COMMITMENT:  Walking the Walk

with Epilogue

     I do this all the time.  Erika asks me to speak to you.  I wait until the last minute to choose a topic; then I just blurt out something.  Later, I ask myself what was I thinking.  This time is no different.  I must have lost my mind.  I don’t even like to think about commitment, let alone talk about it.  It gives me a headache. 

     On the surface, the word seems fairly benign.  Well, it’s not.  It comes from the Latin word committere which means “to bring together.”  That comes from the combination of com, “together,” and mittere, “to put, place, or send.”  So, if you say you are committed to a cause or an organization, you put yourself with that cause or organization.  You stand shoulder to shoulder with others who share your commitment.  According to Sartre, in order to be committed to something or someone, you would have to be “emotionally and morally engaged.”

     The Latin etymology implies that Free Will is involved.  A decision is made and an action is taken.  I picture Colonel Travis drawing a line in the sand at the Alamo and requiring that all who are willing to commit themselves to the cause of independence step across.   We choose to commit ourselves to a cause, or to a creed, or to a task, or to a person.  No one can force you, coerce you, or persuade you to commit yourself to something or someone.  You can be assigned to do something; you can be contracted to fulfill an obligation, but making a commitment means that you are emotionally engaged and have the resolve to see it through to the end.  I think it is a very big deal.  

     With that Free Will aspect in mind, it’s curious that the practice of using legal means to force a person into a mental hospital against the will or over the protests of that person is also referred to as “being committed.” 

     A few months ago, I was talking with my friend, Mike, about the state of politics in this country, and he said something that startled me and made me think.  He said, “If people in this country were really committed to restoring sanity and American values to our government, we’d be doing what the Ukrainians are doing.  We’d be 50 million strong in the streets of Washington every single day and night until we forced things to change.  We don’t have enough commitment.”  I was blown away by that statement.  It is so true.  I marched in a few peace marches.  I wrote a few letters.  And I hate what’s going on.  But go to Washington?  How long would I have to be there?  I’d lose my job.  Where would I stay?  What about my clients?  People who count on me?   Would it do any good any way?  Maybe I could stay here and be just as effective.  Well, of course, not if I don’t do anything. I haven’t done one single act to express my views since the election.  I’m tired of all of it.  Or defeatist.  I’ve become complacent instead of committed.   Complacent may actually be too kind.  I’ve become stagnant.   I’m perfectly willing to talk the talk (in certain circles), but I lack the commitment to walk the walk.

     Meanwhile, the commitment of the Religious Right has exploded into fervor.  Politics has never been tame, but it’s become much more exciting now that it’s the setting for a Crusade.  “Liberals are at war with God.  We will reclaim the courts, the Congress, and the Left-Wing media from the infidels!!!  Follow me!!”  [I believe that’s a direct quote from Bill Frist.]  They’ve graduated from being  Christians to being zealots.  Whether we agree or not, it’s undeniable that those folks are committed.  They are emotionally engaged and filled with the resolve to make things happen.   Of course, it’s way easier to be a zealot when you truly believe that God is on your side.  All Unitarians have to rely on is Thoreau, and he’s dead. 

     Speaking of Unitarians, what about being committed to living our Unitarian principles?  Do we walk the walk where they’re concerned?  I couldn’t find the proof, but I remember hearing Davidson Loehr, the wonderful sermonizer at the big UU church in Austin, say that he hates the UU principles.  He doesn’t even consider himself to be a UU.  He describes himself as a “religious liberal.”  For one thing, I think he has a problem with “the inherent worth and dignity of every person.”  On the surface, one would think that no Unitarian could find fault with that lofty ideal, but Davidson was a photographer in the Vietnam War and has been around the block a few times.  I think he feels that the “inherent worth and dignity” of some individuals vacated the premises during childhood and were replaced by sadism and sociopathy.    In that category, he neither talks the UU talk nor walks the UU walk, and I imagine, never will.

