Disgruntled with the only world he knew, the unhappy young man hiked to the crest of a nearby mountain, turned one last time to gaze upon the lives he was determined to abandon, and resolved, then and there, to never look back.
Frustrated and tired, he’d had enough. The unknown wilderness surely had much more hope and change to offer him than the stifling, stagnant, backward community he was leaving behind.
Hours became miles and the unhappy young man grew weary. He paused by a large tree just long enough to relax and fall asleep.
He awoke from a sleep that seemed to last only minutes. “Wake up.” The unhappy young man sprang to his feet. “Calm yourself,” came an authoritative voice from the shadows. “I am your friend. I know what you are feeling. I know of the hope and change an unhappy young man like you is looking for.”
The Individual
In an instant, the unhappy young man was swept away to an unfamiliar place. “Where am I?” he asked curiously. “Your new home,” replied the authoritative voice. “New home?” the unhappy young man wondered. “Yes, your new home. A place more to your liking. A place where you will find the difference you seek,” the voice offered reassuringly.
“Does it have a name?” asked the unhappy young man. “Yes. Its name is Antinomia, the home to vast numbers of true individuals just like you,” the authoritative voice proclaimed proudly. “In Antinomia, you do what you desire. There are few rules because true individuals living in true freedom don’t need many rules. You are a true individual, aren’t you, my unhappy young man?” pressed the voice.
“Oh yes, I am,” the unhappy young man quickly declared.
“Very well. You will love it here. In Antinomia, you are a lone man in an exciting wilderness of your own making. The world is yours as you awake each morning. Perhaps you want to go fishing, or build a house, or perhaps you want to invent a cure for cancer. Or perhaps you’ll decide to simply stay in bed. The choices are yours to make, and all yours,” encouraged the guiding voice.
“Antinomia sounds wonderful!” exclaimed the young man.
“Your possibilities are unlimited. Everyone is the same here because everyone is different. The common denominator of Antinomia is the individual – individual desire is the basis for all we do and of who we are. Our liberty is to do what we desire. Everyone looks out for their own self-interest and, in doing so, your self-interest serves others. A man who knows how to build homes needs to eat, while another man has food but no home. This ‘invisible hand’ of self-interest is our strength,” insisted the authoritative voice.
“We marry who we want. We worship what we may. We view what we enjoy. We celebrate diversity,” proclaimed the authoritative voice. “Do you have any rules? Any proscriptions on behavior?” asked the unhappy young man. “Only one: do not hurt another human being,” the authoritative voice insisted. “Do what you will, just do not hurt your neighbor.”
“Fascinating! Tell me, what happens when what I enjoy causes pain – emotional or otherwise – for my neighbor?” questioned the young man. “What becomes the higher value: my personal desire or my neighbor’s pain?”
“Now, now,” cautioned the authoritative voice, “there is no need for such deep questions in Antinomia, let alone answers. We are not only diverse, we are tolerant. You will find, once you’ve been here with us for a while, that such dilemmas are few and far between.”
The unhappy young man was left to himself to take in his surroundings. He noticed that to his left was an old man begging for food. Everyone just passed him by. To his right he saw a tired-looking woman selling herself to men alongside a man selling apples and another man selling newspapers. “So this is what it looks like to place the individual at the center of society,” the unhappy young man thought to himself.
“Are you still here?” the unhappy young man called out. “Yes, I’m here,” said the authoritative voice. “What about love? Can I find love in Antinomia?” sighed the unhappy young man. “Love is whatever you want it to be,” replied the voice.
The answer caused the unhappy young man to pause. “I like that people seem to be doing what they desire, but they seem to do it without regard for each other. I see many transactions in the marketplace, but very few genuine social interactions. And I really like that everyone seems to be free to choose what they’ll do at any given time, but I can’t really see how the value of any choice is determined – it seems like all choices are equally valued,” he observed.
“That’s the beauty of Antinomia,” the authoritative voice replied confidently. “We’re all different and yet all the same. We have diversity amidst equality. No one person’s opinion is better than another yet everyone has an opinion. We are a law unto ourselves. There are no do-gooders in Antinomia telling you what you ought to do – to do your chores, or to get a job, or even to care for your neighbor,” the voice said proudly. “In fact, you won’t find that word ought in our vocabulary. If someone does any of those things, it will be because he wants to do them, not because someone expected it or told him to.”
But to the unhappy young man, this sea of individualism only appeared as the sands of sameness – chaos cloaked in “spontaneous order” and selfishness projected as happiness. He felt Antinomia lacked substance and definition, as if the means to happiness were the ends thereof; that it lacked humanity even as the authoritative voice assured him that true virtue required a separation from social expectations or duties. He recalled home – how warm it was, how inviting, how personable, how cooperative, and how purposeful it seemed in comparison to Antinomia.
“I’m uncomfortable here. I want to leave,” demanded the young man. And with that, he was carried to the pastoral setting of a small village.
The Church
The authoritative voice admitted to the unhappy young that individualism isn’t for everyone – many people need a sense of peace that comes from routine – and assured him that happiness can be found elsewhere. “Look here,” beckoned the voice, “perhaps this church community is more to your liking. We call it Pious.”
“It does feel different here. Warmer. Calmer. Peaceful.” the unhappy young man exhaled. “Yes, you can feel it, can’t you?” replied the voice. “The serenity is palpable in Pious. Its citizens often praise God for this gift.”
“Where is everyone?” the young man inquired. “Attending to their duties,” the voice replied. “We are very dutiful in Pious. You see,” the voice continued, “unlike Antinomia, the church can motivate persons to make sacrifices through the subordination of their selfish interests to a common good. The church is ideally suited to bring out the good in all people. It inspires and channels charity and good works, alleviating the needs of the poor, the sick, and the suffering. You never saw that in Antinomia, did you my boy?”
“No,” the unhappy young man answered, also thinking how familiar Pious felt. It seemed like home in many ways. Though he hated to admit it, it felt good.
“But I would like to meet the people of Pious,” requested the young man. “Of course,” said the authoritative voice, leading him to the church structure. Inside, people were praying silently. “How long do they pray?” the young man asked. “Oh, for hours. It’s what they do. Others work the field. Still others teach the children. And still others ensure order,” the voice explained.
“Ensure order? What do you mean?” a now concerned, unhappy young man queried. “There is order here. Just the opposite of Antinomia. “But who decides the order?” the unhappy young man asked. “God does, of course,” responded the voice, and with quick anticipation of a more difficult question added, “See here, my unhappy young man, you cannot have it both ways. You felt uncomfortable in Antinomia, so I brought you to Pious, its exact opposite. And now you are uncomfortable here?” the accompanying voice asked with no small amount of incredulity.
“I see no difference at all between the two places,” retorted the unhappy young man. “Antinomia was steeped in sameness, in its mediocrity of diversity. In Pious, all the people are the same as well, only here sameness lies in its monotonous uniformity. Let me ask, what do the town fathers do about dissent?” “What do you mean?” asked the authoritative voice, trying to deflect an obvious point. “I mean dissent. How do the leaders of Pious handle true differences of opinion?” the young man pushed back.
