Purification of Ambition

Loving A Hidden God

PURIFICATION OF AMBITION

The world retains its hold on us, on all sides its charms decoy us. We like lots of money, we like splendid honors, we like power to scare others. We like all these things, but let's listen to the apostle: "We brought nothing into this world, neither can we take anything out" (1 Tim 6:7) Honor should be looking for you, not you for it. Sermon 39, 2.

It may seem strange to speak about the need to purify our earthly ambitions, but left unchecked they can be confining chains that prevent us from moving towards our eternal future. We must have an ambition to make our way to heaven, but until we achieve that goal there are a multitude of "ambitions" on earth that can come to dominate our lives. In scripture and in Augustine's works the dangerous form of such earthly ambitions (ambitio saeculi) is sometimes called the "Pride of Life". (Commentary on the Epistle of John, 2.13.1; cf. 1 John, 2: 15-16) Such malignant ambition is the immoderate desire to be important on earth and to be prepared to use any means to achieve that end.

There is nothing wrong in having ambition in this life. Indeed, anyone without some ambition quickly becomes an unmoving clod, satisfied to watch the passing scene without participating. They seem to have deadened one of the basic human drives, the drive to have meaning in our lives, to live a life of some importance. We want to be a "success" here on earth as well as in heaven, in time as well as eternity. The challenge is to not let the drive for earthly success get in the way of our journey towards heaven.

The possibility that this can happen is the reason why we must purify our earthly ambitions. It does not mean that we give up all ambition to do something of value here on earth; it just means that we put that ambition in its proper secondary place. It means to be ready and willing to "give up our job", "end our career", when the time comes. It means that while we are in the midst of our earthly career, our work in time, as noble as it may be, we do not grasp it so tightly that it never gives way to more important things, things like the will of God, the needs of those who depend on us, the needs of those we love. In all we accomplish in life we must hold before us the wisdom of Job:

Naked I came forth from my mother's womb, and naked I shall go back again.

Job, 1.21

It is natural for us to strive to do some worthwhile work on earth as long as we have the strength to do it. As creatures with creative imagination we are meant to use our God-given abilities to improve the world around us. We are meant to act for the good of the universe and the good of our neighbor. A healthy gifted human being who does nothing more than exist is a limited person at best. If their inactivity is the result of a selfish choice, they are guilty of the sin of laziness. To call them slothful is to do an injustice to the sloth. The sloth acts in accordance with nature; the human who imitates the sloth acts contrary to nature.

But too much earthly ambition is a dangerous thing. Completing a great work or achieving a noble career that meets all our expectations, we may then become complacent, not caring whether we are appreciated by others or even whether we are approved by God. We may come to believe that we have created (or at least merited) the wonderful powers which accomplished our great work. Our pleasure with our wonderful gifts may even cause us to grasp them jealously to our breast, refusing to share even a part of them with others. (Confessions, 10.39.64) When this happens, our "good works" (far from being a path to heaven) have become an obstacle, not because of what they are in themselves but because of what they have done to us.

What has been said about pursuing fame through great accomplishments applies also to seeking it through ruling others. Augustine believed that there was nothing wrong in accepting and even seeking positions of authority in society. Perhaps profiting from his own unexpected and unwanted ascent to the episcopate, he argued that those with the necessary talents had an obligation to seek higher office in order to serve the community. He told his students that they should not seek positions of authority if they were not yet mature but they should hasten to become mature so that they might take their proper place in governance. (On Order, 2.8.25)

To be a Christian does not forbid doing a bit of work for society. Prayer and meditation on eternal mysteries become profitable only when they are put into practice. (On the Work of Monks, 17) If we have the qualities that make for a good ruler, we must be careful not to "refuse the crown" too easily. Our apparent humility may have a negative effect on ourselves and on others. We may become proud of our detachment and others may begin to question the value of a supposedly Christian wisdom which has stolen one so qualified from their service. As Augustine wrote to Faustus:

Those who have the practical talent to govern, must for the public benefit consent to bear the burden and suffer the hardships of public life. If they do not "accept the crown", there is the chance that their choice of leisure to pursue wisdom would cause others to think less of such wisdom.

Reply to Faustus the Manichean, 22.58

As Augustine himself knew from personal experience, it is never easy to give up the peace of a cloistered life for a position of authority. He wept when chosen to become a priest at Hippo, realizing that the trial of "being in charge" is the final burden placed on the lives of good people who are striving for perfection. (Commentary on Psalm 106, 7) Those who (like Augustine) come from secular life into religion and then accept positions of authority must be esteemed, because

... The love that called them from a worldly life to a life devoted to religion is the same love that now has called them to undertake the task of benevolently governing within the Church.

Reply to Faustus the Manichean, 22.58.

But there are dangers in taking up positions of power in society. We may come to believe that to be a ruler on earth is an ultimate goal with nothing better worthy of desire. Put simply, in our desire to rule the earth, we may lose all interest in becoming a citizen of the "City of God". We may come to believe that the creators of the tower of Babel were right, that the way to reach heaven is by building "earthen towers of power". (City of God, 16.2-10) We may even come to believe that because we are in charge we are now better as human beings than those over whom we rule, forgetting that we are still fragile contingent creatures despite our temporary control over the life and death of others. (Sermon 313a, #4) We forget that every ascent on earth is followed by an inevitable descent. We delight in being on top; forgetting that the only safe way to get there is through humble steps. (Sermon 96, 3)

We may very well ask: "Why is it that we humans are so driven by earthly ambition, so passionate in trying to make a name for ourselves during our short stay on earth?"

