“I do not understand; I pause; I examine”

Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592) has been recognized as one of the most significant philosophers of the 16th century. Born into a privileged family and raised during the period of the French Renaissance, he was educated in a private boarding school where all his lessons were taught in Latin. Because of his family’s great wealth, he was free to devote the first half of his life to jobs serving the public sector; including volunteering as a legal counselor, advisor to King Charles IX and mayor of the town of Bordeaux.

In 1571, at the age of 38, he retired from public life to his estate, where he isolated himself from all social and family affairs so that he could dedicate his time to reading, meditating, and writing. It was in his castle’s round library room – which contained more than 1,500 books – where Montaigne probed his mind and produced two highly influential books titled simply Essays; which he published in 1580. Montaigne wrote that “I am myself the matter of my book“, and his stated goal was to describe humans, and especially himself, with utter frankness.

Some of the key topics Montaigne explored in his various essays include:

• Mankind’s dangerously inflated claims to knowledge and certainty
• The assertion that there is no greater achievement than the ability to accept one’s limitations
• The problem of trying to locate truth in commonly accepted ideas that are false or unexamined – especially since many things we held yesterday as articles of faith today we know as fables.
• The importance of freeing ourselves from outside influences, customs and opinions
• His belief that the best path to understanding truth is by a careful exploration of one’s own body-and-mind.

Montaigne believed that the self, even with all its imperfections, was the best possible place to begin the search for truth, even though our identities can’t be defined as a stable thing because it is always changing. The most obvious example to him was the struggle of living with the infirmities of a human body. “Our bodies smell, ache, sag, pulse, throb and age regardless of the best desires of our mind“. It is only in acceptance of these traits that we can remain faithful to the truth of one’s being.

Montaigne isolated himself while writing his Essays but maintained the importance of maintaining contact with the outside world of other people and events because one can learn much that is useful from others. He described human beings as having a front room, facing the exterior street, where they meet and interact with others, but also with a back room where they are able to retreat back into their interior private self to reflect upon the vagaries of human experience and consider how it impacts their intimate identity.

Montaigne was refreshingly different from other philosophers and academics of his day who believed that their advanced powers of reason were a divine gift that gave them mastery over the world and a happiness that was denied to lesser educated creatures. He mocked those philosophers who were proud of their big brains and his writings come across as wise and intelligent – but also as modest and eager to debunk the pretensions of learning.

He wrote of his fellow academics and philosophers: “On our highest thrones in the world we are seated, still, on our arses” and, “…in practice, thousands of little women in their villages have lived more gentle, more equable and more constant lives than us.

He mocked books that were difficult to read. He found Plato boring and just wanted to have fun with books. “I’m not prepared to bash my brains out for anything, not even for learning’s sake – however precious it may be. If one book tires me, I just take up another“.

[note: I must admit that this sentiment makes me feel somewhat better about my decision to hold off reading the notorious difficult novel Ulysses by Irish writer James Joyce].

Montaigne was honest about the limitations and usefulness of his own intellect and attacked his prestigious academic friends for studying difficult things that were not useful to our lives.

“Difficulty is a coin which the learned conjure with so as not to reveal the vanity of their studies. Intellectuals would prefer you to study other people’s books way before we study our own minds. If man were wise, he would gauge the true worth of anything by its usefulness and appropriateness to his life”

I can’t help but wonder if Montaigne’s admiration for the working class – and life’s simple things – stemmed from the decision his humanist father made to leave him for three years when he was a small boy in the sole care of a peasant family in their town, in order to “draw the boy close to the people, and to the life conditions of the people, who need our help“.

Whatever the reason for his modest and humble personality, Montaigne comes across as one of the world’s first examples of a tolerant mind; a breath of fresh air in the cloistered and snobbish corridors of 16th century academia. He became an inspiration and encouragement to all those who felt put-upon and patronized by the arrogance of self-proclaimed clever people.

Montaigne tells us that each one of us is richer than we think. We may all arrive at wise ideas if we cease to think of ourselves as unsuited to the task just because we haven’t been classically trained or happen to lead an ordinary life.

