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O'Malley's Best A Man with an Evil Spirit At the moment, I'm teaching my AP English seniors "Death of a Salesman." In it, Willy Loman, one of the true tragic heroes, has bought the whole American Dream, devoured it without question or hesitation (and in turn been devoured by it)-just as Arthur Miller supposes most of his audiences have. Willy thinks the invincible key to success is to be well-liked. And, exactly like Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, River Phoenix and a whole host of others who bought the same lethal pipe dream, Willy killed himself. There's no better test of a philosophy of life than the peace and joy of those who espouse it. Willy Loman's false hope about the power of being well-liked was challenged by another moral guru, Francis Albert Sinatra, who said, "You show me a man with no enemies, and I'll show you a coward." Yet which of us doesn't shudder at the idea of having enemies-or even at someone who holds us in mild disapproval? I suspect most of us lean far closer to Willy Loman's idea of happiness-the good ol' American Dream. Among the many aphorisms papering my classroom, one says, "Q: Who really wants the approval of petty people? A: Most of us." Each of us can't help but be torn between two fiercely demanding polarities. On the one hand, the yearning to "be someone," not negligible, important, valuable, not a mere puff of dust in endless time. But on the opposite hand, we also yearn "to belong," to be accepted, to enjoy the warmth, protection, and validation of the herd. You have to face two profound questions, especially at this time of your lives: "Who am I? " And: "Where do I fit into all this?" Trouble is, so very many people answer the second question before they face the first. Or, worse, they answer only the second question and never get to the first. "All of you out there, just tell me what I need to do to be accepted, to fit in, not to be alone, and I'll do it-no matter what the cost." And if the pitiful victims succeed at that, being well liked, having no enemies, they end up little more than walking responses to other people's expectations. As a result of eager accommodation to other's demands, there's no genuine, known-and-accepted self inside-just like Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, River Phoenix-those so-enviable suicides who reputedly "had it all." Which brings us by a somewhat circuitous entry to today's gospel. Have you ever noticed that the only people Jesus encounters who understand without hesitation who he really is and what he's here for are those supposedly possessed by the devil? Not the officials of his religion. Not even his hand-picked disciples. Only demoniacs-his enemies. "Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are-the Holy One of God!" And in another place, "What do you want with us, Son of God?" they shouted. "Have you come here to torture us before the appointed time?" It seems that your enemies are the ones who can reveal-better than anyone else--who you really, really are and where you really, really believe you fit it. Even if you have no enemies and all unremitting critics completely ignore you, their disregard gives you a better understanding of yourself. They declare by their silence that you aren't really doing much harm. Nor are you, of course, doing anything terribly beneficial either. When "enemies" do accuse you, they're either telling the truth or telling lies. Either way, you can learn from them. On the one hand, if they are telling the truth and--after listening to them honestly--you find they're rightly accusing you of something objectively good, you can get a real surge of rightful pride, no? For instance, if a guy asks an unattractive girl to dance, and all his pals snigger at him for "dancing with a dog," should he feel good or bad about being sneered at by morons who criticize him for being kind? But if they're telling the truth and accusing you of doing something which is objectively destructive-your so-called "enemies" can help you be better. For instance, if a prof gives you an F on what even you (in your most honest heart) know is a piece of swamp gas pumped out in ten minutes, that "enemy" is-really-your friend. On the other hand, when supposed enemies lie about you-especially when others believe them, that can also be beneficial. In the first place, you find out which of those who listen to the untrue criticism truly are your friends and who are "fair weather" friends. You can rejoice in the former and be well shed of the latter. And in the second place, you're being offered a chance to test whether your sense of self-worth depends on your honest assessment of yourself or you're enslaved to the fleeting evaluations of people to whom you are really less important than their own manicures or their pectoral definition. What would Dorothy have been without the antagonism of the Wicked Witch of the West? What a smug little lump Frodo would have been without Sauron. Forget the "coward" who is so bland as to have no enemies. Show me someone with no critics, and I'll show you someone deadly dull.
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Copyright © 2008, McQuaid Jesuit |
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