“You misunderstood my response to your inquiry,” offered the voice. “I know what dissent is. It just doesn’t exist here. It simply is not allowed.” The authoritative voice continued, “You seem to be missing something very important: everyone is perfectly happy here.”
“No, actually, you’re missing the point: I’m not happy here, and I am wondering what Pious offers its citizens who are unhappy?” Growing increasingly upset, the unhappy young man argued, “Isn’t that the purpose of these field trips? That I might find true happiness? I can see that Pious has many appealing characteristics. But it lacks joy. Serenity is nice, but serenity alone cannot create joy. My mother always taught me that ‘man is that he might have joy,’” recited the young man, almost embarrassed that he would quote his mother.
He continued, “And like Antinomia, I see people, I just don’t see families.”
“Oh they’re here. How do you think the children get here?” the voice uttered somewhat sarcastically. “Families are servants of the church in Pious. Everything a family undertakes is in behalf of the church. The church, not its families, is the community. A father works for the church. A mother teaches for the church. And the children are educated for the church.
“After all, my unhappy young man, family is only a means to an end – that end being conformity to the church community. My boy, the happiness you will find in Pious is the absence of uncertainty: no trials, no worries,” assured the authoritative voice.
“Isn’t that the hope you are looking for? No trials in life? No worries?” asked the voice. “Aren’t you looking for a change from where you have been? Those things didn’t make you happy. You complained of chaos in Antinomia. And now you complain of restrictions in Pious. Need I remind you that your home combined those two characteristics? Except in Antinomia there were no impositions or expectations to expose the vulnerabilities of chaos. And here in Pious there is no chaos to expose the vulnerabilities of expectations.”
“In Pious, the church is the fundamental unit of society. All human action is filtered through the church. There is hope in this faith community,” argued the authoritative voice. “You are still interested in hope, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” replied the unhappy young man, “but I’m also still interested in change – not simply a change in location, but change as in growth. The place I want to live will allow me to grow and growth can only happen when I learn from my mistakes – but to learn from mistakes I must first experience them. Pious doesn’t permit mistakes and Antinomia doesn’t even recognize them.”
“It’s natural to be confused, my unhappy young man,” said the voice, trying to comfort the boy. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You say you want to grow and that growth comes through learning from mistakes. But mistakes can only be made if you’re free to make them. Does that sound logical?” tempted the authoritative voice.
“Well, sure it does,” admitted the young man.
“Even so, you seem frightened to make those mistakes. Antinomia frightened you in its unbridled liberty and Pious frightens you in its inability to offer opportunities for failure. On the one hand, you seem frightened of failure and, on the other hand, you seem reluctant to enter a place where failures aren’t permitted. You can’t have it both ways, my boy,” counseled the voice.
“Then what shall I do?” asked the unhappy young man, now even unhappier.
“Come with me,” invited the voice.
The Corporation
“This, my boy, is Economia! Isn’t it glorious? This is where money is made and lives are happy. There is no such thing as failure here, only risk. In fact, we reward risk. Economia is filled with risk-takers – mostly with other people’s money – and you get chance after chance to learn and succeed. The only real rule is to never give up. This could be the world you are seeking,” the authoritative voice advanced hopefully.
“It sounds like it could be,” replied the young man equally hopeful. It did seem exciting, like gambling except with other people’s money. Everybody looked so busy and engaged with each other. They looked focused and yet so spirited.
“Allow me to explain how life is in Economia,” began the guiding voice.
“As in Pious, Economia is framed by the walls it occupies. It too has its cathedrals and towers, its prophets and seers, its organizations and policies. But it differs from both Antinomia and Pious in who it serves. Antinomia served the individual. Pious served the church. Economia serves what it calls “shareholders,” explained the authoritative voice excitedly.
“Shareholders?” responded the unhappy young man, confused. “Yes, shareholders,” assured the voice. “My boy, in Economia the corporation is the center of society. People with money to invest – shareholders – give it to corporations in the hope that their investment will grow,” replied the authoritative voice. “Economia exists solely to make money! Isn’t that exciting?”
The young man looked lost, or at least conflicted, and asked, “If money is everything in Economia, then what about happiness? Are you saying that money is the source of happiness?”
“No, no, no, not at all,” the voice quickly insisted. “Money is just the means to happiness. At the end of a busy work day, people take their money and do what they want with it – they use it to help themselves create happiness. My boy, in this world, money can buy anything.”
“That doesn’t sound right,” the unhappy young man surmised.
“Fair enough,” admitted the accompanying voice, “then let me try harder to explain the benefits of living in Economia.”
“In Antinomia you were disturbed by the harshness of self-interest. In Economia, self-interest is tempered by the rule of law through the morality of contracts. Everyone is required to abide by a contract. Everyone in Economia must make agreements and live up to them. You receive a benefit in return for a benefit. It is perhaps the most moral social system in the world,” the authoritative voice bore witness.
“Furthermore,” continued the voice, “it is benevolent to its rising generations. Corporations are designed for immortality. Its owners and officers, even the most important among them, will come and go, die even, and the corporation is designed to outlive them all. Nothing like that exists in Antinomia; Pious only dreams of such a promise. Hope for the future is tangible in Economia.”
In one last effort to convince the unhappy young man of his place in this new home, the authoritative voice appealed, “You are looking for happiness. You want that happiness your own way. You tell me that you want opportunities to grow and that you want the certainty of a system that isn’t arbitrary – that isn’t chaotic or lorded-over by arbitrary authorities – and a system that certainly isn’t thrust upon you by the tired traditions of your family back home!”
The voice continued, “My boy, it looks to me like we’ve found you the ideal home in Economia. All you need to be successful here is the ability to transact. Can you do that, my boy?”
“I’m quite sure I can,” the young man expressed without hesitation.
“The beauty of this system is that you don’t have to judge anyone or anything. The system makes those judgments for you. The only good is the power to transact. The only goal is to make money. How you use that power to transact and how you choose to spend your money are left up to you. You may take your money and go do whatever you want in life,” the authoritative voice said in an attempt to inspire the unhappy young man.
“I don’t see families here,” noticed the unhappy young man. “There are no children and very few women – and most of the women I see look like men.”
“True, my boy,” the voice admitted. “But we have many fine restaurants and bars and other gathering places for you to socialize – the best money can buy, as a matter of fact. If you want a wife and children, you may have them. You don’t see them because people work here; they transact all day long. And, frankly, Economia is a man’s world (good for you, huh?) and women don’t often keep up – you’ve heard of ‘survival of the fittest,’ haven’t you? That is why most of the women here look like men and also why the ones who do look like women feel perfectly comfortable using their female attributes in their favor to make transactions.”
“And where will I be at the end of the day?” the young man asked of his mentor. “What do you mean?” the guiding voice replied puzzled. “When I finish my work day – when I’ve made the money I want to make – where is my home?” the unhappy young man pressed. “Oh, of course!” exclaimed the voice. “Let me show you.” In an instant, the young man found himself in a luxurious penthouse apartment overlooking the bright lights of the city. “You relax here. This is your home.” An attractive woman was there preparing drinks and waiting on an expensive catered meal to be delivered. The unhappy young man looked surprised. The authoritative voice seized the opportunity. “My boy, have you forgotten already what I’ve told you. You can buy anything for money – anything.”
