Understanding the human condition

One element of our human reality is our moral awareness. We are able, albeit imperfectly, to distinguish right from wrong. There is another more perturbing element of our reality, however: we are obliged to acknowledge at times a degree of “wrong” both in our conduct and in our inner feelings and desires. To face up to this reality is not a pleasant exercise – but it can be salutary.

The experience of well-known writer and Oxford don C.S. Lewis, when he was a young teacher at the university, shows exemplary honesty. He had a deep antagonism towards the Christian faith, but little by little he saw himself obliged to yield to the unremitting evidence of “Spirit” (as he called God at that time) and he discerned that God was coming closer and closer to him. He admits he was no more in search of God than a mouse was in search of a cat. But he was blessed with a conscientious spirit; where others would have shrugged their shoulders and carried on, he realised he must face reality and he needed a deep remedy. An important step came when, as he wrote in his biographical account, “For the first time I examined myself with a seriously practical purpose. And there I found what appalled me; a zoo of lusts, a bedlam of ambitions, a nursery of fears, a harem of fondled hatreds.” Rare are those who have such insight to the depth of their human reality.

The fact is that all humans suffer from a strange dual reality: we are capable of great compassion and devotion to duty, pouring out our energies into assisting the sick, the needy, the dying. Yet we also feel at times such fury when our wills are crossed that we could seriously harm those who antagonise us. Our inner being is deeply self-centred, imperiously requiring the fulfilling of our selfish desires, claiming the freedom to do as we wish and ready to overcome anyone who stands in our way.

I have previously quoted Blaise Pascal’s brilliant analysis of this dual reality; he says it is dangerous to explain to man his beastliness without pointing out his greatness also. But he adds, “it is also dangerous to make too much of his greatness without his vileness. It is still more dangerous”, he concludes, “to leave him in ignorance of both, but it is most valuable to represent both to him” (Pensée §121/418). 

Maybe now is the time to consider this more personally. We are not, of course, obliged to deny the positive aspects of our reality. But we all need the honesty of a C.S. Lewis to admit how deep evil runs within our hearts. When we acknowledge this, we should know that we are not alone in this destabilising discovery; “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned – every one – to his own way”. This is the universal human condition, and we must understand it, humbling though it is. 

What makes us willing to face it, is knowing that there is a remedy – and there is! If we are “lost sheep”, we may know also that there is a “Good Shepherd” who gave his life to deliver his sheep from the horrors of their unfortunate condition.

Clive Every-Clayton