earn or create all the good things we have by our own power. And that’s something that even atheists and Baptists should be able to agree on.

And they do: by celebrating Thanksgiving Day.

Religious religion

Christmas, on the other hand, is a particularly Christian holiday. It’s only because the vast majority of the early American colonists came from Christian backgrounds that government offices and banks and most other businesses close for Christmas.

For myself, I celebrate Christmas because I believe that God became human and was born of the Virgin Mary roughly two millenia ago. I know Jews who celebrate Hanukkah because they believe that God once blessed their temple with light and continues to bless their people. I don’t know people of other faiths well enough to speak for them, but I expect that they celebrate various feasts for similar reasons: because they see some particular way that the holy and divine has touched this world, and perhaps has touched their lives directly.

The virtue of religion

By setting aside time, and by celebrating with special foods and with songs or dancing or trees or costumes or any kind of ritual – by dedicating some part of our lives to religious celebration, we build the habit of keeping in touch with those parts of reality which are beyond our ability to know completely, the source of good and the ground of our existence. This is the virtue of religion: to acknowledge and to honor the holy and divine.

For my small handful of international readers, this week the U.S. is celebrating its Thanksgiving holiday. It’s one of the few holidays on the national calendar that truly deserves the name: it is a day dedicated to a holy act – giving thanks for the good we have received.

The attitude of gratitude

I find it ironic that a festival for giving thanks has both taken deep cultural root in the U.S. and even has become a civil holiday. Why? Because “the American dream” is so rooted in self-reliance, in pulling oneself up by one’s own bootstraps, in the notion of independence. The American ideal is to take what one earns rather than to receive what one is given.

But I think most people – American or otherwise – are too wise to believe all that. I’m certainly aware of how much I have been given without a hint of deserving or earning on my part: my very life, to begin with; my education; the love of my friends and family; the benefits of growing up in the late twentieth century in the wealthiest nation on the planet.

I think there are two ways to show gratitude: first is to rejoice at the gift, and to celebrate the one who gave you the gift; the second way is to use the gift, to unwrap it and give it a place in your life. In other words, when Grandma gives you a sweater, you tell her “Thank you” and then you wear it the next time you see her.

Developing the virtue of gratitude

For much of my life, I felt guilty about all the gifts I’d been given. I actually hated my birthday and Christmas because I had done nothing to deserve the presents I received. I somehow felt like they weren’t actually mine if I hadn’t earned them.

In other words, I’d let the “American ideal” overcome the natural order of things in my life.

Needless to say, “Thank you” did not come easily from my lips – until I realized that gifts are the most natural thing in the world. I realized that gifts always come before accomplishments or “earnings”. And that almost all the anxiety and frustration in my life came from refusing to receive anything as a gift.

So, over the past few years, I’ve been practicing the virtue of gratitude. I don’t mean just saying “Thank you.” I mean pushing aside that feeling of unworthiness and focusing on the goodness of the gift. This is even true of gifts that I don’t want or that are useless to me: I can focus on the love that someone is expressing by giving me something.

And, like all virtues, it grows with practice. By receiving small gifts, physical gifts, I find it’s easier to see the less tangible gifts. I find it’s easier to rejoice in my family, my friends, even co-workers and colleagues. I find it’s easier to see what is good in my church, my country, my home. I find it easier to give thanks for my own life, and I want to use my life for a good purpose.