Being Made of Solid Wood

There's nothing quite like holding a piece of furniture, a box, or a musical instrument of solid wood, made thoughtfully and artfully, by hand. These objects have a certain aura about them, something in them that even inspires me to be a better man. They are the real deal. It is one of my aspirations in life to be like these. When someone encounters me, I would want them to think, "This here is a true man." This requires more than authenticity. Our generation loves authenticity. We are all supposed to just "be ourselves." This is true, but our selves also need to be something. Our selves must have substance. Otherwise we are just authentically mediocre. 

I like an idea I encountered in Dietrich von Hildebrand. In spite of what psychologists might say, we do not all have personalities. Some people are personalities. A personality is someone who is great, someone who has virtue. The rest of us, who lack greatness, have no personality. A personality is a person who becomes what God intended him to be. Take von Hildebrand himself:

A personality in the true sense of the word is the man who rises above the average only because he fully realizes the classical human attitudes, because he knows more deeply and originally than the average man, loves more profoundly and authentically, wills more clearly and correctly than the others, and makes full use of his freedom; in a word, he is the complete, the profound, and the true man (Liturgy and Personality, Ch. II). 

This is what sets those beautiful works of human craftsmanship apart from the cheap veneered furniture to be found anywhere. They have "personality". In our times, the veneered person is commonplace as well. Our social media presences and our résumés are often veneers covering what is lacking in substance and true personality. It reminds me of one of the aphorisms of Baltasar Gracián, SJ, (translated by Christopher Maurer):

292. Let your character be superior to the requirements of the job, not vice versa.

No matter how great the post, you must show you are greater. Deep talent grows even deeper, and more obvious, with each pursuit. The person with a narrow mind and heart will be easily caught, and eventually the weight of his duties will crush his reputation. The great Augustus was proud of being a better man than a prince. Here is where one needs a lofty spirit, and well-grounded confidence in oneself.

This last sentence contrasts quite starkly with what I quoted from Lorenzo Scupoli the other day. Two priests, giving almost opposite advice.  It should be noted that Gracián's aphorism comes from his work titled The Art of Worldly Wisdom. Note that he also says "well-grounded confidence". Coincidentally, both Scupoli and Gracián were disciplined for disobedience. Yet, Scupoli seems to have accepted his chastisement with humility, and was vindicated in the end, whereas Gracián was obstinate in his ways. So, I would rather follow the advice of Scupoli, but I am still drawn to the ideal of Augustus, of being a better man than what one's titles or credentials show, having a substance of solid wood, not just its outward appearance.

"Fake it till you make it"

I wrote a rather impertinent piece a couple of weeks ago on this topic, which I subsequently deleted. Brittany, however, wanted to know my views. Here is my attempt to present a case against it more concisely. And I hope to hear her response (or anyone else's).

First of all, I would say that I'm not entirely against "fake it till you make it," depending on what the phrase means. If I "fake" being a saint by never sinning again and continuously performing heroic deeds and works of mercy, I wouldn't call that faking it. That's just making it. It would be helpful, then, first to articulate what we mean by "fake it till you make it."

The concept is basically that of a positive self-fulfilling prophecy. If I believe positive things about myself, even if they are untrue, I will act more positively, in accordance with those beliefs. Thus, if I pretend to be a confident person, I will act like a confident person, and thereby become a confident person. If I pretend to be a happy person, I will act like I'm happy, then I will feel happy. &c. This all seems like common sense, and it might seem difficult to argue against it. But first, is this characterization accurate?

Let me try to diagram it:

"Fake it till you make it":

lack of self-confidence → weakness/failure as the result of lack of self-confidence → self-deception (the "faking it") about weakness/failure → boost in self-confidence as a result of self-deception (faking) → overcoming of weakness/failure as a result of boost in self-confidence ("making it")

Again, is this an accurate characterization?

The Problem:

If I were to take issue with this, it would be with that most pesky moral principle for us pragmatic moderns: the principle that the end does not justify the means. The end, overcoming weakness and failure, is good. Unquestionably. The means, "faking it until you make it," seems to work, but there is something else to consider: is the means good?

The problem with the means is that it involves deception (faking; self-deception or deception of others). Can deception be excused if it accomplishes something positive? It would seem, based on the writings of the saints and spiritual guides, that it cannot. In fact, with almost unanimity, they list self-deception as one of the chief enemies of moral and spiritual growth. It would seem, then, apart from the fact that lying itself is intrinsically disordered, deception cannot bring about long-term good, no matter if we can make it useful in the short-term.

Fr. Scupoli, in The Spiritual Combat, specifically mentions self-confidence as an obstacle to spiritual growth. The purpose of our weaknesses and failures is actually to destroy our confidence in ourselves, since our illusion of self-confidence is the means by which we fall into them in the first place. Real personal, moral, spiritual growth does not come by deceiving ourselves into feeling more confident in our abilities, but rather in relinquishing all confidence in our abilities, and placing total confidence in God. Fr. Scupoli:

God permits us to fall only that we may gain a deeper insight into ourselves, that we may learn to despise ourselves as wretched creatures and to desire honestly to be disregarded by others. Without this we cannot hope to obtain distrust of self which is rooted in humility and the knowledge of our own weakness. Whoever seeks to approach the eternal truth and fountain of all light must know himself thoroughly.

Thus, our impulse to action and change, by which we overcome our weaknesses and failures, is not from self-deception or an optimistic illusion about what we are capable of, but from a real knowledge of Who God is and what He can do and wishes to do in us. Having confidence in God requires no deception, as He is perfect and trustworthy already. To have confidence in Him is simply to recognize the truth about Who He is.

My problem with "fake it till you make it," then, is not about whether it sometimes works, but whether it is good, or whether it is aimed at our ultimate good. Call me an optimist, but I believe truth is the answer.