I think that the majority of humankind are gifted with a transformational, internal behavioral regulator, call it conscience, which acts as an ethical if not spiritual compass--GPS for the soul. The world may influence us: our parents, siblings, friends, spouses, teachers, leaders and celebrities, but the clarion call to do right and be good is most emphatic within. This is certainly true when we are small. Little people just know right from wrong. They must fight off the urge of "want" at times, of hollow anger and sadness, but they are pretty clear about fairness and decency and kindness. When we are small, the world is less contextual than emotional. Less political. We bear less baggage, less scar tissue. Our assumptions and aspirations are limited to the important things like love and joy, friendship and happiness.
I remember that nagging sensation, so obvious in childhood, whenever I thought about transgressing the boundaries of right and wrong. I was no angel, and I crossed that line from time to time as kids are prone to do. Even when I did, if I consciously chose to do something I knew to be wrong, or that my parents had expressly forbidden, or that just seemed out of sorts, like treating people poorly, I was burdened with a healthy sense of guilt. It was as if the universe wanted me to feel the difference between right and wrong action in my sinews and between my ears, and most profoundly in my heart. I usually righted my wrongs, but not always. Sometimes, even when really intent on mischief, I backed away--that nagging was just too hard to overcome.
Then it got easier to ignore the urges of conscience. As a teen, I learned to bend truth and talk my way around my conscience, over and through my sense of right and wrong. It became easier to justify my bad behaviors, my untruths, my deceptions. My muted sense of right and wrong bore witness to some profoundly stupid choices. I turned back to a better self in my young adulthood, thanks to my amazing bride and the birth of my sons. Unfortunately, I left a healthy debris field in my adolescent wake. Nothing permanent or unconscionable, but messy nonetheless. I righted wrongs where I could, but most importantly, I worked at tuning up that conscience. Far better to be subject to that nagging voice than be morally prodigal in the face of decency.
In every moment there is a choice to be made, a declaration of our most important values. Some of our choices are ethical, some moral, some simple courtesy--an awareness that others matter too. I've heard it said that our thoughts are private, but our values public. Interesting thought, and certainly true of the idea and action of respect. If the latter be true, we have a clear responsibility to care and nurture the same.
I've always enjoyed Augustine of Hippo's prescription: "Since you cannot do good to all, you are to pay special attention to those who, by the accidents of time, or place, or circumstances, are brought into closer connection with you." Here on campus, a lot of people, young and old, are, by the accidents of time, place, and circumstance, brought into closer connection with us all. There are a thousand moments in every day when a smile, a simple courtesy like holding a door or an earnest greeting, make all the difference for our fellow travelers, and teach the best lessons to our little observers. If we honor the truth that we are all equal, whether in the eyes of God, before the law, or for the sake of common decency and peace, it's easy to be a force for positive change and a spectacular role model for our children. Frustration, displaced anger, the mad rush for work, concerns about family or career, might feel like a great justification to behave poorly. Sorry, that's not how it works.
I'll conclude with the words of a grandfather to his grandson--"Do good and be good, that is enough." Imagine if we fully embrace these simple and profound words. Imagine the new day, for our children, and our beloved Island home.
See you around campus.