Spiritual Common Sense

The first Mentor appeared in Homer’s epic poem, Odyssey. Composed near the end of the 8th century BC, Odyssey is the story of the king of Ithaca who struggles to find his way home after the Trojan War.

In the opening chapter, the goddess Athena disguises herself as Mentor, Odysseus most trusted friend.   Mentor approaches Odysseus’ son, Telemachus, and encourages him to find his father.  In the chapters that follow, Mentor provides guidance, encouragement, and support until Telemachus succeeds.

And so, from a story written nearly three thousand years ago, comes the modern concept and tradition of “mentors.”  The word has evolved to mean a trusted advisor, friend, or teacher.

History provides many examples – including Socrates and Plato, Plato and Aristotle, Aristotle and Alexander, Ghandi and King, Emerson and Thoreau, Warren Buffett and Bill Gates, Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg, Maya Angelou and Oprah Winfrey, among others – but mentoring relationships are not limited to those of note.

Each of us has a birthright of potential that can only be actualized with the help of mentors. Somebody has to believe in us before we can fully believe in ourselves.

In this regard, I have been more fortunate than most.  I am humbled by the quality of my friends and mentors.  Some I sought.  Others found me and chose to invest in my growth and development.

Senator Frank E. Moss brought me to Washington. He sponsored me with a part-time job while I was in school and gave me my first job after I graduated.   He defined integrity and commitment to public service.

Arthur Flemming served in President Eisenhower’s cabinet and had Presidential appointments from four other Presidents.  During the last 20 years of his life, he had a standing reservation for lunch at Twigs, a restaurant near his office.  He held court there, entertaining a revolving cast of regulars and a seemingly endless supply of new friends.  He worked me into the rotation at least once a month.  We talked politics.  We talked religion.  We talked about life.

Mother Teresa changed the trajectory of my life with a single meeting. Henri Landwirth, a holocaust survivor, taught me about love and forgiveness and the way our troubles often fashion us for better things.  Hugh Jones taught me what it means to be true friend, becoming a brother in the process.

In similar fashion, Jane Goodall became a sister.  I met Jane on her 62^nd birthday.  We were scheduled to talk for half an hour and wound up spending the day together, finishing that evening, sitting on the floor of her suite, sharing a bottle of scotch.  I was in awe of her then and even more so now as I have watched her tireless and determined efforts to try heal and save the world.

Bob Macauley, the founder of AmeriCares was a fearless philanthropist who lived and acted on his values.  I treasure the time spent with him in his library talking about the problems of the world.  Seemingly, nothing was beyond his reach.

Fred Matser and Rachel Rossow – one in the Netherlands, the other in Connecticut – taught me, perhaps the most important lesson of all:  There is no distance between souls.

But perhaps most significant in terms of my personal development was Viktor Frankl.  Viktor was the author of 32 books, including Man’s Search for Meaning, identified by the Library of Congress as one of the ten most influential books in the English language.

After reading Man’s Search for Meaning, I sent Dr. Frankl a letter expressing my admiration.  I told him I had stumbled on his book after an extensive period of soul-searching and that I wished I had found it earlier.

This book had a profound impact on me and I told him so.  To my surprise, Dr. Frankl answered my letter with a personal note raising questions that encouraged a response.  We exchanged letters several times after that before I found an opportunity to invite him to come to America to keynote a conference I was helping organize.

I met Viktor at the airport late one afternoon in l986 and peppered him with questions as we drove to town.  I continued my questioning over dinner and then reluctantly said goodnight.

The next morning, Viktor gave a stirring and thought provoking speech, receiving a standing ovation from the three thousand people attending the conference.  After lunch, I walked him back to his room and thanked him for making the long journey from Vienna for one speech.  I said good-bye not knowing when, if ever, I would see him again.

Early the next morning, the phone rang at my home.  When I answered, I heard Viktor’s voice.  He said his return flight did not leave until late in the day and he was wondering if I would mind coming down and spending some time with him.

We spent the entire day together.  Though nothing explicit was said, I could tell he was “working on me.”   Viktor had clearly thought about the questions I had asked the day he arrived and was trying to extend my thinking.  He probed and pushed with the gentle, thoughtful persistence of the good psychiatrist he was.

Afterwards, Viktor periodically sent me the text of something he was working on – a speech or an article – and asked what I thought.  The question was always phrased as though he was seeking my opinion, but I came to know it was more than that. He was looking for a way to extend our dialogue.

In much the same manner, I came to expect a periodic phone call. The ones I liked best were the ones where he said he was going to be somewhere in the United States and wondering if I could I find time to join him.  I jumped on every opportunity.

I could go on…The list of those who have benefited my life is long.  Suffice it to say, there would be little left of me if I subtracted the contributions of others.

