. . . “Look then,” she said, “whether
it is proved more strongly by this too: there cannot be two highest goods which
are different. For where two good things are different, the one cannot be the
other. Wherefore neither can be the perfect good, while each is lacking to the
other. And that which is not perfect cannot be the highest, plainly.
“Therefore if two things are the highest
good, they cannot be different. Further, we have proved to ourselves that both
happiness and God are each the highest good. Therefore the highest Deity must
be identical with the highest happiness.”
“No conclusion,” I said, “could be
truer in fact, or more surely proved by reason, or more worthy of our God.”
'”Besides this let me give you
corollary, as geometricians do, when they wish to add a point drawn from the
propositions they have proved. Since men become happy by acquiring happiness,
and happiness is identical with divinity, it is plain that they become happy by
acquiring divinity.
“But just as men become just by
acquiring the quality of justice, and wise by wisdom, so by the same reasoning,
by acquiring divinity they become divine. Every happy man then is divine. But
while nothing prevents as many men as possible from being divine, God is so by
His Nature, men become so by participation.”
'”This corollary,” I said, “or whatever
you call it, is indeed beautiful and very precious.” . . .
—from
Book 3, Prose 10
An old
joke has it that a bright-eyed young country fellow once met a fine young lady
from the next town over. They fell in love, and the young fellow wanted to ask
for her hand in marriage. He had still been raised with manners, so he called
on the girl’s father.
As the
girl and her mother sipped tea on the porch, the boy went inside the house to
make his case. The women were waiting expectantly, when the young man suddenly
stormed out the door, tears streaming down his face, and then ran off down the
road, waving his fists in the air.
“Daddy!
What did you say to him? He’s a good man!”
“That he
is, my dear, that he is,” said the father. “But there was no way you two could
ever be together. There was too much there to keep you apart, and I can’t have
any daughter of mine being so miserable.”
Why, oh
why?” cried the daughter. “He’s from a decent family! He loves me! He goes to
church every Sunday!”
“Yes,”
replied the father, “but he’s not our people.”
“Daddy,
we’re both Baptists!”
“Yes,
but we’re from the Baptist Congregation of America, and he’s from the American
Conference of Baptists. Can you imagine how terrible it’ll be, when you both
make it to Heaven, and you’ll be separated by a barbed wire fence for all of
Eternity?”
Yes,
it’s quite a corny joke, quite the eye-roller, but it also says quite a bit about
how we like to divide, to fragment, and to break apart our happiness into
little bits. The joke, of course, is about small-minded traditional prejudices,
but the reality in an age that supposedly preaches such equality, solidarity,
and universal acceptance is still not all that different.
Lady
Philosophy gets straight to the point. The Divine, however we may squint at it,
is that which is perfect, that to which nothing can be added. Happiness,
however we may squint at it, is that which is perfect, that which leaves
nothing to be desired. There are not many different absolutes, but only one.
There are not many objects of bliss, but only one. Describe the same thing over
and over, and you still have the same thing.
That
which is complete, by its very definition, admits of no absence, for otherwise
it would not be complete. There are no fences dividing the Universe, and there
is no barbed wire keeping all of us apart.
For all
of the striking differences human beings have from one another, they share the
very same nature as human. For all of the perspectives there may be on what
rules the world, there is only one world, and only one rule. Happiness, as the
very end of human nature, is only complete when it is in harmony with the order
of all things. They are one and the same, totally inseparable.
I have struggled
with it, and I can’t seem to find my way around this profound and inspiring
fact: we all proceed from the same origin, and we are all made to return to the
same goal, and we are describing an identical thing. I am happy when I become
most fully myself, and I become most fully myself when I become Divine.
I am not
God Himself, but I am His creature. I become Divine not by being the Creator,
but by participating as fully as I can in all that such a Creator is. I am like
the part that only has meaning and purpose within the context of the whole, the
effect that only makes sense through the design of the cause. Without this
beginning and this end, there is quite literally no “me” at all.
I would
sometimes snigger at people who spoke of being “Godlike” in their lives,
perhaps because I saw so many for whom it was just part of playing a prideful
game. To be like God, I began to recognize, was not about being everything for
myself, but about being myself for everything. It was not about being served,
but about being of service.
Any and
every man will become like God when he shows love, complete and unconditional,
for all that is. In this way, all of us are made to be Godlike. There is no
need for any barbed wire fences.
Written in 9/2015
No comments:
Post a Comment