“It seems so, so cheap,” anguished the young man. “Oh, I assure you that all of this is most expensive,” chided his companion. “That’s not what I meant. I mean demeaning. Who is that young woman? Why would she be here?” the youth responded.
“She’s here because she wants to be. She wants the finest things in life. She wants to be happy just like you. She transacts just like everyone else in Economia,” lectured the authoritative voice.
“You mean she’s a prostitute?” the unhappy young man barked incredulously.
“My boy, have you not been listening to me in all of our travels together? What don’t you understand about the word ‘happiness’? Happiness is what you want it to be. We transact in Economia. You do and she does. Being here amidst all of these nice things is her happiness. She transacts in exchange for these nice things,” the voice re-explained.
“That’s not love,” insisted the young man. “Who are you to say what is or isn’t love for that young woman?” scolded the authoritative voice. “She is not asking you to hurt her or even to use her for your own purposes. She has made a transaction – her happiness is embodied by the things you have here. When those things go away or when the time comes that your mutual company is no longer what either of you desire, then you will void your relationship. But until then, you are in no place to judge her – just as she is in no place to judge you, or the worldly acquisitions you own that she desires, or even how you acquired them as long as you did so through legal contract.”
The unhappy young man was dumbfounded. He had no reply.
“You thought you found happiness in Antinomia only to learn that a culture of selfishness isn’t happiness. You thought you found happiness in Pious only to discover that a world without risk isn’t happiness. And now, in Economia, you thought you found happiness only to be reminded that happiness always comes with a price,” the authoritative voice said, ushering in the most obvious next question. “Could it be, my boy, that you want something for nothing?”
The unhappy young man remained stunned.
“Is that true? You want something for nothing?” prodded the voice.
Frustrated and in tears, the unhappy young man sadly importuned, “I just want to be happy. I want to live in a world without judgments and without contentions or pain. I want to live in a world where people in need are cared for, where the broken-hearted are comforted, where those different than me are treated no better or no worse than me, where love alone is the measure of two people’s commitment for each other, where war is absent, where the beauty of the Earth is respected, and where all people have the same rights.”
“Very well, my boy. Let’s take one final trip together,” offered the guiding voice.
The State
“What happened here?” inquired the young man, dismayed at what he was seeing.
“This is the Fatherland. This is the answer to all of your hopes and desires,” said the authoritative voice with a sense of resolve.
“No, it’s not. It can’t be,” the unhappy young man expressed astoundingly. “There’s hardly anyone here. The people I see look very unhappy. The earth is a wasteland. There is no beauty. It’s like a neutron bomb exploded and left everything standing but the people.”
“On the contrary, this is perfection. This is what you asked for, didn’t you? Didn’t you say that you sought a world without judgments and without contentions or pains?” asked the voice.
“This isn’t it,” anguished the unhappy young man. “How is it possible?”
“I’ll tell you,” committed the authoritative voice.
“The people of the Fatherland wanted hope and change just like you do. They were weary of wars and famines. They were alarmed at the destruction to the environment around them. They were sickened by moral judgments that created second-class citizens out of their neighbors,” the voice explained.
“They were tired – physically and emotionally tired – of their mortal journeys. They sought refuge from anyone who would offer peace, safety, and security. In other words, they wanted happiness and were willing to give anything to achieve it. They felt individualism was much too selfish an ideology to accomplish their goal. They also decided that religious communities were too exclusive, mean-spirited and judgmental, and that strictly market societies were materialistic and heartless.”
“But what barbarian could wreak this kind of havoc?” the unhappy young man speculated. “Oh, it was no barbarian. They did it to themselves. They chose this path. This is pure democracy. That is what is remarkable about the Fatherland: a free people did this to themselves. This was their price for perfection – for ultimate happiness,” explained the authoritative voice to the astonished unhappy young man.
“But how?” hurried the young man. “I was getting to it,” cautioned the voice.
“These people started like you. They weren’t happy with who they were. And so they visited Antinomia, just as you did, and they left with the same conclusions. They also traveled to Pious. They found what you found and chose to move on. Finally, they arrived at Economia and fell prey to the same hopelessness that you did. They wanted what you want. They sought an ideal state of existence. Like you, they simply called it happiness.
“Comprehending that happiness would not be found with the individual at the center of society, or with the church at the center of society, or even the corporation at its center, the people turned to their last refuge: the State. They felt that the State had all of the necessary tools to help them create their perfect society,” explained the authoritative voice.
“Now, please understand that this process that took them from where they were to the Fatherland came about through their own free will and choice. The State had no more power than what the people gave it. It would do no more or no less than what was requested of it. While it was eager to help, it was not impatient, mind you. It understood its place, role, and functions. It would never pretend to assume a responsibility not delegated to it by the people.
“However, it does observe the world around it. It sees the same disorder and chaos that you see. It sees needs and wants. It sees unhappiness and disease. It sees starvation and poverty, classes and conscience, waste and destruction, greed and envy. It sees the crushing burden of tradition and arbitrary power. And it asks, like you my boy, why such things must exist?”
The unhappy young man sat enthralled with the narrative of the authoritative voice.
“Now here’s the irony, my boy,” the voice tempted the unhappy young man. “Tell me. I must know,” he pleaded.
“You see, there is a sinister force behind nearly every social and economic problem. This conspirator against perfectibility goes by many different names but the State knows it by its most pejorative expression: the freedom to choose or, simply, choice. The irony, my boy, is that the same precious freedom to choose held by the people was the same freedom they willingly allowed the State to take from them,” revealed the authoritative voice. “And it did, gladly.”
“The rest is much too ugly to share with you,” warned the voice. “But you must. I need to know how the Fatherland came to be,” appealed the unhappy young man.
“As you wish,” replied the accompanying voice. “A few people emerged who began to see what must be done to achieve their ideal state of happiness. Their public appeals began to draw attention. They called it ‘political correctness’ among other names: people are much too different; people are not diverse enough; some people have too much money, others not enough; some people are more intelligent and more successful than others; religion-based morality is bigoted and much too exclusionary; and, people are not morally sensitive to the circumstances of others and Mother Earth. These arguments took root.
“In this environment, the Fatherland was born. The people authorized the State to act – to begin to uncover and remove injustices. In the name of hope and change the State made ‘progress,’ but still it wasn’t enough. These advocates for hope and change – now calling themselves ‘progressives’ – turned over more and more of their power to the State. And then the fatal moment occurred,” the authoritative voice announced.
“What?” demanded the unhappy young man.
“The point of final option,” the voice offered dramatically. “The State naturally had to conclude that people are the problem – that perfectibility wasn’t possible so long as people were allowed to choose activities and behaviors that ran counter to their ideal quest for happiness. The State concluded that it must save the people from themselves and it must do so with rapidity and force. The helping hand became the offending hand. The servant became the master. The state became the fundamental unit of society,” concluded the authoritative voice.
Stunned. The young man sat frozen for a moment. “You mean to tell me that my world of happiness doesn’t exist?” he queried his companion.
