On the Orientation of the Soul

As Thursday night neared its end, I was still void of topics to write about for this week’s piece. As I began to admit defeat in the final hours of the night, I felt the need to turn and examine my bookshelf, where I found a book that had piqued my interest months ago, yet never picked up. I often feel as if something not of this world compels me to write, often because of instances like these. 

I don’t remember exactly how I came upon the book, but when I found a gently used copy of Gratitude: Reflections on what we owe to our country by William F. Buckley Jr. priced at little more than a dollar and a half on Amazon, I knew it was an investment I must make. 

Laying on my bed, booklight open and clipped onto the cover, its light shining down onto the second page of the introduction, I became immersed in a story that was certainly worth more than the $1.63 I had spent months ago. 

The book begins with a clear question: What does man owe God? Buckley answers this with Anatole France’s story of the juggling brother as a chief inspiration for his compendium of thought. Simultaneously inspired and paralyzed by the beautiful poetry, song, and instrumental talent of his fellow brothers, a young monk, “driven by the mandate to serve,” ventured to Our Lady, and performed the only mildly impressive skill he knew how to do: juggling. The monk did so in the dark of night, afraid that his fellow brothers would judge him for performing such an absurd, offensive act for the Virgin Mary. It reminded me of the story of the poor widow that is told in the gospels, who, among the richer people, gave the only two coins she could afford to spare to the temple. 

In Luke 21: 1-4, Jesus answers Buckley’s question with ease: “All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in all she had to live on.” However much or little it is, we owe God all that we have, and ought to offer it to Him with the faith of the juggling brother and the hope of the poor widow. For that, God will receive the glory and we will receive eternal life. As Buckley concludes: “The act of propitiation: gratitude reified.”

So Buckley moves on, narrowing the question: What does a man owe to his country? His society? The people that raised him? 

On these questions, Buckley takes a little more time to answer. 

The answer to this is still grounded in the conclusion we reached earlier: that the two figures in the stories wanted to do what they did. They willed it out of the goodness of their own hearts and the earnestness of their own souls. 

This idea is an indispensable preface to the words Buckley continues to write. 

The transformational thinker he was, Mr. Buckley still ran to what he knew as a way to bring his most abstract arguments down to Earth. Humans are incarnate creatures whose minds thrive when surrounded by physical symbols of the ideas they hold high above their heads. In the mere 30 pages I have read, Buckley already makes multiple allusions to (if not direct arguments from the scope of) some of his most serious passions. Bill Buckley was fond of sailing. He discusses the evolution in sailing gadgets and his willingness to spend $200 on tools to “repay those who made [the amazing technology] possible.” Bill Buckley loved Switzerland. He invokes the conversations he had with Swiss citizens while he lived there to write and ski, ruminating on their relationship to their government and comparing it to the relationship we Americans have with ours. 

And oh, how Buckley revered Bach. 

He calls to mind the indirect relationship between his love for Bach and the number of musical paraphernalia he needed to listen to the 4-hour-long St. Matthew Passion. As his love grew, the amount of records, cassettes, and now discs he has needed to listen to The Passion over the years. 

To Buckley, the 15 or 20 dollars he had to “shell out” to pay for a copy of “the most searingly beautiful church music ever heard,” his highest words written of the composer in the 1985 piece Happy Birthday Bach. 

Yet, one thing Mr. Buckley seems to forget about in his pursuit of this question so far is the enjoyment his forebears get from watching us glorify their being and creation Bach, looking down on Bill’s ever-so-kind words or willing payment of 15 or 20 dollars for a disc at the store, did not value the money more than the orientation of Bill’s soul. Though Buckley may disagree, Bach certainly believed that his loyal fan paid his debt of gratitude in full with extra to spare. I believe that to Bach —much like God Himself— the actual repayment of the debt is not what matters the most, but that the love that we foster deep in our souls for such a creation is the most important aspect of gratitude. Bach likely met Bill at the pearly gates not because he used Brandenburg Concerto No.2 in F major for his intro to his show, or that he wished him a heartfelt 300th birthday in a nationally syndicated piece. What mattered to Bach the most was the warmth on Buckley’s face when a guest played the 28th and 29th Goldberg Variations on his show in 1989. 

God does not look down on creation and delight first in the passionate prayer He is met with, but initially by the reverence in His children’s souls that drive His creation to sing, pray, and whatnot.

Bach may be otherwise pleased by what Bill had done to help his work live on, but it is all expected that such efforts would follow such love. If a child gifts his mother with a homemade card for her birthday, it is not the card itself the mother finds is most endeared by, but the love her son had that compelled him to make it. If this becomes an annual occurrence, she comes to expect a card every year not because she prizes the card itself over all else, but because it serves as an incarnate reminder of the unbreakable bond between her and her son. Her son is convicted by his love for her, so it only follows logically that he would act on it sooner or later. It is not the card, or the promotion that our forebearers treasure the most, as they are simply signs of our gratitude, whereas the gratitude itself that we owe to them transcends the physical world and lives in our souls. 

We must be grateful in order to do a truly grateful act. In Mr. Buckley’s book, which contemplates the limits of national service to our country. The simple solution is obvious: mandate national service (military time, volunteerism, etc.) for all who wish for their full civil participation upon discharge. Yet how would this actually ensure the growth of national appreciation in our youth? It is certainly true that the actions can foster this sentiment, yet a true act of gratefulness is done out of the willingness of our soul, bettering both the giver and the receiver of the act. Mr. Buckley instead turns to the education system and the culture we surround our children with, making the argument that it is these institutions that we must begin teaching this love, for from it will proceed a reliable influx of national service that is driven by a genuine desire to give thanks to those who came before us. 

Love for a thing makes it both predictable and a pleasure to pay one’s debt to it. We do not enter Heaven having done grateful acts if our souls are not inclined to it, or further, actively resenting it. Faith without works is dead, but works without faith are eventually pointless. One can attend church without belief. It is not the action that validates the result, but the orientation of the will that lies behind it.

The purpose of life is to come to love God, as it is what He treasures most. One cannot enter Heaven begrudgingly, but with an open soul that has fostered a willing heart on Earth. The juggling brother did not please the Blessed Mother with his “muscular gyrations designed to capture the momentary interest of six-year-olds,” but with his devotion that inspired him to perform his greatest act for her. It was not the two coins of the poor widow that Jesus was delighted by, but her love for Him that drove her to drop her money in. 

So, what do we owe to our country? I believe the answer is simple, and not much different from the answer previously arrived at: We simply owe all we have. Those who collect garbage off the side of our streets must do so with the greatest love for the generations that invented the trucks they drive and the commitment to the generations of sanitary workers they will teach and employees whose jobs they indirectly improve. Those who make our nation's laws must do so with the highest level of reverence for the men who created the structure they operate within today, and pledge fealty to the legislators in succession. 

Mr. Buckley observes this necessity acutely, dismissing any idea of effort without love as a recipe for resentment and eventual disaster. 

With this, I leave you to ponder the words of St. Paul in his letter to the Corinthians, chapter 16, verses 13-14: 

“Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong. Let all that you do be done in love.”