I started college as a philosophy major. If I was to be ordained, it was recommended that I have a background in philosophy before studying theology. It did help me to learn to think more critically. However, one of the first courses I took in college was in theater arts. To my parent’s chagrin, I quickly opted to double-major and pursue degrees in both philosophy and theater.
That first theater course was a play reading course. It captured my attention like nothing had before. The plays of Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus, both French existentialists, introduced me to ideas I’d never considered. Does life have meaning? Or is it absurd?
I transferred from a rural college to Duquesne University in Pittsburgh. For reasons I don’t recall, I dropped the theater major. I continued in philosophy and added psychology. At Duquesne in the 1970s, both programs were rooted in existential phenomenology. While there was a bit of French existentialism, the focus was on German writers. I came to understand something of Martin Heidegger’s work (no one really understands him…but I picked up a few things!). Heidegger wrote that life’s meaning was most brilliant for us when we saw it against the backdrop of death’s finality. Even a twenty-year-old could understand that. From that point, I grew to understand that meaning is subjective and rooted in our freedom to create our own meaning in life. With that foundation, I’ve often thought about what it means to live in a meaningful way.
I’m no longer the 20-something who was wonder-struck by these philosophical perspectives. While there are days when I wish I had the stamina I had when I was 20, I appreciate the difference four decades of growth has brought me. I still ask questions about life’s meaning, but the context is far different today. Recognizing that I have a limited time to live, I want to be sure that the things I do are personally satisfying for me.
As I write this, I am preparing to complete a term of office as president of a non-profit organization. I know that with my leadership, the organization has moved from a chaotic place to a place where it could grow and do well. At the same time, others would like me to stay on the board and in the position I’ve held. I could stay another term, but I will not. I think the organization is worthwhile and has an important mission. But it’s not a mission which holds a real priority in my life when compared to other things. There are simply other things I find more fulfilling.
I remember earlier in life when a spiritual director said to me something like this: there are many good things one can do in life, but it doesn’t mean that you are called to do all of them. Do the things you are called to do. While it made sense to me, I struggled with that perspective when I was a younger man. I couldn’t tell the difference between things that appeared to be good and worthwhile from the things that were uniquely right for me. With age, distinguishing between the two has become much clearer to me.
I recognize that there are things that are good for me to do, which add to the quality of my life and sense of satisfaction in life. Things that fit both categories can be widely different from each other. It’s a good thing for me to take time each day to watch the hummingbirds at the feeder outside of the window of my study. They bring me joy. It’s an amazing thing to spend time observing the bees in our backyard beehive. Bees are incredible creatures with an order and way of living that’s awe-inspiring to me. It’s vital for me to sit for coffee or a happy hour drink with a friend and visit for an hour. It’s especially enriching when I share that time with a young person and listen to their life perspective because it renews my hope for the future. Yes, it’s also good to write as I’m doing now and to conduct research. I admit that I’ve not been doing enough of either. There are so many things I want to research and learn about. Feeding my curiosity is fulfilling. These are the things that give meaning to my life. They are very subjective. They reflect the person I am — which is the person I’ve always wanted to be.
Yes, there are times when boredom creeps in or when my solitude can feel like loneliness. Honestly, those times pass very quickly. I am aware that there is a limit to my time. That limit makes what I do today even more brilliant. Knowing that perhaps sometime soon I’ll sit with a 20-something individual and share something about meaning in life and the brilliant work of Martin Heidegger. 20-somethings should know that they are free to create their own meaning in life while we 60-somethings should relish living in ways that are meaningful to us.
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Very wise, Lou. Curiously, I’ve been thinking about the same strand of things lately. Must be from turning 71. our stories are similar in their roots–I started with philosophy before turning to theology, but my heart was with the phenomenologists, especially Merleau-Ponty. I don’t know, but I suspect part of my respect for them was that they weren’t just philosophers, they (many of them) were in the Resistance (not Heidegger, of course). This simple fact seems to me so very relevant spiritually these days. Thanks for the stimulus to think more seriously about what is meaningful to me.
Bill: Thanks for the comment. I think that part of what impressed me about some of the twentieth-century thinkers in phenomenology and existentialism was that they didn’t limit themselves to arm-chair philosophizing but sought to live well and with purpose. I think that lead some to work for the resistance. Those who did grasped that meaning in life had to be made. Lou