“What I’m telling you is that it doesn’t exist as long as you define your own happiness,” explained the authoritative voice to a now completely perplexed, unhappy young man. “Are you insane?” the young man yelled. “How else can I determine my own happiness?”
“There is one way,” the voice allowed. “Tell me. Tell me right now and I’ll follow that path. After all the travels you have taken me on, tell me right now of this singular way and I will follow it,” committed the young man.
The Family
At that moment, the unhappy young man found himself, once again, by the tree under which he had fallen asleep. Disoriented, he heard a familiar voice. “Son? Son, are you okay?”
“Dad?” he asked. “Yes, it’s me – and your mother. We were worried about you. We could tell you were angry when you left house and so, after a little bit, we came looking for you. Mom remembered how much you like this old tree. We’re glad you’re safe. Do you want to come home now?” the father asked his unhappy young man.
“What I want is to be happy,” replied the young man.
“And you’re not happy?” asked the father.
“Dad, I left the house with all intentions of never coming back,” the son admitted. “I’m struggling with who we are as a family, why we believe what we do about the world around us, and what that means for our relationships with our neighbors and my friends at college. Dad, I’m embarrassed for our family and I’m not happy with us.”
Witnessing how the unhappy young man was struggling with his own identity – his own place in the world – the father asked, “Have you ever heard the expression ‘you steer where you stare’?” “No,” answered his son. “It means you will tend to follow what you’re focused on,” explained the father.
“If you only see the world through the eyes of your friends at college, that view is bound to conflict with any other view that runs counter to it, such as the view of the world we raised you with,” added the father.
The unhappy young man silently recalled his travels with the authoritative voice.
He decided to share his experiences. “I’m sure you’ll think I’m crazy but this old tree here has given me some time to test exactly what you’re saying and has challenged me to confront my unhappiness.”
“I’ve thought about the core, or center, of my happiness. I guess I’ve tried to discover what makes me tick. I feel like I’ve been on journeys beyond this mountain top. Again, you’ll probably think I’m crazy, but I’ve seen the world through several different eyes. I can see that centering everything on the individual is inherently selfish of me. I also can see that, its opposite, centering everything on a church can narrow my field of vision, shelter me from necessary risk, and isolate me from really serving others with my unique talents,”
The mother interrupted, “Are you struggling with your faith?” “In a way, I guess I am. But all I mean is that life isn’t supposed to be one long church meeting,” the young man replied. The mother smiled as the father chimed in, “I hear you, brother.” “And even if it were,” his son added, “we certainly couldn’t expect everyone in the world to think so just because we do.”
He continued, “I can see that centering everything on money and things cheapens my life. It makes me feel dirty. Materialism and greed can’t be the basis for all that I do. And I’m especially fearful now about putting government at the center of my life – handing over my freedom to someone else in exchange for a false sense of security. That’s not happiness to me.”
“I feel lost,” he lamented.
“Son,” the mother of the unhappy young man consoled, “you are not lost. You have simply overlooked the happiness that is inside of you and all around you. Haven’t we taught you how important the family is to your happiness and the peace and stability of society?”
“But I am not you,” he insisted. “I am different.”
“Well, here then, let me have a look at you,” the mother replied as she began to inspect her son. “Let’s see. Two ears, two eyes, a nose and a mouth, two arms, two legs, ten fingers and ten toes. No, we’re pretty much the same.”
“You know what I mean,” the young man said with a hidden grin.
“What your mother is trying to say, son, is that your happiness is part and parcel of who you are as a human being,” explained his father. “You cannot separate your happiness from your humanness. No one can.”
The unhappy young man looked puzzled again.
“Happiness is not external to you. Happiness is found only when your actions conform to your identity. Being a human means something – it means you are purposeful. It means you are social. It means you are productive and caring. Most importantly, it means you have a family,” the father explained.
“You mean I was born to marry and have children,” the young man challenged.
“Well, yes. Family is a universal human experience. It must be for any of us to be happy. All of those other things you just mentioned,” the father continued, “are very poor substitutes for the happiness that you’ll find in your family.”
The unhappy young man searched for an argument. “Even so, that doesn’t help me with the happiness of others. Frankly, I’m not going to be happy until everyone is afforded the same opportunities to be happy,” said the young man, thinking he found an argument.
His mother asked, “Who doesn’t come from a family? Is there someone you know who doesn’t have the same opportunity to have a family?”
“Yes,” exclaimed the young man. “I have lots of friends who don’t have what you and dad have, who can’t legally marry, who aren’t respected as equals in society because they lead different lives than you. This is a big part of why I left home. I can’t stand that you think that it’s okay that other people aren’t allowed to have what you have.”
“Son, I’m no expert,” admitted the unhappy young man’s father, “but some standard has to guide our world. It can’t be an arbitrary standard because what it means to be a human being can’t mean something different for everyone. This standard needs to be something upon which all people can rely, something that works for everyone no matter who they think they are or where they come from. The family is that standard.”
“But your definition of the family isn’t for everyone, dad,” the unhappy young man insisted. “Not everyone chooses to get married, or want to marry someone of the opposite sex, or even have children.”
“Actually, son, the standard is for everyone. In fact, it’s about the only thing in life that is, with one exception” the father admonished. “Everyone also has the freedom to choose that standard or not, but they do not have the freedom to choose the consequences of their choices. That some people choose forming friendships over forming a family or to live together rather than marry is simply their choice. It’s not proof that the family isn’t the standard of happiness.”
“But that’s your standard of happiness, not others,” the unhappy young man contended. “Why do you think it’s okay to impose your beliefs on others?
“Son, living together peaceably in society requires some rules. Living together in a free society requires some very significant rules. You told us that arbitrary individualism doesn’t work. And you said that a sole focus on church, the business world, or government don’t work either. Not any of those standards allow you to be both free and at peace – in other words, not any of those choices will bring you happiness,” the father explained.
He concluded, “If you can’t trust those things enough to center your life on them, what’s left?”
The unhappy young man’s mother interjected, “Do you recall me teaching you that ‘men are that they might have joy’?” The unhappy young man nodded his head in remembrance. “Do you notice the word might? That means your happiness isn’t automatic. It means your happiness is predicated upon something. And that’s actually the good news – that word, might, also means that there’s hope that you’ll find it.”
“Let me ask you, if you could build you own world, what would you place at its center?” The unhappy young man thought for a minute. “I don’t know. That’s my struggle I guess.”
“That’s a struggle everyone must face, son,” the mother said encouragingly. “I’m proud of you for facing it at such a young age. I can tell you this. I’ve answered that question for myself and there’s really only one answer. There is no other institution outside of the family that can balance all that life has to offer.”
“Sweetheart,” the unhappy young man’s mother added, “the other important things you mentioned become stronger because of the family. The same cannot be said about any of them.”
As the unhappy young man and his parents descended the mountain top, he could hear the whispering of the authoritative voice written upon his heart, “Happiness always has a price. The price of true happiness is conforming what you do, each and every day, to who you really are as a human being. Your family is your happiness. It is for everyone.”
The End.
