Virtue Quest

I just returned from breakfast with George Weigel – he happened to pick my table to sit at – who was this morning’s speaker for the Catholic Professionals of Seattle. The basic gist of his talk was to promote his newest book: The End and the Beginning, which is a “sequel” and a completion of his 1999 biography of Pope John Paul II, Witness to Hope.

There was a bit of cold war spy drama, and a bit of “Lifestyles of the Holy and Famous,” and a bit of Vatican inside baseball; but one detail from his presentation jumped out at me. He said that he took part of the structure of his book from the process of canonization – the Catholic Church’s process of declaring someone a saint. One of the stages asks witnesses to describe the potential saint’s life in terms of the theological and cardinal virtues: Faith, Hope, and Charity; Prudence, Justice, Courage, and Temperance. Mr. Weigel noted, as an aside, that it’s an interesting exercise to look at life through the lens of the virtues, but that most people don’t do it.

A life out of focus

The virtues really form the only lens that has been able to bring my own life in to focus. But I only stumbled upon them by accident, myself. The classical model of virtue runs almost directly counter to most of twenty-first century American culture.

Now, Americans tend to value daring, or initiative, or valor; and that quality is similar to courage. Americans appreciate cleverness and foresight; those are certainly aspects of prudence. And it goes almost without saying that Americans are passionate about rights, which are a part of the virtue of justice.

However, American culture takes these values for granted, as a collection of qualities whose importance is assumed to be self-evident. In fact, it’s a kind of jumble that ultimately serves another purpose: one’s own interests.

Following the more-or-less normal course of life, I always found myself confused: should I take a risk or should I follow the safe course? Should I insist on my rights or make sure I’m not trampling someone else’s? Should I pursue my own interests or those of my employer/family/country?

Putting life in focus

When I discovered the idea of the virtues, I finally found a principle to help me answer all those questions. Like putting on my glasses, it brought all the fuzzy shapes into focus, and I could see more clearly what to do – and, more importantly, why to do it.

The virtues depend on one another. Love, or Charity, shows us what is good, and drives us to pursue it. Prudence shows us what is real, and sorts out the details of the situation as it really exists. These two virtues form the bedrock and cornerstone of our lives.

Justice and Faith both guide us in knowing what to do: we give to everyone what belongs to them, and we recognize them as fellow children of God, infinite in dignity and worthy of profound respect. These virtues form the framing structure that gives shape to our lives.

Hope, Courage, and Temperance all give us the strength or the stamina to follow through on the loving and prudent actions that Justice and Faith guide us to do. They support us in the face of despair, or fear, or temptation. They are like cross-braces that give a building strength and stability.

Taken together, the virtues describe the whole form of a person’s life.

An end and a beginning?

As Mr. Weigel points out in the life of Pope John Paul II, the virtues allow us to understand the depth and complexity of a man whose actions sometimes appeared confusing or contradictory to American eyes.

But I find virtue is as important at the beginning of each day as it is at the end of a life. I ask, how can I understand my own life; and how can I bring it to be the best life I can carry out, the kind of life I was created to live?

I’ve recently started a nine-month “retreat” – though maybe a better name would be a spiritual workshop – based on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. The goal of the retreat, at least for me at this point in my life, is to learn the skill and process of discernment.

Discernment is the ability to see clearly or, maybe better, to see to the heart of the matter. It is the ability to tell one thing from another. So with physical vision, for example, it is the ability to tell your mother from your sister when they’re still a quarter mile down the street.

In morality, it is the ability to tell good from evil, (which usually is easy,) or to distinguish one good from another, (which often is harder). It is the skill of seeing the good that I should pursue in this situation, and the good that I should let go, at least for the moment.

Getting to the Exercises

I had long been suspicious of the Ignatian Exercises because, from what people told me of them, it sounded like they boiled down to “find your heart’s deepest desire.” But there’s much more to life than the desires of my heart, even the deepest ones, so I spent many years avoiding the Exercises.

However, after only the first couple sessions, I’ve discovered to my great delight (and only partly to my surprise) that the Exercises contain a great deal more that mere emotionalism. I figured as much, since they’ve stood the test of five centuries; but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find a director who would go beyond the passions.

Putting my questions in order

I should say here that I’m bringing what I’m learning to this blog as I’m learning it. In other words, these are my first impressions, in the moment of discovery. Please don’t take this as a complete exposition on Ignatius or his program.