The inscription Montagne had placed on the crown of the book shelf in his library was “I do not understand; I pause; I examine“. He had the inscription placed there to remind him of the limitations of his own knowledge and to caution him about the dangers that can result when one hastily forms opinions without careful consideration of all the facts.

Too many people today, especially since the advent of social media – which allows anybody to pass themselves off as experts – form their beliefs by adopting commonly accepted ideas or by making broad generalizations. Outside influences and political talking points trigger knee-jerk reactions from those who fail to take the time to study all sides of a topic – or to consider what is the truth and what is morally just.

It would be refreshing if more of us today, before forming our opinions, would like Montaigne, acknowledge the limitations of our knowledge, admit that we don’t fully understand a topic and then take time to examine all aspects of the issues in question using qualified experts in the field as our guides.

The danger of operating a society with uninformed or half-informed subjects was identified as early as the 2nd century by the Roman writer Publilius Syrus who said that it is “Better to be ignorant of a matter than to half know it“.

Today there are so many competing sources of information, where anyone with a computer can offer their uninformed opinions. Few people check the credentials of writers or the authenticity of the facts, and foreign actors can easily spread misinformation along via unregulated social networks.

The next time we are asked to form an opinion or make a decision about subjects we do not fully understand, we would do well to follow the sage advice of Montaigne: Do not let somebody else speak for you and do not fall prey to the pressures of biased outside influences. Instead take a moment to pause, study all sides of the issue, consult qualified experts and sources, and endeavor to reach true understanding.

If you can summon the conviction and discipline to do this, then you will be able to take solace knowing that even though you can not govern external events, you at least govern yourself.

The Prayers of All Good People are Good

As the days lengthen and Spring approaches here in the Northeast, my thoughts customarily turn to matters of the spirit. It is my Catholic upbringing and roots that have instilled in me the impulse to observe the yearly ritual of Lent – a period of 40 days that begins with Ash Wednesday and ends with the celebration of Easter Sunday. It is done in remembrance of the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert prior to beginning his public life, as well as to give thanks and praise for the great sacrifice that followers believe Jesus made to reconcile us with God.

Lent is meant to be a time of repentance and self-examination which is marked by prayer, almsgiving, and fasting (from foods and festivities). It asks Christians to contemplate eternity, examine all areas of their life and to focus on activities that will repair injustices in our personal relationships with God, with ourselves, and with our neighbors.

Historically, Lent has been an important time in the religious calendar for Catholic and other Christian denominations, but the number of souls observing the practices of Lent has gradually been diminishing for years. It is difficult to convince people of the virtues of self-denial or making amends for past mistakes in today’s modern culture of instant gratification – one in which acknowledging faults is seen as weakness. Most Christian denominations prefer to focus on the glory of the Resurrection while downplaying the message of sorrow and grief that is represented by the Cross.

For many, observing Lent is uncomfortable because it smacks of religious duty and shame. They point out that Jesus himself never established the tradition of Lent as a commandment for his followers to observe and that he actually chastised the religious leaders of his day because “They crush people with unbearable religious demands and never lift a finger to ease the burden”.

How individuals decide to worship is a matter between them and God, but for me I choose to observe the practices of Lent because they force me to take a hard look at my life and reflect on those things that are stopping me from achieving a greater awareness and intimacy with the Creator. Lent also helps me gain the spiritual discipline I need to overcome bad habits that are preventing me from being at greater peace with myself and my neighbors.

Besides the spiritual benefits, Lent also helps to nurture the important life skills of patience and self-sacrifice. Learning how to delay our impulses for immediate pleasure in favor of long-term goal achievement is a useful skill required for healthy human growth. Being able to control our impulses gives way to the formation of new brain pathways and new habit formation.

Psychological studies show that people who are able to delay their desires for possessions and outcomes are much better adjusted and happier in life. The ability to override the impulse to seek instant pleasure needs to be nurtured in children so that they learn at an early age that impulses will pass, but long term goals are unlikely to be achieved without the ability to sacrifice short-term desires.

The famous “Marshmallow experiment” conducted by psychologist Walter Mischel in 1972 at Stanford University found that young children who were able to wait longer for their preferred rewards (an extra marshmallow) tended to have better life outcomes, as measured by school test scores, educational attainment, body mass index and other life measures.