The Unhappy Young Man: A Parable
Disgruntled with the only world he knew, the unhappy young man hiked to the crest of a nearby mountain, turned one last time to gaze upon the lives he was determined to abandon, and resolved, then and there, to never look back.
Frustrated and tired, he’d had enough. The unknown wilderness surely had much more hope and change to offer him than the stifling, stagnant, backward community he was leaving behind.
Hours became miles and the unhappy young man grew weary. He paused by a large tree just long enough to relax and fall asleep.
He awoke from a sleep that seemed to last only minutes. “Wake up.” The unhappy young man sprang to his feet. “Calm yourself,” came an authoritative voice from the shadows. “I am your friend. I know what you are feeling. I know of the hope and change an unhappy young man like you is looking for.”
The Individual
In an instant, the unhappy young man was swept away to an unfamiliar place. “Where am I?” he asked curiously. “Your new home,” replied the authoritative voice. “New home?” the unhappy young man wondered. “Yes, your new home. A place more to your liking. A place where you will find the difference you seek,” the voice offered reassuringly.
“Does it have a name?” asked the unhappy young man. “Yes. Its name is Antinomia, the home to vast numbers of true individuals just like you,” the authoritative voice proclaimed proudly. “In Antinomia, you do what you desire. There are few rules because true individuals living in true freedom don’t need many rules. You are a true individual, aren’t you, my unhappy young man?” pressed the voice.
“Oh yes, I am,” the unhappy young man quickly declared.
“Very well. You will love it here. In Antinomia, you are a lone man in an exciting wilderness of your own making. The world is yours as you awake each morning. Perhaps you want to go fishing, or build a house, or perhaps you want to invent a cure for cancer. Or perhaps you’ll decide to simply stay in bed. The choices are yours to make, and all yours,” encouraged the guiding voice.
“Antinomia sounds wonderful!” exclaimed the young man.
“Your possibilities are unlimited. Everyone is the same here because everyone is different. The common denominator of Antinomia is the individual – individual desire is the basis for all we do and of who we are. Our liberty is to do what we desire. Everyone looks out for their own self-interest and, in doing so, your self-interest serves others. A man who knows how to build homes needs to eat, while another man has food but no home. This ‘invisible hand’ of self-interest is our strength,” insisted the authoritative voice.
“We marry who we want. We worship what we may. We view what we enjoy. We celebrate diversity,” proclaimed the authoritative voice. “Do you have any rules? Any proscriptions on behavior?” asked the unhappy young man. “Only one: do not hurt another human being,” the authoritative voice insisted. “Do what you will, just do not hurt your neighbor.”
“Fascinating! Tell me, what happens when what I enjoy causes pain – emotional or otherwise – for my neighbor?” questioned the young man. “What becomes the higher value: my personal desire or my neighbor’s pain?”
“Now, now,” cautioned the authoritative voice, “there is no need for such deep questions in Antinomia, let alone answers. We are not only diverse, we are tolerant. You will find, once you’ve been here with us for a while, that such dilemmas are few and far between.”
The unhappy young man was left to himself to take in his surroundings. He noticed that to his left was an old man begging for food. Everyone just passed him by. To his right he saw a tired-looking woman selling herself to men alongside a man selling apples and another man selling newspapers. “So this is what it looks like to place the individual at the center of society,” the unhappy young man thought to himself.
“Are you still here?” the unhappy young man called out. “Yes, I’m here,” said the authoritative voice. “What about love? Can I find love in Antinomia?” sighed the unhappy young man. “Love is whatever you want it to be,” replied the voice.
The answer caused the unhappy young man to pause. “I like that people seem to be doing what they desire, but they seem to do it without regard for each other. I see many transactions in the marketplace, but very few genuine social interactions. And I really like that everyone seems to be free to choose what they’ll do at any given time, but I can’t really see how the value of any choice is determined – it seems like all choices are equally valued,” he observed.
“That’s the beauty of Antinomia,” the authoritative voice replied confidently. “We’re all different and yet all the same. We have diversity amidst equality. No one person’s opinion is better than another yet everyone has an opinion. We are a law unto ourselves. There are no do-gooders in Antinomia telling you what you ought to do – to do your chores, or to get a job, or even to care for your neighbor,” the voice said proudly. “In fact, you won’t find that word ought in our vocabulary. If someone does any of those things, it will be because he wants to do them, not because someone expected it or told him to.”
But to the unhappy young man, this sea of individualism only appeared as the sands of sameness – chaos cloaked in “spontaneous order” and selfishness projected as happiness. He felt Antinomia lacked substance and definition, as if the means to happiness were the ends thereof; that it lacked humanity even as the authoritative voice assured him that true virtue required a separation from social expectations or duties. He recalled home – how warm it was, how inviting, how personable, how cooperative, and how purposeful it seemed in comparison to Antinomia.
“I’m uncomfortable here. I want to leave,” demanded the young man. And with that, he was carried to the pastoral setting of a small village.
The Church
The authoritative voice admitted to the unhappy young that individualism isn’t for everyone – many people need a sense of peace that comes from routine – and assured him that happiness can be found elsewhere. “Look here,” beckoned the voice, “perhaps this church community is more to your liking. We call it Pious.”
“It does feel different here. Warmer. Calmer. Peaceful.” the unhappy young man exhaled. “Yes, you can feel it, can’t you?” replied the voice. “The serenity is palpable in Pious. Its citizens often praise God for this gift.”
“Where is everyone?” the young man inquired. “Attending to their duties,” the voice replied. “We are very dutiful in Pious. You see,” the voice continued, “unlike Antinomia, the church can motivate persons to make sacrifices through the subordination of their selfish interests to a common good. The church is ideally suited to bring out the good in all people. It inspires and channels charity and good works, alleviating the needs of the poor, the sick, and the suffering. You never saw that in Antinomia, did you my boy?”
“No,” the unhappy young man answered, also thinking how familiar Pious felt. It seemed like home in many ways. Though he hated to admit it, it felt good.
“But I would like to meet the people of Pious,” requested the young man. “Of course,” said the authoritative voice, leading him to the church structure. Inside, people were praying silently. “How long do they pray?” the young man asked. “Oh, for hours. It’s what they do. Others work the field. Still others teach the children. And still others ensure order,” the voice explained.
“Ensure order? What do you mean?” a now concerned, unhappy young man queried. “There is order here. Just the opposite of Antinomia. “But who decides the order?” the unhappy young man asked. “God does, of course,” responded the voice, and with quick anticipation of a more difficult question added, “See here, my unhappy young man, you cannot have it both ways. You felt uncomfortable in Antinomia, so I brought you to Pious, its exact opposite. And now you are uncomfortable here?” the accompanying voice asked with no small amount of incredulity.
“I see no difference at all between the two places,” retorted the unhappy young man. “Antinomia was steeped in sameness, in its mediocrity of diversity. In Pious, all the people are the same as well, only here sameness lies in its monotonous uniformity. Let me ask, what do the town fathers do about dissent?” “What do you mean?” asked the authoritative voice, trying to deflect an obvious point. “I mean dissent. How do the leaders of Pious handle true differences of opinion?” the young man pushed back.
