In the introduction to The Road to Character, Brooks notes that the lives of each of the people he profiles within the book have a similar trajectory. He calls it the U-Curve. He writes, "They had to go down to go up. They had to descend into the valley of humility to climb to the heights of character."
True character development seems impossible without this valley of humility. Brooks quotes Kierkegaard: "Only the one who descends into the underworld rescues the beloved." The self-emptying that takes place in the valley enables us to be of use when we climb back out, to rescue the beloved. Brooks calls this process "quieting the self." I like that metaphor. We become less through humility and then are able to exemplify the virtues only available through humility. We block out the internal noise telling us that we're great or this suffering isn't worth it or no one understands us or whatever junk is being piped into our brains and we are finally free to experience calm and tranquility. Moreover, we are finally free to actually provide purposeful aid to those around us who suffer and need to learn how to suffer. Tim Keller, in Counterfeit Gods, asserts that "people who have never suffered in life have less empathy for others, little knowledge of their own shortcomings and limitations, no endurance in the face of hardship, and unrealistic expectations for life." These valleys of humility are schools for obedience to God and usefulness to men.
Brooks argues, and I mostly agree here, that we've "left this moral tradition behind. Over the last several decades, we've lost this language, this way of organizing life. We're not bad. But we're morally inarticulate. We're not more selfish or venal than people in other times, but we've lost the understanding of how character is built." I would quibble with the claim that "we're not bad." We are. We're awful. But I do think he is right that for most of us this transition has been unintentional or unwitting. We did not intend to create a culture that fears precisely the valleys of humility that allow us to be men and women of deep character. We did not intend to make it the goal of our lives to obviate suffering. We did not intend to create a culture of narcissistic, spoiled know-nothings. But, here we are.
A few months ago I wrote that one of my goals for the new year was to fail more. This is what I mean. I want to experience these valleys and embrace them. Not because they are pleasant or easy, but because they are not. I took a group of kids backpacking a couple of weeks ago. It is always illuminating to me to put kids in that position and see how they do. You can tell the ones who have experienced suffering and embraced it and those who shy away every time something gets difficult.
We confuse ourselves easily on this score, too. I was talking with one of the kids who embraced suffering on the trip about this and we decided that there is a basic deceit at work in these situations: the people at the back of the pack are convinced that they are suffering more than the people at the front. This might be true, but it is not logically necessary. Take me, a 32 year-old suburban dad who has done virtually no cardio for the past eight months due to plantar fasciitis. Yet, I was slaying those kids who work out three hours a day. I don't say this to toot my own horn, but to point out that the ability to suffer can make up for all other sorts of defects. I am overweight and out-of-shape, but I don't mind the feeling of screaming lungs and burning quads. I like it, actually. It invigorates me and makes me feel alive.
And I know this because I have trained myself to know it. I have walked into those physical valleys time and again and kept going. There is something wonderfully democratic about this. Are there variances in talent? Of course. But, for those willing to put their heads down, grit their teeth, and quiet the self, a lot of ground can be made up. Our world tells us we can shortcut the valley and go straight to the mountaintop. Our world is a liar.
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