I just had a zoom meeting with a nice group of guys, one of whom, a teacher, told the story of another teacher he knew.
Some years ago, he was asked to mentor a new teacher coming into the school. The 'new' teacher was actually considerably older than his mentor, in his 50's, and this was about his third career. So the mentor starts showing him the ropes, going over the reality of being a teacher, and, inevitably, he asks his apprentice what was his story and what lead him to being a teacher.
As it turned out, the man didn't need to be a teacher, or to hold down any other job. He was set for life. He had been some sort of executive at the old Christie's factory that used to be near the old Seahorse motel. He and some other execs decided they wanted to make their own cake, and started a business doing just that. The new business caught the eye of Sara Lee, and Sara Lee bought them out. They were now worth millions.
The man spent the next few years travelling the world and playing all the significant golf courses, living out perhaps his fondest daydream from his days in an office. Then, one day, on the fourth hole at Augusta or Pebble Beach, while walking down the fairway smoking his $200 cigar, he thought to himself 'So, is this it?' Was this all there was to be with his life? Where was the impact, where was the difference he was to make? What was his legacy?
And so he decided to take the most impactful job he could think of, and became a teacher.
I thought of several things, (for instance, Luke 12:13-21) of how so few these days seem to be aware of the folly of the restless acquisition of things- those hundred things purchased before did not bring lasting peace or joy, perhaps the hundred and first will. As always, whatever I think or have to say, I inevitably find that someone else thought it first, and said it better. In this case, C.S. Lewis and the Screwtape Letters.
In one of those- I can't remember which one off the top of my head and I'm too lazy to look it up- Screwtape berates his nephew for allowing his 'patient' (for those unfamiliar, Screwtape is a demon writing to his nephew explaining to him how to properly tempt a human) to read a book that he liked, and to go and enjoy a cup of tea at a place he was fond of. What are you playing at? demanded Screwtape. The patient was only supposed to read the 'right' sort of books, not because he would enjoy them (because no one in their right mind could enjoy those books) but so he could make clever remarks about it to his friends- who are to be the 'right' sort of friends, who hang out at the 'right' sort of places. Allowing him to read a book he liked because he liked it and to go to a pub that he enjoyed because he enjoyed it were real and undeniable pleasures and would only show him how drab dreary and shallow these fake pleasures the demons were foisting upon him really were. He would be immune to that sort of worldly temptation thereafter.
Perhaps a trifle melodramatic, but the point hits home for me. I have fallen into the trap of thinking 'If only I had this' or 'If only I did this' and some such, then everything would be wonderful. Tried it, didn't work, and spent a lot of energy trying to tell myself it did.
3 comments:
There must be a fine line. There is a space between not enough and too much.
In "It's a Wonderful Life" Jimmy Stewart's character is speaking to an angel and doesn't know it. The subject of money comes up and the angel, I think, says something to the effects it's not that important, and Jimmy Stewart says "It comes in pretty handy down here Bub.." I always relate to that line. People who say money isn't important probably have the problem of too much money. Too little stinks, and robs life of joy. Pretty much any problem you've got is made at least a little better by having enough money, and any problem you have is made worse by not having enough. I know the Christian take on money. I don't buy it. I see a lot of Democrats guilted into thinking they have too much money. I'm ready to start a GoFundMe and put my hand out and say please give me that extra money you don't want to be burdened with. Both of us will feel better.
The old saying 'money doesn't buy happiness' can be countered with the phrase 'poverty doesn't buy happiness, either.'
Aristotle (and Aquinas, following him) argued that often the path of virtue was a question of degree, and it was flanked on either side by vices. In terms of money- it is good to be frugal, but it is bad to be a cheapskate. It is good to be liberal with money, but it is bad to be a spendthrift. Where one ends and the other begins is not always easy to tell, and there are grey areas.
But in this case, I think if you are counting on having copious money to make you happy, or if you are thinking that you are happier without money- you are still measuring happiness in material ways. Happiness, it seems to me, is above both and dependent upon neither. I should point out that the man who became a teacher kept his money.
Modern writers and movie makers tend to portray the Middle Ages as a time of abject poverty and filth and dreary and drab. CS Lewis called this phenomena Chronological Snobbery. In truth, if you read the poetry of the period, or look at the art that came down to us, they portrayed their lives as being joyful, for they knew how to seize whatever good times came their way and squeeze them for all they were worth. In their pictures, they portray themselves in bright and vibrant colours, a riot of hues to capture the eye. The poorest among us possesses wonders far beyond what even the richest of them could ever hope to have, and yet they knew that there was a time for happiness and celebration, and that if life was short, it was best to enjoy whatever good came your way.
Convention and material comfort can be spiritual opioids.
Finding beauty and joy in the seemingly small and mundane--and cultivating gratitude for those moments--has been helpful.
Post a Comment