Do the ends justify the means?

I have lived in Washington for more than 50 years.  I have never seen a time like this.  The question of ends and means comes up daily:

Do we increase the safety of Americans by banning the entry of people from Muslim countries?

Do we enforce immigration policy by separating mothers from their children?

Do we boost the economy by eliminating environmental protections?

Do we advance our political positions by demonizing those in the other party?

Nicolo Machiavelli was the first to raise the issue of ends and means in a political context in his treatise, The Prince, published in 1513.  Machiavelli said a good leader – The Prince – should choose the most effective means to his ends, be they harmless or cruel and violent.   For him, the only thing that mattered was the outcome.

“In judging policies,” he wrote, “we should consider the results that have been achieved through them, rather than the means by which they have been executed.”

The opposing view was best expressed and embodied by Ghandi and Martin Luther King.  They felt the means and ends must be consistent.  “Darkness cannot drive out darkness,” King said, “Only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

In this context, John McCain’s legacy looms large.  He is being remembered for his humor, humility, and courage.  But he represents more than that.

John McCain knew who he was.  He stood on principle, even when it did not advance his political position; and openly admitted and regretted the times he strayed from principal for political expediency.

McCain’s values were hardened in the crucible of a Vietnamese prisoner of war camp.  There he was tested like few others.   He had ample time – much of it in solitary confinement – to consider what he was living for, what he would die for, who he was, and who he wanted to be.

McCain came to understand that the end that matters most is not so much the goal we want to achieve but how we achieve what we achieve, and what we become in the process.

That’s how John McCain will likely be remembered.  Not so much for what he said, but what he did and how he lived.  He knew the means are the ends.

You cannot lie without become a liar.  You cannot steal without becoming a thief.  You cannot cheat without becoming a cheater.  You cannot live with honor and not be honored.

McCain crossed over.   He chose to be a statesman rather than a politician by devoting his life to a cause greater than himself.  History will remember – as I have told my son – “That’s what a hero looks like.”

Charles Carroll was the last surviving signer of the Declaration of Independence, outliving Jefferson and Adams by 6 years.  He was also the only Roman Catholic to sign the Declaration, and, perhaps, the man who had the most to lose by doing so.

Carroll was the wealthiest man in the colonies at the beginning of the Revolution with a fortune estimated at $2 million dollars.  He lived to see the fiftieth year of American independence and died shortly thereafter, leaving us with these words:

“I do now here recommend to the present and future generations the principles of that important document as the best earthly inheritance their ancestors could bequeath to them, and pray that the civil and religious liberties they have secured in my country may be perpetuated to the remotest posterity and extend to the whole family of man!”

Our Founders promise and Carroll’s bequest have materialized in the greatest nation the world has ever seen.  The principles they established have brought us from thirteen obscure colonies to the world’s only superpower.  They have established new standards of life, liberty, and happiness.

Free men and those yearning to be free still look to the United States as the light of the world and the best hope for liberty.  Our place in the world is unrivaled and unquestioned.

What makes America great?  What is our most valuable asset?  Is it our wealth, our natural resources, or our military might?  Or is our most precious asset the character of our people?

President Eisenhower said, “Whatever America hopes to bring to pass in the world must first happen in the heart of America.”  It follows that whatever change is to come to pass in America must first happen in the heart of its people.

Values are not hereditary.  Great ideals do not live in the hearts and minds of men simply because they are right.  They must be taught.  They must be learned and lived.

At the birth of our nation, a citizen approached Benjamin Franklin and asked, “What kind of government have you given us?”

“A republic,” Franklin replied, “if you can keep it.”

The Republic will endure as long as we continue to cherish the ideals of the men who created it.  From Bunker Hill to Berlin, the best of our blood have fought to defend democracy.  But that is not enough.

The battle for freedom is not reserved for the few or the brave on a distant shore.  The battle for democracy must be fought here, as well as there, day by day, with the knowledge that liberty won today may be lost tomorrow.

“There is a new America every morning when we wake,” Adlai Stevenson said, “and that new America is the sum of many small changes.”  Our task is to guide these changes and decide what kind of America we want it to be.

“We the people.”  The story of America is our story.  America will be whatever we are.

There is a lot of talk about how divided our nation is these days.  It seems like that’s all we see on television and in the news.

Are we really that far apart?

Consider the following statistics taken from recent Gallup and Pew research polls:

• 76% of all Americans support allowing undocumented immigrants brought to the country as children (Dreamers) to stay in the country.
• 71% of all Americans support more government spending for education.
• 60% of all Americans support expanding Medicare to provide health insurance to every American.
• 63% of all Americans favor making four-year public colleges and universities tuition-free.
• 76% of all Americans are concerned about climate change.
• 82% of all Americans think economic inequality is a “big” problem.
• 80% of all Americans say corporations don’t pay their fair share of taxes.
• 78% of all Americans say wealthy people don’t pay their fair share of taxes.
• 73% of all Americans support banning assault-style weapons.
• 94% of all Americans support requiring background checks for all gun buyers.