“You misunderstood my response to your inquiry,” offered the voice. “I know what dissent is. It just doesn’t exist here. It simply is not allowed.” The authoritative voice continued, “You seem to be missing something very important: everyone is perfectly happy here.”
“No, actually, you’re missing the point: I’m not happy here, and I am wondering what Pious offers its citizens who are unhappy?” Growing increasingly upset, the unhappy young man argued, “Isn’t that the purpose of these field trips? That I might find true happiness? I can see that Pious has many appealing characteristics. But it lacks joy. Serenity is nice, but serenity alone cannot create joy. My mother always taught me that ‘man is that he might have joy,’” recited the young man, almost embarrassed that he would quote his mother.
He continued, “And like Antinomia, I see people, I just don’t see families.”
“Oh they’re here. How do you think the children get here?” the voice uttered somewhat sarcastically. “Families are servants of the church in Pious. Everything a family undertakes is in behalf of the church. The church, not its families, is the community. A father works for the church. A mother teaches for the church. And the children are educated for the church.
“After all, my unhappy young man, family is only a means to an end – that end being conformity to the church community. My boy, the happiness you will find in Pious is the absence of uncertainty: no trials, no worries,” assured the authoritative voice.
“Isn’t that the hope you are looking for? No trials in life? No worries?” asked the voice. “Aren’t you looking for a change from where you have been? Those things didn’t make you happy. You complained of chaos in Antinomia. And now you complain of restrictions in Pious. Need I remind you that your home combined those two characteristics? Except in Antinomia there were no impositions or expectations to expose the vulnerabilities of chaos. And here in Pious there is no chaos to expose the vulnerabilities of expectations.”
“In Pious, the church is the fundamental unit of society. All human action is filtered through the church. There is hope in this faith community,” argued the authoritative voice. “You are still interested in hope, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” replied the unhappy young man, “but I’m also still interested in change – not simply a change in location, but change as in growth. The place I want to live will allow me to grow and growth can only happen when I learn from my mistakes – but to learn from mistakes I must first experience them. Pious doesn’t permit mistakes and Antinomia doesn’t even recognize them.”
“It’s natural to be confused, my unhappy young man,” said the voice, trying to comfort the boy. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You say you want to grow and that growth comes through learning from mistakes. But mistakes can only be made if you’re free to make them. Does that sound logical?” tempted the authoritative voice.
“Well, sure it does,” admitted the young man.
“Even so, you seem frightened to make those mistakes. Antinomia frightened you in its unbridled liberty and Pious frightens you in its inability to offer opportunities for failure. On the one hand, you seem frightened of failure and, on the other hand, you seem reluctant to enter a place where failures aren’t permitted. You can’t have it both ways, my boy,” counseled the voice.
“Then what shall I do?” asked the unhappy young man, now even unhappier.
“Come with me,” invited the voice.
The Corporation
“This, my boy, is Economia! Isn’t it glorious? This is where money is made and lives are happy. There is no such thing as failure here, only risk. In fact, we reward risk. Economia is filled with risk-takers – mostly with other people’s money – and you get chance after chance to learn and succeed. The only real rule is to never give up. This could be the world you are seeking,” the authoritative voice advanced hopefully.
“It sounds like it could be,” replied the young man equally hopeful. It did seem exciting, like gambling except with other people’s money. Everybody looked so busy and engaged with each other. They looked focused and yet so spirited.
“Allow me to explain how life is in Economia,” began the guiding voice.
“As in Pious, Economia is framed by the walls it occupies. It too has its cathedrals and towers, its prophets and seers, its organizations and policies. But it differs from both Antinomia and Pious in who it serves. Antinomia served the individual. Pious served the church. Economia serves what it calls “shareholders,” explained the authoritative voice excitedly.
“Shareholders?” responded the unhappy young man, confused. “Yes, shareholders,” assured the voice. “My boy, in Economia the corporation is the center of society. People with money to invest – shareholders – give it to corporations in the hope that their investment will grow,” replied the authoritative voice. “Economia exists solely to make money! Isn’t that exciting?”
The young man looked lost, or at least conflicted, and asked, “If money is everything in Economia, then what about happiness? Are you saying that money is the source of happiness?”
“No, no, no, not at all,” the voice quickly insisted. “Money is just the means to happiness. At the end of a busy work day, people take their money and do what they want with it – they use it to help themselves create happiness. My boy, in this world, money can buy anything.”
“That doesn’t sound right,” the unhappy young man surmised.
“Fair enough,” admitted the accompanying voice, “then let me try harder to explain the benefits of living in Economia.”
“In Antinomia you were disturbed by the harshness of self-interest. In Economia, self-interest is tempered by the rule of law through the morality of contracts. Everyone is required to abide by a contract. Everyone in Economia must make agreements and live up to them. You receive a benefit in return for a benefit. It is perhaps the most moral social system in the world,” the authoritative voice bore witness.
“Furthermore,” continued the voice, “it is benevolent to its rising generations. Corporations are designed for immortality. Its owners and officers, even the most important among them, will come and go, die even, and the corporation is designed to outlive them all. Nothing like that exists in Antinomia; Pious only dreams of such a promise. Hope for the future is tangible in Economia.”
In one last effort to convince the unhappy young man of his place in this new home, the authoritative voice appealed, “You are looking for happiness. You want that happiness your own way. You tell me that you want opportunities to grow and that you want the certainty of a system that isn’t arbitrary – that isn’t chaotic or lorded-over by arbitrary authorities – and a system that certainly isn’t thrust upon you by the tired traditions of your family back home!”
The voice continued, “My boy, it looks to me like we’ve found you the ideal home in Economia. All you need to be successful here is the ability to transact. Can you do that, my boy?”
“I’m quite sure I can,” the young man expressed without hesitation.
“The beauty of this system is that you don’t have to judge anyone or anything. The system makes those judgments for you. The only good is the power to transact. The only goal is to make money. How you use that power to transact and how you choose to spend your money are left up to you. You may take your money and go do whatever you want in life,” the authoritative voice said in an attempt to inspire the unhappy young man.
“I don’t see families here,” noticed the unhappy young man. “There are no children and very few women – and most of the women I see look like men.”
“True, my boy,” the voice admitted. “But we have many fine restaurants and bars and other gathering places for you to socialize – the best money can buy, as a matter of fact. If you want a wife and children, you may have them. You don’t see them because people work here; they transact all day long. And, frankly, Economia is a man’s world (good for you, huh?) and women don’t often keep up – you’ve heard of ‘survival of the fittest,’ haven’t you? That is why most of the women here look like men and also why the ones who do look like women feel perfectly comfortable using their female attributes in their favor to make transactions.”
“And where will I be at the end of the day?” the young man asked of his mentor. “What do you mean?” the guiding voice replied puzzled. “When I finish my work day – when I’ve made the money I want to make – where is my home?” the unhappy young man pressed. “Oh, of course!” exclaimed the voice. “Let me show you.” In an instant, the young man found himself in a luxurious penthouse apartment overlooking the bright lights of the city. “You relax here. This is your home.” An attractive woman was there preparing drinks and waiting on an expensive catered meal to be delivered. The unhappy young man looked surprised. The authoritative voice seized the opportunity. “My boy, have you forgotten already what I’ve told you. You can buy anything for money – anything.”