One of the first things I’m learning is that discernment involves putting my questions in the proper order. Here’s what I’ve sorted out at this point:

1. What desires, attachments, thoughts persist in me? What remains strong over time? What are the deep desires of my heart?
2. Where do these attachments or desires lead? What are their various results or consequences?
3. What do I choose to be my goal or destination?
4. Seeing my desires and my destination, what practical step will I take? Which desire will I pursue, and how?
5. Having taken that action, what in fact happened? Were there any surprises, or anything to consider in taking my next action

Obviously, this is a process for major decisions; everyday decisions, I hope, can be made more easily and without so much reflection. But since I have trouble with both kinds of decision-making, I’m very glad for any tool of discernment that comes my way.

The following is the article I mentioned below, originally printed in Gleanings in their September 2010 issue (.pdf). They’ve been kind enough to let me reprint it here. Legal notices at the bottom.

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A friend of mine loves to delve into the roots of words. She loves discovering distant relations between words that reveal their deeper meanings. For example, the other day we explored the relationships between words like “lector” and “election” and “collect” — all of which have descended from the Latin verb legere, which means to gather, or to choose, or to read (because reading is about choosing the correct meaning of the word on the page).

In the same way, phrases have “family histories” as well. The phrase, “strike while the iron is hot” comes from the fact that a blacksmith had to watch for the iron to turn just the right color — red hot, or white hot, or somewhere between — so that his hammer could have just the right effect. The phrase doesn’t mean just to take action; it means to take the right kind of action at the right time.

“Strike while the iron is hot” advises us to be diligent in all areas of life. And diligence, oddly enough, is another legere word: it means to collect information and select the right action in response. But it means even more than that.

Holy Diligence

St. Thomas Aquinas, the greatest theologian of the medieval Church, teaches that “diligence” refers to the same virtue as “solicitude,” which also refers to the same virtue as “vigilance.” To be diligent is to be watchful, to be attentive, to be careful about matters that are important. But there is even more meaning than that in this word. The Latin word Thomas uses, diligere, means “to prize, love, esteem highly.” So, when he explains why “diligence” is the same as “solicitude” (meaning attentive care or concern) he says, “the more we love (diligimus) a thing the more solicitous are we about it.”

In other words, diligence is a form of love: it is the kind of love that chooses something to be our own, and takes care of it. It is the love that pays attention to what we love, because we have taken responsibility for it.

This is, of course, one of the ways that God loves us: he chooses each one of us to be his own. He watches over us, and attends to our needs. He provides what is important to keep us safe and to show our value to him.

He gives us his Son, who chose to join himself to us “in the fullness of time” – that is to say, when the iron was hot – in our journeys and in our labors and even, ultimately, in agony and death. He did this because he prized us and chose us to be his own.

He gives us his Spirit, his very life, his own power of love, to watch over each one of us and to guide each of us toward the joy he has prepared for us.

How to Be Diligent

Because we have his Spirit, we also have his love. That means that, just as he does, we can love with diligence. We can choose someone to be our own — as we do in friendship, or in marriage. We can collect all those things good and necessary for the one we love — as we do for our children. We can watch for the right moment, for the opportunity to demonstrate our love — as we do when someone needs help or wants company.

And, as much as we love one another diligently, God calls us to love him diligently as well.

Of course, God doesn’t need anything from us; we don’t have to take care of him. But we do have to take care of our relationship; that’s how we choose him to be our own.

For example, I sometimes go to daily Mass after work. In the evening I’m usually tired and I have developed a bad habit of nodding off during the readings or the homily. But I’ve discovered that if I’m diligent, if I make sure I get a good night’s sleep and eat a snack in the mid-afternoon, I’m able to stay awake. I’m able to be attentive and present to my God, who is making himself available and present to me. And I keep from distracting the rest of the congregation with my snoring.

I’m a naturally lazy man, and I know I won’t find time to pray unless I set aside time in my daily planner, just as I would for any other important appointment. And, just like an important appointment, there’s some preparation that goes into getting ready for the meeting. So I remind myself to take time for spiritual reading — usually the Bible or some spiritual master. I know that if I want to see clearly what God is doing in my prayer and in my life, I’d better set up some reminders to be careful and attentive, to keep watchful, to make my choice active in every moment of my life.

The Danger of Negligence

The opposite of diligence is negligence. If “diligence” means “to choose for one’s own,” then “negligence” is the “neg”-ative of choice. Negligence is the refusal to choose, and therefore the refusal to love. Negligence says, “You are not worth my attention.”

