Dear Reader,
Have you ever had a moment in life when you discovered
something unsettling about yourself? Moments when we believe we are sincerely loving
others; showing compassion, offering service and praying for peace and then shockingly
discover that even our kindness sometimes carries traces of
self-interest?
In such moments are we being dishonest? Can kindness and selfishness exist in the
same person?
I suggest this contradiction is not proof of corruption, but evidence of what it means to be human.
Philosophers like Plato have wrestled with this question for
thousands of years.
Plato described the soul as a chariot pulled by opposing
forces—one reaching upward toward wisdom and virtue, the other pulled downward
by appetite and desire. Human life was not the absence of conflict, but the
struggle to guide these competing impulses toward harmony.
Similarly Aristotle, centuries later, observed that virtue is
not something we permanently possess, but something we repeatedly practice. A
good person is not one without selfish impulses, but one who learns,
imperfectly, to act toward the good despite them.
This struggle did not remain with the Greek philosophers,
Paul in his Epistle to the Romans, confessed:
“For the good that I would I do
not: but the evil which I would not, that I do.”
Here Paul is not merely confessing sin. He recognizes a
divided humanity.
So, when we have such contradictions portrayed in people
today, we must understand we are a mixture of weaknesses and grace: Capable of
betrayal and sacrifice, fear and faith, and pride and profound compassion.
In my own recovery, much of my selfishness was actually rooted
not in malice, but in fear. The fear of
not being enough, fear of losing control, fear of abandonment, and fear of
emptiness.
Yet, even with this weakness, I found I could be deeply
compassionate toward others because my suffering allowed me to understand the
pain of other humans.
Medical Science, surprisingly, points in a similar direction.
Modern neuroscience suggests that the human brain contains
competing systems shaped through evolution. Some parts are oriented toward
survival and self-protection. Others are connected to empathy, cooperation,
bonding, and moral reflection.
We are biologically capable of both self-interest and
altruism because both helped human beings survive.
The conflict itself may be built into us.
Looking deeper the science also reveals something hopeful: the
brain changes through repeated action.
Compassion practiced consistently strengthens pathways
related to empathy and emotional regulation. Habits of gratitude, prayer,
meditation, service, and honesty slowly reshape perception itself.
In other words: we become what we repeatedly choose.
Perhaps this is why spiritual growth often feels slow.
The selfish part of us may never disappear completely.
But neither does the capacity for kindness.
Over time, one voice can grow stronger than the other.
Contemplate maturity as not becoming perfectly pure yet
willing to try!
Each day, strive to become increasingly aware of our motives.
Are our motives driven by fear, or by sincere love and
responsibility? Are our wounds permanent, or can they slowly be healed? Are we being kind out of wants or being responsible
for building positive connections with our fellow brothers and sisters?
A divided heart does not mean love is absent. It sometimes means
love is still learning how to lead.
The greatest miracle is not that human beings are flawless,
but that despite all our contradictions, we remain capable of tenderness, forgiveness,
service, and transformation.
That alone may be one of the strongest signs that something
sacred still lives within us.