I can’t help but think that the Lenten habits of sacrifice and self-denial that I have practiced over the years has had a hand in the successful achievement of “non-spiritual” goals throughout my life. The decisions I made to focus on studies rather than parties in College, to live a modest lifestyle, to exercise and watch what I eat, reaped benefits in my later life; when they enabled me to secure a good job, provide for my family, retire early and remain healthy enough in my old age to play with my active grandchildren.

While I advocate the virtues of the Catholic tradition of Lent, I want to make it clear that I believe no single religion can lay claim to the mystery of God. There are many paths to the Divine and we run the risk of becoming self-righteous and arrogant when we start to believe that our practices are the only way to God.

This is beautifully illustrated in a passage from the classic novel My Antonia by Willa Cather. The novel tells the story of an orphaned boy living in 19th century Nebraska, Jim Burden, and a newly arrived family of Bohemian immigrants, the Shimerda’s, who are struggling to make a living farming the harsh but fertile prairie.

The scene is Christmas, and Mr. Shimerda, the Bohemian neighbor, who is having a hard time keeping his family warm and fed (and understands little English) comes to visit Jim Burden and his grandparents at their home. Here’s what the narrator Jim tells the readers:

“As it grew dark, I asked whether I might light the Christmas tree […]. When the candle-ends sent up their conical yellow flames, all the colored figures from Austria stood out clear and full of meaning against the green boughs. Mr. Shimerda rose, crossed himself, and quietly knelt down before the tree, his head sunk forward. His long body formed a letter ‘S.’ I saw grandmother look apprehensively at grandfather. He was rather narrow in religious matters, and sometimes spoke out and hurt people’s feelings. There had been nothing strange about the tree before, but now, with someone kneeling before it—images, candles… Grandfather merely put his finger-tips to his brow and bowed his venerable head, thus Protestantizing the atmosphere[. . . .]

At nine o’clock Mr. Shimerda lighted one of our lanterns and put on his overcoat and fur collar. He stood in the little entry hall, the lantern and his fur cap under his arm, shaking hands with us. When he took grandmother’s hand, he bent over it as he always did, and said slowly, ‘Good wo-man!’ He made the sign of the cross over me, put on his cap and went off in the dark. As we turned back to the sitting-room, grandfather looked at me searchingly. ‘The prayers of all good people are good,’ he said quietly.”

Mr. Shimerda’s visit on Christmas Day disrupts the religious harmony the Burden family typically feels in their home. They feel an uncomfortable undercurrent of blasphemy occurring due to the gap in beliefs between the different religions. The Shimerdas came from a western region of the Czech Republic with a large Catholic population while the Burdens were observant Protestants. By his action of kneeling in front of the Burdens purely symbolic Christmas decoration, Mr. Shimerda transforms the tree into an explicitly religious icon.

While the Burdens may not identify, or even agree, with this act of religious display in their house, Mr. Burden decides to tolerate it quietly. “The prayers of all good people are good,” he remarks as Mr. Shimerda vanishes into the Christmas night. It is a noble sentiment and a triumph of religious tolerance on the frontier prairie.

It becomes a moment of divine insight in an era when Protestants and Catholics would not even enter each other’s churches or let their children intermarry. Even Catholics of different ethnicities often didn’t mix, as can be seen in towns even today that feature multiple large churches, only blocks from one another, that cater to different ethnicities (French, Polish, German, Lithuanian, etc.).

It is a good lesson for us to remember, even in this day and age, when so many people have left organized religions to pursue their own personal ideals of spirituality. It is important for us to move beyond our religious silos and be open to all the good people we encounter who may not share our religious heritage but still want to pray for us, hold us in the light, or send us good thoughts or healing energy. All these things can be comforting and helpful when they come from well-intentioned, sincere people with good hearts.

In this season of new life and growth may you bask in the prayers of all good people and no matter what your religious persuasion or beliefs are, may it always be said of you that your prayers are good!

