New York Times writer David Brooks’ new book, On the Road to Character, examines what it takes to create a virtuous life. The author’s central question: Does a person of character focus solely on building on one’s strengths or does he confront and improve his weaknesses?
It is an interesting topic for a man who makes his living writing pithy, sometimes political, columns in a very secular newspaper. While Brooks is Jewish, a Christian will be comfortable with his language and motifs. And in the end, the book is not simply about character, but about sin, grace, and salvation.
This is not an interpretation. Brooks himself reflects, “I wrote it, to be honest, to save my own soul.” While the beginning of the book speaks to professional achievement and what it takes to make it in one’s field of endeavor, the book’s secondary themes of joy, love, and redemption make this more than a self-help book or guide to success. In fact, it reads as a decidedly religious work.
The chapters are titled with themes such as “struggle,” “self-conquest,” and “ordered love.” With each, he uses a person (or two) to illustrate the theme. These are all well-known folks – for instance, Dorothy Day and Dwight D. Eisenhower – but there are no pedestals. Brooks is clear that all his exemplars have feet of clay. They struggled mightily with their inner demons, their flaws … their sin. Brooks wants readers to know that we should find encouragement in the perseverance of such folks, and not focus (too much) on their faults.
To a Catholic like me, this sounds a lot like the communion of the saints. Catholics believe that humans – despite their flawed and sinful nature – can achieve the ultimate goal: to dwell eternally in the presence of God. Of course, these flawed people do this only by choosing lifelong combat with their own sin and by the grace of God.
In an interview with Catholic News Agency, Brooks mentions his acquaintance with the “insanely joyful” Monsignor Ray East, a priest in a poor Washington neighborhood. Brooks says that despite his own career success, he did not have what East had: joy. How does one attain that? The Road to Character is Brooks’ attempt to answer that question.
The book is not without flaws. Brooks’ treatment of “love” is muddled. (He has two chapters, one titled “Love” and one “Ordered Love.”) In the former, Brooks focuses on the author George Eliot, born Mary Ann Evans in 1819 in England. Eliot is hungry for affection – which is not the same as love. She wants to be admired – which is not the same as being loved. Ultimately, she finds a life partner in George Lewes, a married father who had an “open marriage.” Eliot eventually turns her back on her Christian upbringing and societal norms, choosing to live with Lewes and insisting on being called “Mrs. Lewes,” although the two never married. Brooks describes love in this chapter as being “out of control”; “primordial”; and something we cannot “plan, schedule, or determine.”
While this is a common enough interpretation, it is, in my estimation, juvenile and romanticized. From this viewpoint, love is an emotional charge that says, “I want what I want and all else be damned.” It seeks fulfillment of self and no other. It is, I would argue, not love, but selfishness disguised as love.
In the next section, “Ordered Love,” Brooks gets closer to the mark. Here, he examines the life of St. Augustine, a man of lustful appetites. Augustine comes to realize that seeking fulfillment of primordial desires through sexual forays is not enough. Brooks puts it this way:
Left to ourselves, we often desire the wrong things. Whether it’s around the dessert tray or in the late-night bar, we know we should choose one thing but end up choosing another. As the Bible says in Romans, "for the good that I would, I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do."
Augustine learned that love was not “out of control,” not scattered and wanton, but ordered. Love is, ultimately, a decision, an act of the will: I choose to act in the best interest of the other. A parent is a good example: I choose what is best for my child, rather than what I want. And I choose my child again and again, until he is responsible for himself. Even then, I choose my child, for I love my child.
The final chapter is a religious one. Brooks says “we are ultimately saved by grace.” Humans “lurch” their way towards God, struggling to overcome obstacles and their own passions. This stumbling, along with God’s grace, is what leads us to joy:
Joy is not produced because others praise you. Joy emanates unbidden and unforced. Joy comes as a gift when you least expect it. At those fleeting moments you know why you were put here and what truth you serve.
These are not the words of a man focused merely on character formation, financial success, or fame. These are the words of a man discovering God.
