February 20, 2007

Dear Colleague:

    Every night I turn on public television to watch the news. But this being a capitalist society, I have to watch a lot of commercials first. One commercial that both irritates and baffles me is from Pacific Life insurance. It shows a vigorous gray-haired couple getting on a small seaplane, which takes them into the air, and from the air they watch whales romping in the ocean below. A male voice-over intones: "My wife and I have always wanted to live our golden years this way, and now it is all possible, thanks to Pacific Life." What baffles me, and makes me feel bad, is that my fellow humans are so modest in what they require of life. Compared with this couple, dressed—by the way—in warm Prada duffle coats, I am a monster of immodesty. Only St. Augustine was worse. He it was who said, "If I can have immortality, that will be something good. But it is not enough." Immortality is not enough? What about watching whales from a chartered seaplane? The commercial reminds me of other manifestations of human modesty. Take the oldsters who retire to Florida, live in nice condos, and spend all their time gossiping and playing bingo. One moment, I feel contempt. Another, I am on my knees in awe of their humble view of themselves. Then I think of life in the university, the kind of life I am most familiar with. I am just astounded by the modesty of my colleagues. It has always been there, but it is now more evident--more out in the open--than ever. True, there are still a number of the prideful who chase after Truth, to the neglect of nearly everything else. But more and more simply want merit raise, promotion ahead of their fellows, extra research funds, less teaching, and so on. Again, as with the Pacific-Life couple and the bingo-addicted retirees in Florida, I marvel at faculty who ask to so little of themselves and of society.

    Now I turn to the saints, who are supposed to be humble, but who in fact think so highly of themselves that they disdain what Pacific Life or the department's Budget Committee has to offer. It is not that they fail to see the attraction of retirement in Florida or academic emoluments. It is just that these baubles are not enough—not nearly enough. Educators believe that youngsters should have role models. In America, they might be Michael Jordan, Jesse Jackson, a rock star or an athletic hero—even a scientist. Success, following the footsteps of these models, is to have a four-bedroom house with two SUVs in the garage, membership in an esteemed country club, voted "best employee" by one's peers. What would Henry Suso (1295-1366) say? He would be astonished by our modest wants. For he wrote, "God has not called his servants to a mediocre, ordinary life, but rather to the perfection of sublime holiness, since he said to his disciples, "Be ye perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.'" In our time, Mother Teresa reiterated this admonition when she urged her followers to "aim very high, not like Abraham or David or any of the saints, but to be like our heavenly Father." And, lastly, there is the secular saint of our own time, Nelson Mandela, who in his inaugural address of 1994 urged his fellow Africans not to be afraid of their genius. "It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world." In other words, your execrable modesty is your downfall. Not exactly what the world teaches, right?

Best wishes,

Yi-Fu