You remember, of course, what joy you felt when you laid aside the garments of boyhood and donned the man's toga, and were escorted to the forum; nevertheless, you may look for a still greater joy when you have laid aside the mind of boyhood and when wisdom has enrolled you among men.
For it is not boyhood that still stays with us, but something worse—boyishness. And this condition is all the more serious because we possess the authority of old age, together with the follies of boyhood, yea, even the follies of infancy. Boys fear trifles, children fear shadows, we fear both.
I have all sorts of memories of moments that were supposed be great achievements, usually arranged to give a sense that a profound transition was taking place. There were graduations, and concerts, and award ceremonies, and weddings, and christenings, and we were always assured that they were signs of our growing up, that we had finally made something of ourselves, that we should be so deeply proud of taking life by the horns.
I never got to put on a toga for the first time, but I do recall feeling like I was king of the world at my Catholic Confirmation. I had a really classy dark blue three-piece suit, and everyone told me I was now a man.
I do indeed still cherish such things, but I also see, in a bittersweet sort of way, that we are easily tempted to pay more attention to the external trappings than to any internal changes of character. I went through many of these motions, even as I wasn’t really becoming any better or wiser. Wearing a big man’s clothes won’t make me a big man.
My thinking will have to change, not just my worldly status or position; the fancy appearances cannot cover for the deeper reality. The love of wisdom and virtue are the greatest achievements of the soul, the qualities that make us real “men”, since they perfect our very humanity. A man is never a man because he swaggers, or rages, or curses, or conquers anyone other than himself.
A sort of shallow childishness, rather distinct from the innocence of being a child, can stay with us far longer than it rightly should. It is completely normal for the child to be ignorant, or driven by his passions, or confused by the meaning of the world, because he is not yet able to know any better. I, on the other hand, should already know far better.
Perhaps most of all, the childish side of me is constantly afraid. I might not be willing to openly admit it, but I am regularly terrified of petty and imaginary things. The fear of pain, loss, loneliness, failure, and shame will gnaw at me. Above everything else, the fear of death paralyzes me.
Maturity would tell me that none of these things are really threats, since none of these things have any power over my own judgments, unless I freely permit them to do so. Here is the catching up I need to do, here is the growing up I need to do.
For it is not boyhood that still stays with us, but something worse—boyishness. And this condition is all the more serious because we possess the authority of old age, together with the follies of boyhood, yea, even the follies of infancy. Boys fear trifles, children fear shadows, we fear both.
I have all sorts of memories of moments that were supposed be great achievements, usually arranged to give a sense that a profound transition was taking place. There were graduations, and concerts, and award ceremonies, and weddings, and christenings, and we were always assured that they were signs of our growing up, that we had finally made something of ourselves, that we should be so deeply proud of taking life by the horns.
I never got to put on a toga for the first time, but I do recall feeling like I was king of the world at my Catholic Confirmation. I had a really classy dark blue three-piece suit, and everyone told me I was now a man.
I do indeed still cherish such things, but I also see, in a bittersweet sort of way, that we are easily tempted to pay more attention to the external trappings than to any internal changes of character. I went through many of these motions, even as I wasn’t really becoming any better or wiser. Wearing a big man’s clothes won’t make me a big man.
My thinking will have to change, not just my worldly status or position; the fancy appearances cannot cover for the deeper reality. The love of wisdom and virtue are the greatest achievements of the soul, the qualities that make us real “men”, since they perfect our very humanity. A man is never a man because he swaggers, or rages, or curses, or conquers anyone other than himself.
A sort of shallow childishness, rather distinct from the innocence of being a child, can stay with us far longer than it rightly should. It is completely normal for the child to be ignorant, or driven by his passions, or confused by the meaning of the world, because he is not yet able to know any better. I, on the other hand, should already know far better.
Perhaps most of all, the childish side of me is constantly afraid. I might not be willing to openly admit it, but I am regularly terrified of petty and imaginary things. The fear of pain, loss, loneliness, failure, and shame will gnaw at me. Above everything else, the fear of death paralyzes me.
Maturity would tell me that none of these things are really threats, since none of these things have any power over my own judgments, unless I freely permit them to do so. Here is the catching up I need to do, here is the growing up I need to do.
Written in 3/2012
No comments:
Post a Comment