Jesus tells many parables warning us against negligence. In the parable of the sower, what is the problem with the rocky or the thorny soil? They both neglect to fully receive Christ. Or, what would happen to the treasure in the field or the pearl of great price if the merchant neglected them? Their value and worth would never be found. And of course, what is the difference between the wise and foolish virgins waiting for the bridegroom? The foolish ones neglected to prepare their lamps with oil.

What is the point of all these parables? That if we treat God with negligence, if we refuse to put time and care into our relationship with him, we will miss him when he comes. We will not recognize him because we have neglected to get to know him. This means that we will neglect to enter eternal life with him in Heaven, as some of the parables make clear; but it also means that we will miss out on the gifts and joys and blessings he offers us every day. If we neglect the foretaste of Heaven now, we will not be able to taste and see his goodness then.

The Joy of Diligence

On the other hand, the time put into preparation and the effort of watching attentively pays off abundantly in those life-changing moments, those times when we must make a decision and make it now — to change a career, to enter a relationship with someone, to follow a call to priesthood or religious life — and we find ourselves ready. We have chosen God as our greatest good, we have collected the gifts and blessings he has given us, and we recognize the shape and color of his love in this moment. Like the blacksmith, we know when the iron is ready to be shaped, and we have the tools at hand to shape it according to God’s glorious design.

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Copyright © 2010 WWCCR, reprinted with permission.

I have a meeting in St. Louis this weekend, so this morning I had to pack my bags before heading out to work. And I’ve been a bit sleep deprived this past week (more on that to come in a future post), so I’m just hoping that I didn’t forget anything major.

Now, I always forget something. My hope is that it’s nothing important.

I was talking with a friend last night about packing strategies. Mine is, about five minutes before I run out the door, I open the suitcase and throw in anything I can think I might want. Her strategy is to start planning months in advance, maximizing efficiency and comfort, and making sure nothing is forgotten.

I’m just about to grab dinner and head to the airport. But I thought I’d make a note that planning in advance, especially for travel, is a virtue I should think about developing one of these days. Or years. Or whatever. I think it would fall under Prudence.

Siobhan asked me if I was ever going to write about anything besides prudence. My short answer is, yes-and-no.

The long answer is that, the way I see it, writing about any one of the virtues really entails writing about them all. Every virtue implies every other, ultimately. The names are simply a matter of focus.

… from a certain point of view…

As far as I know, this approach to virtue is something I made up on my own, so I welcome anybody to correct or refine what I’m saying here.

It seems to me that the virtues are not exactly separate things from each other, but distinct aspects of a virtuous action.

So, any given action – for example, eating a bowl of ice cream (one of my favorite actions!) – can be seen from the perspective of prudence, or justice, or fortitude, or temperance. For that matter, you can look at it from the point of view of faith, or hope, or love.

My thinking is still a bit muddy, but I find the cardinal virtue / theological virtue distinction to be valuable here, showing two major lenses to use in looking at actions.

Cardinal virtues

So, in deciding about eating a bowl of ice cream, one can ask whether it is prudent. That is, is eating ice cream really a good thing for me in my current situation?

One can also ask, is it temperate? That is, are my desires within me in harmony with the truth and facts I’ve prudently discovered? Or, is it courageous? That is, must I overcome obstacles in order to achieve the good that I have prudently discovered?

Finally, one acts. And one asks, is this action just? That is, am I pursuing good in accordance with reality, opposing my false desires and overcoming obstacles?

So, prudence discovers the good; fortitude and temperance clear the way to pursuing that good, one by overcoming external obstacles and the other by opposing internal disorders; and justice acts to pursue the good. All the virtues collaborate in the process of taking action, and any given action is virtuous to the extent that it conforms to all the cardinal virtues.

Theological virtues

I see the theological virtues as a kind of parallel. Faith discovers the good – not merely relying on my own reason, but trusting in the testimony of others. Hope clears the path to the good by putting false desires and external obstacles in proper perspective. And love acts for the good, even by laying down one’s life for one’s beloved.

So the theological virtues build upon the cardinal virtues and express them, not merely from my own individual and human perspective, but from a higher perspective, even a divine perspective.

What about the ice cream?

I understand that the greatest question here may be, “Yeah, but did you eat the ice cream?”

How could you be in any doubt? Ice cream is a form of pure concentrated goodness.

Of course I ate the ice cream!

I was reading an article called “The Difference between Needs and Wants” which to me seemed useful, but not quite on target.

The author cites Aristotle as equating “needs” with “real goods,” i.e., “the things that every human requires for the pursuit of happiness,” and equating “wants” with “apparent goods,” which sometimes are actually bad for people. He goes on to describe how focusing on needs rather than wants will lead to a fuller, happier life.