“It seems so, so cheap,” anguished the young man. “Oh, I assure you that all of this is most expensive,” chided his companion. “That’s not what I meant. I mean demeaning. Who is that young woman? Why would she be here?” the youth responded.
“She’s here because she wants to be. She wants the finest things in life. She wants to be happy just like you. She transacts just like everyone else in Economia,” lectured the authoritative voice.
“You mean she’s a prostitute?” the unhappy young man barked incredulously.
“My boy, have you not been listening to me in all of our travels together? What don’t you understand about the word ‘happiness’? Happiness is what you want it to be. We transact in Economia. You do and she does. Being here amidst all of these nice things is her happiness. She transacts in exchange for these nice things,” the voice re-explained.
“That’s not love,” insisted the young man. “Who are you to say what is or isn’t love for that young woman?” scolded the authoritative voice. “She is not asking you to hurt her or even to use her for your own purposes. She has made a transaction – her happiness is embodied by the things you have here. When those things go away or when the time comes that your mutual company is no longer what either of you desire, then you will void your relationship. But until then, you are in no place to judge her – just as she is in no place to judge you, or the worldly acquisitions you own that she desires, or even how you acquired them as long as you did so through legal contract.”
The unhappy young man was dumbfounded. He had no reply.
“You thought you found happiness in Antinomia only to learn that a culture of selfishness isn’t happiness. You thought you found happiness in Pious only to discover that a world without risk isn’t happiness. And now, in Economia, you thought you found happiness only to be reminded that happiness always comes with a price,” the authoritative voice said, ushering in the most obvious next question. “Could it be, my boy, that you want something for nothing?”
The unhappy young man remained stunned.
“Is that true? You want something for nothing?” prodded the voice.
Frustrated and in tears, the unhappy young man sadly importuned, “I just want to be happy. I want to live in a world without judgments and without contentions or pain. I want to live in a world where people in need are cared for, where the broken-hearted are comforted, where those different than me are treated no better or no worse than me, where love alone is the measure of two people’s commitment for each other, where war is absent, where the beauty of the Earth is respected, and where all people have the same rights.”
“Very well, my boy. Let’s take one final trip together,” offered the guiding voice.
The State
“What happened here?” inquired the young man, dismayed at what he was seeing.
“This is the Fatherland. This is the answer to all of your hopes and desires,” said the authoritative voice with a sense of resolve.
“No, it’s not. It can’t be,” the unhappy young man expressed astoundingly. “There’s hardly anyone here. The people I see look very unhappy. The earth is a wasteland. There is no beauty. It’s like a neutron bomb exploded and left everything standing but the people.”
“On the contrary, this is perfection. This is what you asked for, didn’t you? Didn’t you say that you sought a world without judgments and without contentions or pains?” asked the voice.
“This isn’t it,” anguished the unhappy young man. “How is it possible?”
“I’ll tell you,” committed the authoritative voice.
“The people of the Fatherland wanted hope and change just like you do. They were weary of wars and famines. They were alarmed at the destruction to the environment around them. They were sickened by moral judgments that created second-class citizens out of their neighbors,” the voice explained.
“They were tired – physically and emotionally tired – of their mortal journeys. They sought refuge from anyone who would offer peace, safety, and security. In other words, they wanted happiness and were willing to give anything to achieve it. They felt individualism was much too selfish an ideology to accomplish their goal. They also decided that religious communities were too exclusive, mean-spirited and judgmental, and that strictly market societies were materialistic and heartless.”
“But what barbarian could wreak this kind of havoc?” the unhappy young man speculated. “Oh, it was no barbarian. They did it to themselves. They chose this path. This is pure democracy. That is what is remarkable about the Fatherland: a free people did this to themselves. This was their price for perfection – for ultimate happiness,” explained the authoritative voice to the astonished unhappy young man.
“But how?” hurried the young man. “I was getting to it,” cautioned the voice.
“These people started like you. They weren’t happy with who they were. And so they visited Antinomia, just as you did, and they left with the same conclusions. They also traveled to Pious. They found what you found and chose to move on. Finally, they arrived at Economia and fell prey to the same hopelessness that you did. They wanted what you want. They sought an ideal state of existence. Like you, they simply called it happiness.
“Comprehending that happiness would not be found with the individual at the center of society, or with the church at the center of society, or even the corporation at its center, the people turned to their last refuge: the State. They felt that the State had all of the necessary tools to help them create their perfect society,” explained the authoritative voice.
“Now, please understand that this process that took them from where they were to the Fatherland came about through their own free will and choice. The State had no more power than what the people gave it. It would do no more or no less than what was requested of it. While it was eager to help, it was not impatient, mind you. It understood its place, role, and functions. It would never pretend to assume a responsibility not delegated to it by the people.
“However, it does observe the world around it. It sees the same disorder and chaos that you see. It sees needs and wants. It sees unhappiness and disease. It sees starvation and poverty, classes and conscience, waste and destruction, greed and envy. It sees the crushing burden of tradition and arbitrary power. And it asks, like you my boy, why such things must exist?”
The unhappy young man sat enthralled with the narrative of the authoritative voice.
“Now here’s the irony, my boy,” the voice tempted the unhappy young man. “Tell me. I must know,” he pleaded.
“You see, there is a sinister force behind nearly every social and economic problem. This conspirator against perfectibility goes by many different names but the State knows it by its most pejorative expression: the freedom to choose or, simply, choice. The irony, my boy, is that the same precious freedom to choose held by the people was the same freedom they willingly allowed the State to take from them,” revealed the authoritative voice. “And it did, gladly.”
“The rest is much too ugly to share with you,” warned the voice. “But you must. I need to know how the Fatherland came to be,” appealed the unhappy young man.
“As you wish,” replied the accompanying voice. “A few people emerged who began to see what must be done to achieve their ideal state of happiness. Their public appeals began to draw attention. They called it ‘political correctness’ among other names: people are much too different; people are not diverse enough; some people have too much money, others not enough; some people are more intelligent and more successful than others; religion-based morality is bigoted and much too exclusionary; and, people are not morally sensitive to the circumstances of others and Mother Earth. These arguments took root.
“In this environment, the Fatherland was born. The people authorized the State to act – to begin to uncover and remove injustices. In the name of hope and change the State made ‘progress,’ but still it wasn’t enough. These advocates for hope and change – now calling themselves ‘progressives’ – turned over more and more of their power to the State. And then the fatal moment occurred,” the authoritative voice announced.
“What?” demanded the unhappy young man.
“The point of final option,” the voice offered dramatically. “The State naturally had to conclude that people are the problem – that perfectibility wasn’t possible so long as people were allowed to choose activities and behaviors that ran counter to their ideal quest for happiness. The State concluded that it must save the people from themselves and it must do so with rapidity and force. The helping hand became the offending hand. The servant became the master. The state became the fundamental unit of society,” concluded the authoritative voice.
