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Love or Money
We all know that money can't buy happiness. Or do we? Usually after
addressing an especially affluent audience I feel as if I've just
encountered an ocean of human despair. When I'm asked to offer one-on-one
counseling, the stories I hear confirm this impression.
It's not that the well-to-do have a monopoly on teen suicides, drug use,
family break-up, or hidden alcoholism and domestic abuse. But there's a
jarring contrast between the glitter of success and the ugliness that often
hides beneath the flashy appearance of prosperity.
We're always in danger of ending up possessed by our possessions. When this
happens, we lose our dignity as human beings and become mere tools for
wealth creation. Inevitably, we'll treat other people as tools too.
Strangers to our own humanity, we'll find ourselves adrift just when we
thought the good life was within our grasp.
The bottom line to the trophies we seek as emblems of our success-a house we
own, cars, a stylish wardrobe, exotic vacations, good colleges for the kids,
or maybe a fast social life at fashionable spots for eating and
entertainment-is always money. And the truth is that money and happiness are
incompatible.
Pope John Paul II has spoken out eloquently against what he called "the
culture of death," which is the poisonous fruit of such materialism: "The
values of being are replaced by those of having. The only goal that counts
is the pursuit of one's own material well-being..." The first to be harmed
by this are women, children, the sick, the elderly, the poor, and the weak.
Instead of loving them for who they are, we degrade them by measuring their
worth in terms of what they have, do, and produce.
But this culture of death doesn't injure just the poor; it's lethal for
those who are economically comfortable as well. If success is our main goal
for living, what happens when it eludes us? Having invested so much of our
time and even personal identity in our goal, can we bear to fall short? The
terrible secret is that our ambition for the good life may serve only to
doom us to self-hate, mental breakdown, and suicide.
How can we escape this trap? We can start by thinking hard about what we
value. Do we put our faith in money and the material signs of having made
it, or do we find our fulfillment in close relationships and a strong
purpose for living? If we recognize the traps of materialism, what are the
seductive distractions - the house, clothes, cars, and small luxuries of the
good life - that we need to be rid of? Boldness and honesty are better
guides than caution as we act to free ourselves to pursue our real goals.
Another thing we must look at is our underlying view of success, for it
determines much, if not most, of the goals we strive toward. Too often we
think that by trying to be the perfect parent or churchgoer we'll reach our
potential and contribute to other people's lives. By driving ourselves in
this way, however, we painstakingly prepare our own catastrophe. The
"perfect" mother can drive her children to rebellion (and herself crazy);
the "perfect" churchgoer can forget the purpose of his religion.
Henri Nouwen, who left a life of academic distinction at Yale to become part
of a community of disabled people, came to conclude: "We have been called
to be fruitful-not successful, not productive, not accomplished. Success
comes from strength, stress, and human effort. Fruitfulness comes from
vulnerability and the admission of our own weakness."
Too often we do our best to hide our weaknesses and failures from each other
by struggling to keep up a respectable front. Afraid of revealing our inner
unhappiness, we build walls around ourselves to block out others. Why do we
pass each other by, wrapped up in our own thoughts and fears? Perhaps it is
because we are afraid to be seen for who we are.
By and large, we need to admit that our lives are a series of squandered
opportunities. It's tempting to refuse to consider this shocking possibility
and to turn our mental gaze elsewhere. Yet we know we are empty. We suspect
that the kinds of success we strive for aren't worth that much anyway. Our
private lives don't express the joy and the love that we would like to think
they do. The promise of our childhood remains unfulfilled; wounds of the
past remain unhealed. We are scared of getting sick, of going crazy, of
dying.
Yet deep down we all know that life's deepest fulfillment comes from valuing
every human encounter, and showing love to everyone we meet, especially if
they are lonely, despairing, or beaten down. What excuse can there be for
not loving? As soon as we're free from our drive to earn, produce, and
achieve, we'll discover in every encounter the joy of finding someone to
love as we love our self. Such encounters do not vanish with time; they are
immortal, with lasting value.
Copyright © 2001 Johann Christoph Arnold, a pastor, counselor, and award-winning author, whose books on sexuality, marriage, raising children,
facing death, forgiving, and finding peace have sold over 300,000 copies in English and have been translated into 18 foreign languages. Excerpted from the book 'Escape Routes' by Johann Christoph Arnold. Read it free on his website.
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