And correction for all the rest
The more I think about it, the more I think that it's not power that is at the heart of our most serious and needless human tragedies. Though our thirst for power is at the heart of our most consequential failures of humanity.
It is not money. Though we have done plenty harm in the world in the name of our greed. Or our lust. Or envy. Or wrath. And they certainly have their part in all this.
It is not even our pride. Or any of our sins, for that matter. Though pride and sin and their wages center in most of the avoidable harm that we do to one another.
What sits on the heart of all of this. Is cynicism. Our unresolved discontent and disappointment. About these and every last feature of our human nature that figures largest in the mess that is the human race. Our disappointment in a world that cannot ever be as perfect or predictable or controllable as we wish it might be. And our failure to account for our own trespasses. Especially our own foolish pride.
But, more importantly, it is our failure to acknowledge our responsibility for the climate of fear we create that makes it so difficult to acknowledge our missteps. And our cynicism, borne of disappointment, around matters of responsibility, and our failures to facilitate honest conscience. Our own and with each other.
It is the cynicism that reflects that unresolved disappointment sitting on our hearts like an unwelcome friend who never seems to leave and who we would rather not face, if it can be at all be avoided.
And it is the ways that we talk around the consequences of that cynicism. And our responsibility for the consequences that flow from that lack of faith.
This is the heart of most preventable human tragedy.
Our sad, sad hearts.
Unwilling to let go. And to face the world as it is. And finally to appreciate humanity. For all its beauty. And failures. And everything in between.
And the ways that this cynicism leads us to choose fear over faith when it comes to matters of the heart. And be blind to its repercussions.
The wages of this pride and fear and cynicism are most certainly death.
But fortunate for us, it is a preventable death. Dependent only on our willingness to face our flawed humanity. Honestly. In other words, without fear.
Our own humanity, primarily. And our failures to humble ourselves in the face of those failings. And the ways they justify our consequent scarcity of understanding of everything else.
The wages of cynicism are a world more bleak and hopeless than need be. And that fact being true and further resting in our hearts, whether we choose to face that fact or not.
Perhaps something more decent. And honest. And everything that we value.
Perhaps therein lies hope for humanity, after all.
And correction for all the rest, in the meantime.