“The harder the life, the finer the person”

Wilfred Thesinger was a British explorer, photographer and travel writer who wrote several books in the 1950’s and 60’s about his experience living with the desert peoples of Arabia. He was once interviewed by the famous naturalist David Attenborough, who asked him if he thought the hardship and suffering of the desert peoples instilled in them a sense of nobility.

Thesiger responded:

“I think the harder the life, the finer the person, yes, and I certainly felt this way about the Bedu [desert peoples]. When I went there, I felt that the difficulty was going to be living up physically to the hardships of their life. But, on the contrary, it was the difficulty of meeting their high standards: their generosity, their patience, their loyalty, their courage and all these things. And they had a quality of nobility. In the desert I found a freedom unattainable in civilization; a life unhampered by possessions’…. I shall always remember how I was humbled by those illiterate herdsmen who possessed, in so much greater measure than I, generosity and courage, endurance, patience and lighthearted gallantry.”

Salim bin Ghabaisha, seated on a camel

Thesinger’s observation is something that I too have noticed during my life’s interactions with other people. In general, it seems that those who come from humble beginnings and who suffer hardships while growing up, have the personal qualities that I have come to admire most – qualities of self-reliance, resilience, gratitude, empathy and humility.

My mother’s parents were poor immigrant farmers who moved from Canada to the United States in the early 1900’s. She was the seventh of eight children and she had to quit school after the 8th grade so that she could help out with the farm work. I remember her telling stories about hard times when her Mother would not eat because there wasn’t enough food to go around and how they would dig through the winter snow under the Apple trees to see if there might be some frozen apples left on the ground that they could eat.

Yet my mother became a remarkable woman with a big heart that was full of life, love, and intelligence. I often wonder how far she would have gone and how different her life would have been if she were allowed to finish her education and capitalize on all her gifts. Like her mother, she too raised a family of eight children, experiencing hardship at times without complaint; instead thanking God every day for a loving husband, healthy children, food on the table and a roof over their heads.

I consider it a blessing that I came from this large lower middle-class family. My father had to work two jobs at times to make ends meet and so my mother could stay home with the kids. I worked from the time I was 10 in various part time jobs and learned from an early age the value of a work ethic and delayed gratification. I was content with the used clothes and toys that were handed down to me by my brothers and sisters.

I have the sense that children of privilege often grow up with qualities that are less admirable – qualities like arrogance, self-importance, selfishness, pride and feelings of entitlement. It must be a particularly difficult task for powerful and wealthy parents to raise happy and well-adjusted children and I give credit to wealthy parents like Bill and Melinda Gates, who came from humble beginnings, made it on their own, and have decided to leave their considerable fortune to their charitable foundation rather than their children.

Even though my upbringing was poor in material things, it was rich with love and affection. My parents treated each of their children with dignity and respect. Some children are not so fortunate and are raised under conditions where they are not loved, respected or treated with dignity. Instead they are treated like property whose lives the parents or caretakers can control and abuse as they see fit. Being raised under these conditions must be very difficult and I wonder how it is possible to overcome that type of hardship and turn into a fine person.

Many do not overcome it – but a remarkable few somehow find a way to use their negative childhood experiences as a catalyst for building a positive new life. There are precious people in my life who were physically and verbally abused as children and were raised in a controlling environment that did not nourish their individuality or self-esteem. Yet somehow, through the grace of God, they escaped their family dysfunction and developed into generous, loving, supportive, and kind people.

When I ask them how they managed such a miraculous feat they tell me about a grandmother; or an aunt; or a sibling; or a teacher that was a light to them in the darkness of their life and who threw them a lifeline at those times when they needed it most. These good people helped them to understand that they could be better than their parents and instilled in them the determination to succeed despite their difficult childhood.

Reflecting on this makes me realize that each of us has opportunities in our life to be a beacon of light to someone going through hard times and we ought to be on the lookout for those going through hardship that need us to throw them a lifeline. If we all did that who knows how many more children could overcome their broken families and go on to lead successful lives.

So, if you have had a hard life, be grateful – that probably means you are a fine person. And if you have led a life of privilege, try to use whatever power and influence you have collected to make life a little better for those that are less fortunate. You just might, like Wilfred Helsiger, discover a freedom that is unobtainable when life is focused only on the self and material possessions.