Eulogy Virtues Part II

Two years ago, I wrote about David Brook’s piece in the New York Times ( It’s funny what can happen in 2 years. I feel I’m farther away from my goals than I ever imagined!

Austrian poet Ranier Maria Rilke’s words come to mind:  “Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

Although my questions did not lead to answers, they did lead to personal growth. And maybe this growth is more important than my goals which is exactly what David Brooks is trying to convey in his Ted Talk on eulogy virtues.

Let’s be clear here. David Brooks is not the most entertaining speaker. His style is the opposite of the current President’s. On a side note, I’m not sure how a yellow-haired loud-mouthed populist who lacks competency as a moral human being, or even a moral ape, can be an influential speaker. Yet Brooks puts together a great argument: find your weaknesses and turn them into a life of love.

In the Ted Talk, this quote by American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr stands out:

“Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope.Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history;therefore we must be saved by faith. Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone;therefore we must be saved by love. No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own standpoint. Therefore we must be saved by that final form of love, which is forgiveness.”

Forgiveness as a form of love. Such a great thought to ponder on. Ponder away folks! Let these concepts simmer within you like a pilot light in a 1940’s gas wall heater (one of the perks of living in a house built in the 1920’s…lead poisoning here I come!).