I do not know whether the sound of humans screaming at each other is the same as that of doves crying. In 1984, the musician known as Prince seemed to think so. I do know that it does not accomplish much when we blame others for our lot in life and that there are better options.
Stoic Wisdom
Errant...qui aut boni aliquid nobis aut mali iudicant tribuere fortunam: materiam dat bonorum ac malorum et initia rerum apud nos in malum bonumve exiturarum. Valentior enim omni fortuna animus est et in utramque partem ipse res suas ducit beataeque ac miserae vitae sibi causa est.
"They make a mistake...who judge that fortune gives something either good or bad to us. Fortune gives the raw material of good and bad and the beginnings of things that will come out among us either good or bad. Stronger than all fortune is the mind and it itself leads its own affairs in either direction and is the cause of a happy or wretched life for itself." Seneca, Epistle XCVIII
My students and I discuss this passage from one of the letters of the Roman Stoic philosopher Seneca (4 B.C. -- 65 A.D.) in our third-year Latin class. It seems an apt reminder in an age in which blame seems the name of the game, although that does not greatly separate our current age from any other, and it came to mind when a middle-aged friend recently emailed me the following.
"My sister used to blame everything wrong with her life on our parents, my father especially. I explained to her that Mom and Dad weren't perfect parents, and neither were we, and screaming [at him] won't solve anything. Our parents have left us with problems to deal with, but our parents weren't able to fix those problems, so they're 'our' problems now. Hopefully we can add a few pieces to the puzzle so our children won't have to deal with the same problems we had to deal with. Also, never forget that while our parents dealt with those problems, they still loved us enough to raise us to the point where we [were] mature enough to deal with such problems, just as we will do for our children.
"Our parents are human, with all the human frailties and glorious potential of the next person. We think of them [as] perfect beings when we are children, which is appropriate for a child's development, but, as Paul said in 1 Corinthians 13:11, 'When I became a man, I put away childish things.' Unless they were simply monsters, our parents did the best they could most of the time, although sometimes not reaching the mark of what they could have achieved in their own lives or ours, but again, no one does."
Chain-Breakers and Legacy-Makers
Turkey Run State Park
When our son was a teen, he and I went away for a few days each fall to Turkey Run State Park in western Indiana. We hiked the trails and talked of what it meant to become a man and in particular, a man of God. As I planned something special for the autumn when he turned eighteen, I asked him who were some of the men who meant the most to him, and he quickly named four. I then invited each of them to join us on one evening of our annual trip to share their own thoughts about manhood with my son.
One of them spoke to him about those who are chain-breakers and those who are legacy-makers. Rob explained that some people will be the ones to break the chains of abuse or addiction or the many other curses that afflict families and often continue across the generations. Others, he said, will be the legacy-makers, those who live lives of fullness in Christ and pass on His life and light to their descendants.
It is far easier to blame others for the things that are not working well in our lives. Some of those people may indeed be the cause of the worst that we experience, and not blaming them in no way exonerates them. Not blaming them, however, frees people to become the chain-breakers and legacy-makers that help themselves and others live the lives for which we were made and to which we are called. The choice, of course, is always our own to make.
I blogged very little in 2024 in part because I was working on the publication of my latest book, The Golden Waffle Principle: Finding Meaning In Teaching. Now that it is set to come out later this month (see my website for more information), I look forward to blogging on a more regular basis.
In 2006, Rocky Balboa came out of retirement. After sixteen years since the previous film in the Rocky franchise, Sylvester Stallone explored the challenges facing an aging athlete who wanted to see whether he still had what it took to go the distance. Seven years before Rocky climbed back into the ring, a computer programmer who thought his name was Thomas Anderson discovered that he was actually Neo, The One long awaited to free captive minds from The Matrix. Taken together, both of these films, along with a poem from 1842 based on an event from Roman antiquity, have something to tell us about facing the challenges of daily life.
Getting Hit
In Rocky Balboa, the sixth film of the award-winning boxing franchise, the former heavyweight champ talks straight with his son, now a young businessman.
Rocky: [W]hen things got hard, you started looking for something to blame, like a big shadow. Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty place, and I don't care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't how hard you hit. It's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward. How much can you take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done! But you gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers, saying you ain't where you wanna be because of him or her or anybody! Cowards do that, and that ain't you! You're better than that!
We all know this, but, like Rocky's son, we need to be reminded from time to time, yet that is not the point of this post. I want to look at the kinds of punches life throws. There are times when it seems as if life is trying to take us out with one knockout punch, perhaps through a devastating loss or a betrayal or catastrophic news. More often, however, we seem to be the victim of a rain of body blows, those jabs to the torso that do not K.O. boxers, but that weaken them to the point they cannot continue. But if a boxing metaphor is not to your taste, consider a hailstorm of bullets.
Neo Against the Agents
In the philosophical/theological/sci-fi film The Matrix, Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves) is the target of malevolent programs personified as Agents. After one of them kills him, a character named Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) expresses to him her love, by which he is resurrected as Neo, the savior for whom many have been waiting. Multiple Agents then discharge their weapons toward him, but now he merely looks curiously at the bullets as they freeze in the air and then fall to the ground. When his chief nemesis Agent Smith rushes to attack him, Neo fights him almost casually, more fascinated by watching his own hands move than by any threat from Smith.
I want to be like Neo. When I think about the hits that life dishes out, they seem to me more like body blows than a singular, knockout punch. They are the small bullets of annoyance and frustration and burden rather than a nuclear bomb of devastating power. Yet how does one do what Neo did? How does one face enemies with strength rather than with stress? In his case, it came from knowing who he truly was. Once the love of Trinity restored him to life, and the biblical parallel here is unmistakable, his clear and grounded identity as The One allowed him to see threats for what they really were, and when it came to their source, Agent Smith, he did not so much as deign to look at him.
Ignoring the Craven Ranks
In 1842 Thomas Babington Macaulay published a book of poems titled Lays of Ancient Rome, the most famous of which is "Horatius." It tells in rousing verse the story of Horatius Cocles, the Roman hero who, with two friends, defended the bridge into Rome against an invading army in the late 6th century B.C. As the three warriors hold the far side, those on the Roman end work to hew down the bridge, and as it totters above the boiling tide, two of them run back before the boards crash into the waves. The invading king invites Horatius to surrender, for he is now trapped on the bank with no way back to Rome. Horatius, however, as with Neo, pays his enemy no regard. In the words of Macaulay,
Round turned he, as not deigning
Those craven ranks to see,
and dove into the river, still wearing his armor and bleeding from the fight, and swam across to the cheering welcome of his countrymen.
Horatius, Bernardo Strozzi (1581-1644)
I, for one, want to do just that. I want to turn round and not so much as deign to look upon the craven ranks of stress, anxiety, worry, fear, pressure, and all the pretended fierceness of the things that would distract me from that to which God calls me each day. This is only possible when I operate from an unshakably grounded knowledge that I am a friend of Jesus Christ and along with Him a beloved child of God. It was in His unshakable identity as the Son of God, which had just been proclaimed for all to hear, that Jesus with cool strength and disregard for His enemy stood against Satan in the desert.
In one of the most stirring parts of the poem "Horatius," the titular hero calls out to his fellow Romans,
Now who will stand on either hand,
And keep the bridge with me?
As we enter the new year, I want to stand in the strength of my identity in Christ against all the attacks of life. Jesus Himself shows it can be done, and we have such rousing examples in our literature and dramatic tales. Will you be one of those to stand with me?