Given this broad consensus on these and other issues, why is it so difficult to get anything done in Washington?

Democrats blame Republicans. Republicans blame Democrats.

…And they are both right.  They are equally responsible for refusing to change a system that benefits them both.

In the dependence movement, they have a principal called “the first problem.” The addict invariably has a host of other problems but you have to deal with his addiction before you can deal with anything else.

In Washington, the “first problem” is Congress.  In 2016, the average Congressional race cost $1.8 million while the average Senate race cost more than $10 million. Most people – including Members of Congress – don’t have that kind of money. So, if they want to get elected, they have to get it from somewhere.  History shows there are always people who will give it to them, but these people are always going to want something in return. It turns politicians into prostitutes.

That’s the bottom line. We are not going to be able to deal with all the other problems our country faces until we deal with Congress’ addiction to easy money and the lobbyist who deal in it. The only way to drain the swamp is to turn off the faucet.

“There is no laughter today. Rob has passed away.”

That notice was posted on Rob’s Facebook page yesterday.  It hit me like a ton of bricks.

Rob was one of my kids.  When we began The Heart of America Foundation 20 years ago, our explicit purpose was to inspire the development of young people like Rob and the 120 other ambassadors who were his spiritual kin.  He was our Peter – the rock we built the Heart of America on.

Rob was seventeen when we met.  He was in the first class of young adults we honored with a National Caring Award in 1990.  When we asked his high school counselor what he was like, she said, “Rob dares to be different.”   We soon found out she was right.

Rob was the only person I know who stopped every day, wherever he was, to watch the sunset.   Many people talk about smelling the roses. Rob did.

Next to my mom, he was the most positive and joyful person I have ever met.  Rob said it was because he had a near-death experience when he was child.  It gave him a deep appreciation for the gift of life and a determination to live every day to the fullest.

He came to our attention when we learned he had developed a drug prevention program for his high school.  He had also formed a crisis hot line and was credited with successfully intervening in four instances when one of his classmates was considering suicide.  In a world where we often hear what’s wrong with the younger generation, Rob embodied all that was right.

When we met at the Caring Awards, I asked him what he wanted to do.  He said he wanted to be a clown and hoped someday to headline the Big Apple Circus.  Frankly, I had trouble taking seriously until he showed up on my doorstep that summer.  He was on his way to the Ringling Brothers Clown College in Florida.

The next time I saw him he was traveling north.  He had landed a job with the Clyde Beatty Circus.  Each spring and fall thereafter, with this circus or that, traveling north or south, Rob passed through Washington and we spent some time together.

Every fall when he came through, I gave him a coat.  I did so knowing Rob would only wear it until he found someone who needed it more.

That was his nature.  Rob had no interesting material things.   He shopped at thrift stores so that someone would benefit from the things he bought. The clothes he bought were worn for a while and then donated back or passed on – like my coats – to someone he met along the way.

“For me, sharing is just part of living,” Rob said. “We are all pretty much the same.  We all have the same basic core needs.  We all need to be loved and appreciated.  We all want to feel important to someone. It doesn’t matter the race, religion or sex of a person, we all feel the same things.”

Rob went on to work for Disney, here and in Japan, and then started traveling the world with his one-man show.   In 2010, he came through Washington again.   This time it was in fulfillment of one of his of his life-long dreams – he was on his way to New York as a headliner with the Big Apple Circus.

Memories of our time together cascade through my mind.  I remember the quiet times – just sitting and talking – and I remember the silly times, like traveling down the highway with an empty egg carton attached to the roof of the car, smiling and waving at the concerned people we passed; “loosing” a baby carriage on a hill to see how people would react; or teaching our son how to balance a hat or an eight-foot ladder on his chin (Rob swore the principle was the same).

Like every good performer, Rob commanded attention.  Whenever we went out to eat it was only a matter of time before he “owned” the place.  Every child in the restaurant and every waitress under the age of 30 would soon gather around, drawn to him by some magic beyond description.  All of them left with a piece of Rob – a table napkin shaped into a rose, a balloon animal, or some new skill, like how to balance a spinning plate on your finger.

That’s how I like to think of him now.  I know there are pieces of Rob all around the world; owned and treasured by the thousands of people he met.  He loved and wanted nothing more than that.   He just wanted to make people happy.   He was, in the words of one show critic, “The International Man of Mirth.

While there is no laughter today, there will always be joy when I think of Rob.