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Today I again stumbled on an old article I bookmarked/miniblogged on November 6, 2008 (two days after Obama won the election). Titled The American void, Simon Critchley wrote about the role of belief and faith in Obama’s worldview, and the nature of his conversion to Christianity. It was the musings on the “anthropologist’s distance” that really caught my attention back then.

What I want to touch on in this post is what is discussed in this paragraph:

Why do we need religion? Obama recognizes that people turn to religion because they want “a narrative arc to their lives, something that will relieve a chronic loneliness or lift them above the exhausting, relentless toil of daily life.” The alternative is clear: nihilism. The latter means “to travel down a long highway toward nothingness.” Religion satisfies the need for a fullness to experience, a transcendence that fills the void. Obama’s path to Christianity plays out against the background of his anthropologist mother’s respectful distance from religion.

It connects with a previous post of mine, Our Narratives.

Naturally Critchley’s assertions above are informed by his philosophical views. Critchley is a philosopher. Borrowing wikipedia’s summary:

Critchley argues that philosophy commences in disappointment, either religious or political. These two axes may be said largely to inform his published work: religious disappointment raises the question of meaning and has to, as he sees it, deal with the problem of nihilism; political disappointment provokes the question of justice and raises the need for a coherent ethics.

Thus the concerns discussed and the dangers of nihilism may carry less relevance to those not inclined to this kind of “intellectual noodling”, those simply getting on with their lives. Not everyone’s experience of daily life is that of exhausting, relentless toil.

My first instinct is to assert that everyone living happy and fulfilled lives (a subjective experience) are living out a narrative arc of some sort — they are also found in places other than religion. This is probably not true though. Deep contentment may be found in lives lived in the moment, focused on the experience of the presence. I think Buddhism actively encourages this approach? It certainly remains an idea I should investigate, when I find (make!) the time. Back to narratives though.

Employment, the working life, provides quite a powerful narrative arc for many, if they have ambition, some drive behind a career, somewhere they’re heading. A corporate ladder to climb, some position to reach, maybe a goal to make some kind of impact, be it to build a global empire or to develop and launch a product that makes a difference. Or a narrative of amassing wealth? (What for? Have you a bigger, more “meaningful” goal for all that wealth?) Sometimes over-inflated narrative arcs may pop, leaving the protagonist with a mid-life crisis.

In the services industry, a doctor, a psychologist, a dentist, an electrician or a plumber, can have a narrative arc of helping the rest of us: the world provides a never-ending stream of damsels in distress to be rescued, so post-”happily ever after” there will always be another, to provide another story into which the protagonist can ride her or his white horse and be the hero.

Creatives! A narrative arc? I’m not sure, not in the same fashion as the previous examples. Creatives create, and in their creations, they tell a story. They tell the story of humanity, they put words and images and sculptures and music to the rest of life. They are narrators, designers of experiences for the rest of us. They provide examples in their stories from which the rest of us can learn, can draw from, in the process of writing/living our own narrative arcs.

And building a family or a community, a sphere in which you can also act in a professional role, but this may be your so-called “private life”. The things you do when you’re not getting paid. The building of relationships, the raising of children, the development of communities. Narratives at their best, very much related to the previous examples as well, of course.

From these narratives, we draw the motivation and power to make something of our lives. Narratives aren’t always happy. Sometimes they take a serious turn for the worse, but that also eventually plays into the bigger picture. A creative, creating masterpieces out of pain? (Van Gogh?) An athlete, staging a comeback, a story made more powerful by the setbacks? (Lance Armstrong? Or paraplegics getting back on skis, or climbing mountains!)

Coming back to Obama briefly,

I was drawn to the power of the African American religious tradition to spur social change. Out of necessity, the black church had to minister to the whole person. Out of necessity, the black church rarely had the luxury of separating individual salvation from collective salvation .It had to serve as the center of the community’s political, economic, and social as well as spiritual life; it understood in an intimate way the biblical call to feed the hungry and clothe the naked and challenge powers and principalities. I was able to see faith as more than just a comfort to the weary; rather, it was an active, palpable agent in the world.

A shared narrative arc makes a tribe powerful. Theo Geyser (my favourite pastor) told me about a guy that chose Christianity after what sounded like a bit of comparative religion study, precisely for the reason that it provided an opportunity to more directly be an agent for good in the world.

What I touched on in my previous narratives post was the discovery that when connecting my present to a narrative, it helps me to make something worthwhile out of it. When I set a goal for my training, I train more often. (Next target: a 32km trail run between Greyton and McGregor in October. For that reason, by that narrative, I motivate myself to hit the road before work. Tomorrow.) When it comes to career development or ambition at work, or rather the problem of insufficient ambition, it’s largely a matter of lacking a sense of narrative: where am I heading? Once I develop a better grasp of the narrative, the rest should follow much more easily.