What’s good and what’s bad?

Don’t get me wrong: I think the article gives basically good advice. But I think he over-simplifies the whole nature of human desire and the objects of our desires. And that can give the wrong idea that “wants” are somehow not “real goods” for us.

One of the fundamentals of Aristotle’s view of nature is that everything that exists is good because existence itself is good. So, if anything exists at all, then it is at least in that minimal way good.

More than that, the idea of “bad” or “evil” is not equal to the idea of “good.” What I mean is that goodness is a real, positive thing that exists. “Badness” or “evil” is not something that is real in itself; it is the absence or the distortion of some real thing – some good thing.

A good example is blindness. Blindness is not a thing in itself; it is only the distortion or destruction of sight. Sight is real, and good. Blindness is nothing except the absence of sight.

Virtue and human desire

Now, desire (and its partner, aversion) is the means by which we sense good and the lack of good. Your eyes see a square of a dark-brown color, and your nose smells a unique combination of sweet and bitter, and your fingers feel a hard smooth texture. In your mind, you combine all these senses into an understanding of the thing itself: a chocolate bar.

But it is desire which judges that chocolate bar to be good or bad. Or rather, it is desire that identifies what is good in the chocolate bar, and what is lacking.

So, you may find yourself with conflicting desires: you know it tastes good, but you also know it will give you a sugar high and subsequent crash, or that it is fattening. In other words, you desire both the flavor of chocolate and the benefits of health.

Thankfully, desire is not the end of the story: our ability to reason enables us to sort out the various good things that we desire, and to make a decision. The trick is to let ourselves be informed by, but not driven by, our desires.

Needs and wants, real and apparent goods

So, everything that we desire is a “real” good, insofar as it exists and has some kind of goodness that we recognize. And everything we desire is an “apparent” good, because it is a good that appears to us. There are goods that we don’t easily recognize (e.g., the value of doing your taxes,) and there are goods whose limitations we overlook (e.g., having another drink with that cute somebody); but desire is always seeking something good.

Prudence means that we let reason sort through all those good things we desire, and search them to figure out if we’re overlooking some limitation or even falsehood about the good we desire. Prudence also applies labels like “need” to goods that we literally cannot live without. Prudence weighs the goods we’d have to give up (time, money, a good night’s sleep) against the good thing we want.

Then, through the virtue of prudence, we can make decisions that we can honestly say are good.

My doctor tells me that it’s not uncommon to feel drowsy in the mid-afternoon, and that either a little snack or a bit of exercise is a decent alternative to a nap. For myself, the soporific tendencies begin around 3:00pm, and a snack will at best delay the lowering of the eyelids.

But today has been a particularly productive day in a number of ways. I solved a tricky network problem for my uncle’s insurance business, reviewed my parents’ taxes from last year in preparation for filing this year’s, finished reading Book IX of Aristotle’s Nichomachean Ethics, and accomplished a few other little household tasks.

By three in the afternoon, I was certainly feeling sleepy, but I also wanted to keep rolling on this productivity streak. At the very least, I wanted to write a blog entry … but I knew if I sat down at my computer I’d sooner or later drift off into the Land of Nod.

Prudence to the rescue!

So I took stock of my situation. I was sleepy, but not really tired; I wanted to get some more work done, but didn’t have the energy. I wasn’t hungry. I wasn’t even feeling particularly lazy, for once!

Moreover, I’d just been talking with my mother about the taxes, and I knew that both she and I were trying to incorporate exercise as a regular part of our lives.

So I asked her, “How about a walk around the neighborhood?”

As we walked, she asked about this blog and I said that I was planning to write today about the relationship of prudence and justice. I described prudence as the virtue of being in touch with reality, with one’s place in that real situation, and making decisions in accordance with one’s nature.

And it only occurred to me at that point that I had used exactly that process in deciding to ask my mom to take a walk with me.

An action and then a habit

For a long time, I’ve been thinking about prudence, thinking about how to practice it, thinking about how it fits in with the other virtues, thinking … thinking …

Today is the first time I’ve actually caught myself being prudent. I don’t think it’s bragging to say that I’m happy about it. After all, it’s a fairly small act of prudence, and it’s still a long ways from being “second nature” to me. But every action helps to build the habit; and I’m going to remember this little action when I’m faced with future temptations to nap or to do anything else that avoids facing the real world.

After all, I know that I can do it, at least in a small way. And if I can do it, you certainly can as well!