I believe that our motives can be reduced to two:

1. we want to feel good about ourselves;

2. we want to be praised by others.

There is nothing inherently wrong in that first motive. Wanting to "feel good about ourselves" by "doing great things" can lead us to grand accomplishment. But, taken too far, our passion for doing can make us believe that we are not worth anything unless we can accomplish great things, unless we can do important work in a noble profession. The psychologist Becker sees this obsession with work as being the unfortunate side-effect of our pragmatic culture:

The proletariat demands the obsession of work in order to keep from going crazy. The daily madness of these jobs is a repeated vaccination against the madness of the asylum. Look at the joy and eagerness with which workers return from vacation to their compulsive routines! They plunge into their work with equanimity and lightheartedness because it drowns out something more ominous.

Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death (New York: Free Press, 1973), p.186.

The Christian faith fights this identification of value with doing by insisting that we are important not because of what we do but because of what we are: special reflections of the infinite good that is God. Faith also reminds us that as long as conscious life remains, there is always something noble that we can do. Everyone may not be capable of great works of intellect or imagination but everyone is able to love. And, as Augustine told his parish congregation, it is not what we know that makes us great, but what we love. (Sermon 313A, 2) Unfortunately in a world that seems to value "doing" over "being" it is sometimes hard to be convinced of this consoling truth.

I believe that the ability to value ourselves without recognition from others is a rare gift. Social animals that we are, most of us would like to have some affirmation, some praise, for what we have done. It would, of course, be very nice to have praise from God, someone who is infinitely good and who knows us intimately and who thus can praise us for what we are rather than for what we sometimes pretend to be. But the fact of the matter is that it is hard to hear praise from God just now. God is not present to most of us visibly or vocally in this life and when we think we are hearing his praising voice we are never quite sure that it is not ourselves praising ourselves. Thus, in the absence of a vision of God, we reach out to human beings, to friends, strangers, and even enemies for a bit of approbation. After all honey from whatever source is just as sweet.

This delight we experience from the praise of others becomes a problem when we begin to value the praise more than the good work that is the object of the praise. As Augustine observed, we like to hear the words "Well done! Well done!" and to be feared, if not loved, for our power and our deeds. We then may begin to rejoice more in the wonder of our "self" than in the wonder of having God-given gifts to perform such splendid deeds. We sometimes seek the pleasure of being feared and loved not because of God's gifts but so we can pretend to be gods ourselves. (Confessions, 10.36.59)

Like so many other things in life, praise is good or bad depending on our reaction to it. Augustine gives a somewhat crude analogy for situations when praise is indeed a good thing. He remarks:

What a belch is to the rumbling stomach, that's what praise is to the satisfied heart.

Sermon 255, 5

His point is that when the heart is full, it expresses its fullness joyfully in praise just as a healthy belch is sometimes the after-effects of a fine meal. If we receive praise from some who are truly moved by the decency of our lives, it is a good praise in that it reflects the fullness of their hearts, a fullness to which we have somehow contributed. (Letter 231,4)

But praise can also have a dark side. Sometimes others praise us for the wrong reasons, praising us ...

... for being a pleasant person who has no strong opinions about anything;

... for being a person of power who can bestow benefits if flattered and inflict punishments if criticized;

... for being someone who "goes with the flow" of society even though the direction is evil.

In such cases, the "belch" of praise is a gaseous indication of the emptiness of a heart that cannot appreciate true value.

The trouble with even such "wrong-headed" praise is that it can make our own heads swell, contributing to that "pride of life" which convinces us that we are indeed fine people, the salt of the earth, earthy angels just waiting for the call to the high court of heaven where we will receive our justly deserved eternal reward. Moreover, if in a fit of false humility, we announce to the world at large that we no longer want their praise, another danger arises. We may now expect praise from others because of our new status as a truly saintly person who has knowingly and freely taken a vow of indifference to praise. In short, we have become humble and are proud of it. As Augustine wryly observed:

Often, out of very contempt of glory, people derive an emptier glory. They glory in their disdain for glory.

Confessions, 10.38.63

It is all so silly. Whatever we have accomplished in this life, however many people we have frightened with our power, however many earthly goods we have accumulated, all is passing. We are all swept along on the river of time towards the eternal sea where, although people will continue to exist, all "things" will perish. (Sermon 119, 3) The movement is inexorable:

Yesterday will not return again. After yesterday, today; after today, tomorrow. All time and things of time pass away.

On the Good of Widowhood, 25

Common sense and experience should teach us that we should not take accomplishments or their absence too seriously. Great books go out of print and eventually disappear. Great inventions are quickly superseded by even greater discoveries. As Augustine reminds us in the midst of writing one of his "great works":

When all the boasting is over, what is any man but just another man? Every human honor should be of no great value. It is smoke that weighs nothing.

City of God, 5.17.

Indeed, every honor bestowed in this life is just rising smoke, becoming thinner and thinner as it disappears into the heavens (Commentary on Psalm 36/3, 14.).

The happiness that such fleeting honors bestow is as ephemeral as a sleeper's dream, a dream that seems real as we live out our time on earth but which disappears when we awake in eternity. (Commentary on Psalm 131, 8) We must purify our attachment to such dreams, enjoying our work and careers on earth, our accomplishments and the approbations they earn, our honors and praise, but ready and eager to let them go when the time comes for us to move on. If we do not, we will forever be denied the vision of God. Captivated by our times, we will have lost sight of eternity.