Stunned. The young man sat frozen for a moment. “You mean to tell me that my world of happiness doesn’t exist?” he queried his companion.
“What I’m telling you is that it doesn’t exist as long as you define your own happiness,” explained the authoritative voice to a now completely perplexed, unhappy young man. “Are you insane?” the young man yelled. “How else can I determine my own happiness?”
“There is one way,” the voice allowed. “Tell me. Tell me right now and I’ll follow that path. After all the travels you have taken me on, tell me right now of this singular way and I will follow it,” committed the young man.
The Family
At that moment, the unhappy young man found himself, once again, by the tree under which he had fallen asleep. Disoriented, he heard a familiar voice. “Son? Son, are you okay?”
“Dad?” he asked. “Yes, it’s me – and your mother. We were worried about you. We could tell you were angry when you left house and so, after a little bit, we came looking for you. Mom remembered how much you like this old tree. We’re glad you’re safe. Do you want to come home now?” the father asked his unhappy young man.
“What I want is to be happy,” replied the young man.
“And you’re not happy?” asked the father.
“Dad, I left the house with all intentions of never coming back,” the son admitted. “I’m struggling with who we are as a family, why we believe what we do about the world around us, and what that means for our relationships with our neighbors and my friends at college. Dad, I’m embarrassed for our family and I’m not happy with us.”
Witnessing how the unhappy young man was struggling with his own identity – his own place in the world – the father asked, “Have you ever heard the expression ‘you steer where you stare’?” “No,” answered his son. “It means you will tend to follow what you’re focused on,” explained the father.
“If you only see the world through the eyes of your friends at college, that view is bound to conflict with any other view that runs counter to it, such as the view of the world we raised you with,” added the father.
The unhappy young man silently recalled his travels with the authoritative voice.
He decided to share his experiences. “I’m sure you’ll think I’m crazy but this old tree here has given me some time to test exactly what you’re saying and has challenged me to confront my unhappiness.”
“I’ve thought about the core, or center, of my happiness. I guess I’ve tried to discover what makes me tick. I feel like I’ve been on journeys beyond this mountain top. Again, you’ll probably think I’m crazy, but I’ve seen the world through several different eyes. I can see that centering everything on the individual is inherently selfish of me. I also can see that, its opposite, centering everything on a church can narrow my field of vision, shelter me from necessary risk, and isolate me from really serving others with my unique talents,”
The mother interrupted, “Are you struggling with your faith?” “In a way, I guess I am. But all I mean is that life isn’t supposed to be one long church meeting,” the young man replied. The mother smiled as the father chimed in, “I hear you, brother.” “And even if it were,” his son added, “we certainly couldn’t expect everyone in the world to think so just because we do.”
He continued, “I can see that centering everything on money and things cheapens my life. It makes me feel dirty. Materialism and greed can’t be the basis for all that I do. And I’m especially fearful now about putting government at the center of my life – handing over my freedom to someone else in exchange for a false sense of security. That’s not happiness to me.”
“I feel lost,” he lamented.
“Son,” the mother of the unhappy young man consoled, “you are not lost. You have simply overlooked the happiness that is inside of you and all around you. Haven’t we taught you how important the family is to your happiness and the peace and stability of society?”
“But I am not you,” he insisted. “I am different.”
“Well, here then, let me have a look at you,” the mother replied as she began to inspect her son. “Let’s see. Two ears, two eyes, a nose and a mouth, two arms, two legs, ten fingers and ten toes. No, we’re pretty much the same.”
“You know what I mean,” the young man said with a hidden grin.
“What your mother is trying to say, son, is that your happiness is part and parcel of who you are as a human being,” explained his father. “You cannot separate your happiness from your humanness. No one can.”
The unhappy young man looked puzzled again.
“Happiness is not external to you. Happiness is found only when your actions conform to your identity. Being a human means something – it means you are purposeful. It means you are social. It means you are productive and caring. Most importantly, it means you have a family,” the father explained.
“You mean I was born to marry and have children,” the young man challenged.
“Well, yes. Family is a universal human experience. It must be for any of us to be happy. All of those other things you just mentioned,” the father continued, “are very poor substitutes for the happiness that you’ll find in your family.”
The unhappy young man searched for an argument. “Even so, that doesn’t help me with the happiness of others. Frankly, I’m not going to be happy until everyone is afforded the same opportunities to be happy,” said the young man, thinking he found an argument.
His mother asked, “Who doesn’t come from a family? Is there someone you know who doesn’t have the same opportunity to have a family?”
“Yes,” exclaimed the young man. “I have lots of friends who don’t have what you and dad have, who can’t legally marry, who aren’t respected as equals in society because they lead different lives than you. This is a big part of why I left home. I can’t stand that you think that it’s okay that other people aren’t allowed to have what you have.”
“Son, I’m no expert,” admitted the unhappy young man’s father, “but some standard has to guide our world. It can’t be an arbitrary standard because what it means to be a human being can’t mean something different for everyone. This standard needs to be something upon which all people can rely, something that works for everyone no matter who they think they are or where they come from. The family is that standard.”
“But your definition of the family isn’t for everyone, dad,” the unhappy young man insisted. “Not everyone chooses to get married, or want to marry someone of the opposite sex, or even have children.”
“Actually, son, the standard is for everyone. In fact, it’s about the only thing in life that is, with one exception” the father admonished. “Everyone also has the freedom to choose that standard or not, but they do not have the freedom to choose the consequences of their choices. That some people choose forming friendships over forming a family or to live together rather than marry is simply their choice. It’s not proof that the family isn’t the standard of happiness.”
“But that’s your standard of happiness, not others,” the unhappy young man contended. “Why do you think it’s okay to impose your beliefs on others?
“Son, living together peaceably in society requires some rules. Living together in a free society requires some very significant rules. You told us that arbitrary individualism doesn’t work. And you said that a sole focus on church, the business world, or government don’t work either. Not any of those standards allow you to be both free and at peace – in other words, not any of those choices will bring you happiness,” the father explained.
He concluded, “If you can’t trust those things enough to center your life on them, what’s left?”
The unhappy young man’s mother interjected, “Do you recall me teaching you that ‘men are that they might have joy’?” The unhappy young man nodded his head in remembrance. “Do you notice the word might? That means your happiness isn’t automatic. It means your happiness is predicated upon something. And that’s actually the good news – that word, might, also means that there’s hope that you’ll find it.”
“Let me ask you, if you could build you own world, what would you place at its center?” The unhappy young man thought for a minute. “I don’t know. That’s my struggle I guess.”
“That’s a struggle everyone must face, son,” the mother said encouragingly. “I’m proud of you for facing it at such a young age. I can tell you this. I’ve answered that question for myself and there’s really only one answer. There is no other institution outside of the family that can balance all that life has to offer.”
“Sweetheart,” the unhappy young man’s mother added, “the other important things you mentioned become stronger because of the family. The same cannot be said about any of them.”
As the unhappy young man and his parents descended the mountain top, he could hear the whispering of the authoritative voice written upon his heart, “Happiness always has a price. The price of true happiness is conforming what you do, each and every day, to who you really are as a human being. Your family is your happiness. It is for everyone.”
The End.