Tiger Woods not too long ago won his 9th Masters on the Tour. For someone who plays golf that well, we're not surprised to see him in front of the camera confessing that "from the moment I step up to the 1st tee, until I sink it on the 18th, the crowd, my caddy, and everybody else disappears. I play to win."
I suppose we could say he wins because he's fine-tuned both mind and muscle according to the conditions of the game, in other words, the rules: "Get that little ball in the little hole using iron clubs with as few hits as possible." No doubt, there's something exhilarating about dropping a forty foot oblique putt on the 3rd stroke that makes us mutter, "Now that's playin' some golf."
Now let me place my aging grandmother next to Tiger and ask all of you, "Which of these two can play golf effortlessly?" Even had my Grandma Eleanor been on the WPGA in the 40's, there wouldn't be any hesitation in the answer to this one. But I don't just mean playing in a laid-back fashion without breaking a sweat; I mean performing with excellence, as we imagine the game was meant to be played. In this sense, we wouldn't debate whether or not Mr. Woods is in a class of his own — the money list shows it.
But suppose Tiger turns clear 90 degrees around on the first tee, and sends the ball into the lake; and flashing that Colgate smile, turns towards the crowd and says, "Wasn't it beautiful?" Would there be wild cheers and camera flashes just because Tiger hit the ball? His caddy, towel on shoulder, sheepishly approaches to point out the direction of the fairway. The pro snaps back: "Don't impose your values on me, pal; in my book, winning the game means always hitting the ball into the duck pond." A murmur runs through the crowd; somebody calls security. The clubhouse managers at Augusta frantically chip away at the plaque with Wood's name already glued to the crystal Masters Cup. How would any onlooker describe this scene? "Tiger's lost a screw." We all say this because we judge his actions by the universal standard of good golf. Yes, it's ludicrous to intentionally mulligan your first stroke. A few more of those surprises and Tiger will inevitably fall from the top of the point standings into obscurity and disgrace.
Now, let's zoom out for a second. On the level of the game of life we start to see some parallels. We can't claim such a stringent standard of behavior for a golfer, and yet deny that there's one for a human being who may or may not ever pick up a club. There's no doubt that every now and then we see someone in action that makes us mutter, "That Joe there, now he's a good guy."
How do we suppose Joe got onto the pedestal of "the admired one?" We can safely suppose that Joe has understood the rules of life, and trained his intelligence, determination, and physique… in order to win. His high point standing is explained by his virtue, that is, good acts, done over and over again, not just because "that's what the rules say," but simply because they are good acts. Sound familiar? It's life's equivalent of finishing the 18th hole at about nine under par, because you love golf and love to do it right. Joe seems free to live life right, almost without breaking a sweat because that's something he's already done — training himself in virtue — so now he's got what it takes.
Now, we can safely say that there are ludicrous things for a fellow to do, as a human being: neglect one's family, become an alcoholic, you name it. Now Bob, on the lower end of life's point standing, can kick and scream and insist he's doing the right thing… but if his friends are as anywhere as honest as Tiger's caddy, they will tell Bob not how happy they are that he's discovered his own values, but quite frankly that he did something very stupid, and that many more actions of that sort will render Bob less able to win in life than Grandma Eleanor is to win the PGA Masters tomorrow. In other words, Bob isn't really free, at least as far as excellent performance in living is concerned and not surprisingly, like a horrible golfer, he will hate the game: he will hate life.
A life worth living is one that finishes "under par", crowned in virtuous action; something so good, that it's well worth the trouble to go pick up the rule book, point ourselves in the direction of the green, and…
Wait a second. How do you learn to excel at the game of life if there's no referee to be seen, and no Rulebook of Existence on sale at Borders? A lot of it is simply about using your noodle: "I must exist for some purpose" is a thought we have all had at some time or other; "I want to be happy" is another, that's probably come even more often, only worded differently.
Regarding the first thought, a person in the middle of a big city sees so many amazing things that mankind has created, and concedes without batting an eye that there was a reason behind the construction of every bridge, high-rise, and egg-beater. What's more, if that bridge can hold up against high winds, she will call it a good bridge, because it does what it was supposed to do. She will also recognize a similar reason behind the construction of natural things: a pair of eyes with 20/20 vision doesn't need glasses; they're "good eyes".
Then there's the desire to be happy: that quiet, lingering motivation behind all of our actions. None of us will deny that we work to get a good salary in order to provide for our family, go on vacation…but why? Keep asking the question, "Why do I do that?" and every answer you give will bring you to the point where you have no more answers to give: that's when you've reached "…because I want to be happy." There isn't any "reason" on our ordinary list of motives as to why we seek happiness, nor should there be one.
This is because happiness isn't simply another good thing; rather, we can call it the ultimate good. We all try to set up our lives in the way that will get us there — the quicker the better.
We may start to see a connection between these two ideas: if something functions as it's supposed to, it's good; but our desire to be happy is also good. Don't look now, but the two goods coincide. In other words, if a human person acts as he is supposed to, according to his purpose, that person will be good, and most definitely happy.
Okay. It seems the game of life can be played and won by becoming proficient in "doing-what-I'm-made-to-do," that thing normally called virtue. But hold on there; that sounds awfully robotic — as if we were programmed to cut grass and wash dishes in a way that's far short of human. This is where we have to distinguish what the "what-I'm-made-to-do" part means.
Everything achieves its ultimate good by doing exactly that: what it's made to do. But the catch is that all other animals besides human beings do that anyway. Lions hunt wildebeests, monkeys eat bananas, and salmon swim upstream during breeding season. We might add that they do these things naturally, and that's no exaggeration. But let's not think "naturally" means "without effort:" hunting wildebeests is exhausting, and the salmon die when they reach their destination. But there's something that spurs them on to do what they do best; we call that natural instinct, directed towards either the survival of the species or the individual.
Now, with human beings, it gets interesting. As any healthy person can testify from experience, he or she has an intellect that is capable of reasoning, self-consciousness, and discovering purpose, goodness, and beauty. This is a plus regarding the rest of the animal kingdom; moreover, that person experiences the ability to choose between one option or another, to act or not to act. This is a sign of what we call a "free will". Two up on the animals.
It's using these two marvelous powers — intellect and choice — in tandem that enables a person to reach her ultimate good and total happiness — and that's just where it gets tricky. Remember how the animals act entirely according to their instinct and thus fulfill their purpose; they get the easy way out, so to speak. But the human's unique task is to identify her purpose with the intellect, and then choose what gets her there with the will. This ability is precisely what makes every individual person so noble and exalted; so much so, that we've given it a special name: dignity.
Yes, there is a greatness that man aspires to, and one that's far above wielding a nine-iron; when he can say — from an even wider perspective than Tiger — "When I focus on my ultimate purpose, the crowd, and every other distraction disappears, because life is worth my best shot." It's what they used to call a moral greatness, where a man is great because he somehow reflects what we imagine a human person was always meant to be, because the Creator always imagined him that way: happy and supremely fulfilled.