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!

Thank God I have a reliable news source like The Onion to keep me on top of the latest important events! Here’s from their latest report:

WASHINGTON—In an effort to combat what organizers are calling “our current epidemic of complete and utter obliviousness,” the American Foundation for Paying Attention to Things has declared December “National Awareness Month.”

“All across the country, millions of men and women are dangerously unaware,” AFPAT spokesperson Karen Teeling said during a press conference Monday. “What’s worse, the vast majority of those suffering from this debilitating state of mind don’t even know it.”

This is an event that all questors after virtue should support and participate in as much as possible. After all, just plain being aware of the real world, as it actually is, is the first action of prudence, and the foundation of all the other virutes!

Prudence: the foundation of the virtues

Prudence, in the classical sense, is not the sort of self-serving hemming and hawing one does to avoid difficulty; nor is it the greedy cleverness that enables one to get away with unacceptable activities. Rather,as Josef Pieper puts it, it is “the perfected ability to make right decisions.”

In order to make right decisions, a person needs several things:

• Intelligence: that is, the ability to perceive and understand reality
• Memory: the ability to accurately hold one’s knowledge in mind
• Docility, or Teachability: openness to the experience of others
• Cleverness: clarity and quick-wittedness in the face of the unexpected
• Rational foresight: the ability to draw correct conclusions from what is known
• Circumspection: not the ability to keep a secret, but the awareness of how circumstances affect the means used to achieve one’s goal
• Caution: awareness of dangers and evils involved in a situation

Oi! That’s a lot to hold on to. But it all really boils down to two things: First, awareness of reality; and second, the ability to draw conclusions about one’s actions.

How I became more aware of the world

A few years ago, I literally fell asleep at the wheel and crashed into the car in front of me. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but I realized that I couldn’t let myself drift off again. I had to take a fresh look at my own behavior and at my impact (so to speak) on the world around me.

I had to learn to take seriously that first action of prudence: I had to open my eyes and look around me. I had to become more aware.

I did this by taking some time to think about each day before I entered the rush and race of it all. One of the first things I realized was that I wasn’t getting enough sleep, so I had to take some time from my evenings to go to bed earlier. I still struggle with this: I feel like I have so many things left undone, I don’t have time to look around or take stock of the world around me.

The truth is, though, that I don’t have time not to take stock of what’s going on around me – and within me. Maybe I really should take the month of December to practice a little more awareness of my surroundings.

One of these days, I’ll have to write a post on procrastination. I’m not sure when I’ll get around to it. Probably as soon as I finish explaining all the virtues in copious detail, finish writing my novel, get to the weekend, or maybe just as soon as I finish lunch.

I’m not even including the stupid excuses, like: as soon as I finish this game of solitaire, or, as soon as I finish watching this TV show.

It’s always “as soon as I….” It’s like a disease. And, as I was describing it to my friend the other day, she came up with a name for the disease: assoonasitis – a chronic inflamation and swelling of “as soon as I” in one’s vocabulary, leading to gross inactivity, perpetual vegetative state, and ultimately death.

Is there a doctor in the house?

I’ve never found a cure, and I don’t claim to be an expert on treating this disease, but I’ve lived with it all my life and I’ve tried all sorts of ways to overcome it, or at least to manage it.

I have only found two methods that consistently work.

• Regular accountability therapy with a trustworthy friend
• Immediate application of action at the first sign of an “as soon as I” flare-up

These methods need to be used together. Holding myself accountable to a friend gives me a consistent sense of motivation, as well as feedback on what I’m doing well and where I need improvement. I have one friend that I call every week, on a schedule. I have another friend whom I usually run into at least a couple times a week, and we both take the opportunity to catch up with each other.

This reduces the “as soon as I” impulse, but it doesn’t eliminate it entirely. That’s why the second method is just as important: in the very instant I find myself making excuses, right away I need to start doing something active and productive and useful. It doesn’t necessarily need to be the exact thing I’m avoiding; but it does need to be on the list of tasks I need to accomplish that day. It can be as simple as taking a shower, or as complex as driving across town for a project. The important thing is that I stop thinking up excuses in my head, and start doing something good with my body.

Virtue: medicine for what ails you

The reason these work is that the best way to overcome a vice is to replace it with a virtue. So, in my case, the vice is sloth and procrastination. The virtue I need is actually prudence leading to justice: it’s seeing reality instead of my made-up excuses, and acting according to that reality.

If you have found ways of overcoming procrastination, please tell us about it in the comment box, or drop me a line. Thanks!