I convene a little group which delights in conversations broadly focused on what it means to live life contemplatively. It is a wonderful group because of a wide age range- folks literally coming from all parts of the country and with varied backgrounds, both vocationally and religious traditions. The group works well because everyone is respected. And when someone talks, the others are willing listeners. The experiences shared are so valuable and help us learn how to live our lives in better, deeper ways.
Recently, we had the opportunity to share our thoughts about one sentence from the work of the late Notre Dame theologian and priest, John Dunne. I have known Dunne for years through his writing. I never met him, but very much appreciate the points and perspectives he always brings to any conversation.
The line we focused on observes, “If I must die someday, what must I do to satisfy my desire to live?” When you have an amazing group of people thinking about a line such as this one, it is fascinating how many different ways we can look at it and learn from it. One person wanted to change the beginning part of the sentence to the affirmation, “When I die someday…” That makes perfect sense to me, since I am fairly certain of my own death someday. It really is not a matter of if, but when. The cool part is how those of us who are much older sense the reality of that in a way college student do not. For them, death is more hypothetical.
Another person focused on the verb in the sentence, namely “do. She was not sure she liked the idea of focusing on “doing” rather than “being.” That is a good point. It makes me aware of how often---especially in our American culture---people only matter if they can do. If you are too old or ill, then you don’t matter. You might not even count as a person. It is easy to write off some people like that as useless! Indeed, what use is someone like that? Are we only as good as we can do?
Americans tend to be doers. We do good. We hope to do well. Usually, when we do well, we typically mean someone got financially rich. Mother (now Saint) Teresa did good, but hardly did well on this score. If money is the measure of a life lived well, then I have been a notch above a failure. Working in the field of religion is not a pathway to financial success. Having said that, however, I acknowledge my desire for life---the title of this piece---has not been financial.
The part of the sentence which intrigued me was the phrase toward the end, namely, “desire for life.” John Dunne asks, what do I do to satisfy my desire for life? That question sent me down a spiral of more questions. I think I know what desire is. I can tell you all the things I desire. But I am not sure I ever thought about my desire for life. One person in our little group asked me whether my desire for life comes in the face of fearing death? Fair enough, I thought. I am certainly not eager to die, but I am not sure I fear it. As I thought more, I realized the idea of desire for life is a positive---not negative---aspect for me.
Quickly my mind realized I made a distinction between life---which comes rather naturally---and desire for life. I assume I will wake up in the morning and life goes one. Life can unfold routinely and I never give it a thought. But if I practice spiritual discipline, for example, I become much more aware of my life. It is at this level that I tap into my desire---desire for life.
I think desire for life sets me up for some intentionality. Usually, we use a preposition with the idea of desire---we have desire “for” something or someone. Along with being intentional, desire seems to be directional. It is desire in a direction---for this or that. Thinking more deeply into the matter, I realized desire for life implicates quality. Desire for life means I want a quality---a depth, richness or even profundity---in my life. It is quality more than quantity. I know the quantity of days of life left for me is finite. Someday I will die. But qualitatively, there is much unknown. It can be good or not good.
Perhaps I can sum up my desire for life to mean something like a desire for a worthy life. What makes a worthy life? For me it is a life of love, service and meaning. All three words are loaded. Love implies engagement and involvement. It implicates passion and compassion. In this sense life vibrates and has a dynamic quality. Service means life is not just about me and my own pleasures. Service is transcending my own ego and lesser desires. Service is always pro nobis---for the other.
Finally, meaning is what I desire for life. Meaning suggests my life matters and it will make a difference. Does who I am count and does what I did add up to something special? I hope for the same thing for you. One person in our group talked about legacy. That makes sense. It all makes more sense with God in my life.
That’s how I understand my desire for life.
Those of us who have read theology or, perhaps, those who are people of faith and are old enough might well recognize this title as a reminder of the late Jewish philosopher and theologian, Martin Buber. I remember reading Buber’s book, I and Thou , when I was in college in the 1960s. It was already a famous book by then. I am not sure I fully understood it, but that would not be the last time I read it. It has been a while since I looked at the book. Buber came up in a conversation with a friend who asked if I had seen the recent article by David Brooks? I had not seen it, but when I was told about it, I knew I would quickly locate and read that piece. I very much like what Brooks decides to write about and what he contributes to societal conversation. I wish more people read him and took him seriously. Brooks’ article focused on the 2016 contentious election. He provocatively suggests, “Read Buber, Not the Polls!” I think Brooks puts
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