The True Path to Happiness

This summer we’ve had the joy and excitement of having our kids and grandkids spend time with us up at the lake.  It’s a wonderful blessing to spend time with our children and their families.  Even little squabbles between siblings can be amusing to us grandparents, if not to their exasperated moms and dads.  Watching our adult children discipline their kids is a reminder that parenting is hard and often thankless work.  But as a grandparent it is easier to see the beauty and design of God’s plan for humanity.  We come into this world undisciplined, self-centered, and ungrateful for all that we take for granted.   Two year olds can be veritable tyrants, wanting everything they see, whether it’s good for them or not.  It takes a lifetime to outgrow these tendencies and it would be impossible if not for the love and patience of parents who love us enough to show us the path to happiness. 

Even as adults, despite a lifetime of experience, we all too often think that our happiness is derived from getting what we want.  While it’s true that momentary satisfaction is briefly enjoyable, it is also fleeting, and leaves us yearning for the next thing.  Ancient philosophers like Socrates, Plato and Aristotle believed that true happiness could only be attained by acquiring virtue.  However, the achievement of such an ideal is paradoxical, in the sense that it often requires forgoing the immediate satisfaction of our desires.  Sunday’s second reading points out the importance of discipline:

“At the time, all discipline seems a cause not for joy but for pain, yet later it brings the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who are trained by it.”  (Hebrews 12:7)  

The pain of discipline is just as real for parents as it is for the children being chastised.  In the moment, it all seems futile and frustrating, but over time bad habits are routed out and replaced by temperance, charity, and self-control.

Of course none of us will ever achieve perfection, and there will frequently be lapses in judgment, resulting in misguided words and actions.  Hopefully, the damage we inflict will be minimal, and forgiven by those whom we injure, most often the very people we love the most.  This weekend, Rose and I celebrate our 45^th wedding anniversary and I shudder to think about the many times I’ve failed her in my lack of self-control, or self-centered pride.  Too many times, I’ve given more thought to how I feel or what I thought I needed, rather than her feelings, or her needs.  This is the kind of thinking that leads to anguish and self-pity rather than empathy and understanding.  The truth is, love requires us to make a gift of ourselves by putting the needs of others ahead of our foolish pride.  This is the great paradox of happiness:  when we sacrifice ourselves, we are more likely to find happiness, than when we grasp at everything we think we deserve.  Our greatest concern should not be for our own happiness, but for the inherent dignity and needs of others.  When we succeed in living this worldview, we discover happiness.

Fortunately, it’s never too late to learn this truth about life.  Today’s gospel reminds us that, “some who are last will be first, and some are first who will be last.” (Luke 13:30)   In C.S. Lewis’s wonderful little book, The Great Divorce, a parable about a bus ride to heaven, many of the self-important passengers are surprised to discover that one of the most esteemed people in heaven is a lowly housewife who sacrificed daily to raise and care for her children.  Pride is one of the most insidious sins we can commit because it prevents us from seeing the truth about ourselves.  Perhaps that’s why Jesus said, “Blessed are the meek …”   This runs contrary to modern thought which advocates assertiveness and the absolute right to pursue personal happiness, even if it means violating marriage vows, abandoning your children (unborn and otherwise), and ‘taking what is rightfully yours.’

Getting back to rearing children, the most important lessons are taught, not by words but by actions.  Children will most likely act like their parents because they see and hear everything.  I call our grandchildren ‘sponge-brains’ for this reason.  Perhaps this is why God became human, not merely to talk to us, but to demonstrate what it means to lead a virtuous life.  If we truly love our children, can we do any less?