     UU principle #5 exalts the “democratic process . . . in society.”  I’m having a difficult time “affirming and promoting” that one.   Look at our democratic process today.  Look at the people our enlightened populace are putting in charge of our wonderful country.   Look at the hateful, partisan, ideologically narrow-minded laws they’re passing.  I’ve pretty much given up on stemming the tide of right-wing radicalism that is metastasizing in Washington.  In Austin, we’re trying on a very small scale to bypass the system that is diverting money away from social services and into the pockets of the war effort and corporations; instead we’re trying to create a revenue stream model that will empower the poor and disenfranchised to take care of each other.  I am sure that eventually, things will change politically, and the wisdom of the Constitution will prevail.  It always has, in spite of missteps.  But right now, the democratic process in our country is flailing in a toxic morass, struggling for air.  I assume it’s doing ok in this congregation, however. 

     Then, there’s the ever-present “interdependent web.”  My friend, Mike, who made the comment to me about how we should be protesting in Washington, said something else that made me feel guilty.  (it doesn’t take much).  He said every time he sees an SUV with a “We Support Our Troops” ribbon magnet on it, he wants to pull the driver out of the vehicle, slam him/her up against the side of it and say, “Don’t you get it?”  I have a client / friend who lives in my house.  He has no car; he gets around on a bicycle or the bus.  If he has to, he bums a ride with somebody, but that is a very last resort.  Why don’t I do that?  I love riding the bus and my bike.  But instead, I say, “It takes too long.”  “I have to transport boxes of training materials.”  “I live south and work north; it’s too far.”   All worthy excuses.  But even when I have the time, I don’t take the bus.  Even when it’s just a short trip, I generally don’t take my bike.  I sigh, and continue to put $3 a gallon gas in my pickup that gets 23 miles per gallon.  I talk the talk, but I literally do not walk the walk.

      I say I affirm and promote those ideals.  My job (helping people find employment) is related to #1, the inherent worth and dignity of every person, and I spend a good deal of personal time doing things that relate to that, but I don’t feel I have “committed” myself to that service, although a year ago, when I was working 90 hours a week on behalf of my clients, I felt more committed to them and responsible for them than I do now.   My friend, Doug, whom most of you have met, says I over-commit, but I think it’s more accurate to say I over-obligate myself.

     For me, “commitment” implies a totality of purpose, a concentration of energy toward one goal, forsaking all others, a mission. I think of the terrorists who were so committed to their ideology that they were willing to sacrifice their lives for it.  And it seems that the number of people willing to do that is growing.  Where does that intensity come from?  I have Christian clients and friends who exude a similar if less homicidal sense of mission.  Their faith is evident in practically everything they say and do.  It makes me a bit uncomfortable when they go on and on about their faith, taking for granted that I am on the same path, but their commitment to that belief system is impressive.  They get all soft and glowy when they talk about it.  That little light definitely does shine through. 

     I see the same unconscious softening of the face when I ask people how they met their partner.  I love to ask that question.   Even people who are going through a divorce or who detest the person now, will soften when they think back to the first meeting, the first date, the first kiss, the moment when they knew that this was somebody special.    We’ve all known people who say they fell in love at first sight.  How does that work?  How could anybody possibly commit themselves emotionally to spending the rest of their life with somebody whom they don’t know?  Talk about a leap of faith!

     I thought that this part, talking about being committed to someone in a relationship would be the easiest part to talk about.  But of course, it turned out to be the most difficult, because it’s too personal.  And I don’t like personal.  Some of you are going to gag when I say this, but I am an Aquarius.  After reading innumerable 69-cent publications at the grocery store about my astrological characteristics, I have come to the conclusion that I am The Definitive Aquarius.  Listen to these excerpts:  Aquarians have a detached curiosity about people and communities.  Aquarians keep themselves at arm’s length from humanity’s deepest emotions and urges.  Because of their detached outlook, others may accuse them of avoiding intimacy.  One also states, “The typical Aquarian will offer the spare room, a generous loan, or a sympathetic ear without a second thought.”  Well, all of that pretty much sums me up.  I don’t like up close and personal.  I just like nice.

     I’ve discussed the fact that commitment involves being emotionally engaged.  In a two-person committed relationship, that implies intimacy, sharing from the heart.  One definition of commitment is “entrusting to the care of.”  In a committed relationship, each has entrusted his or her heart to the care of the other.  For some of you, that has worked out great.  All your hearts are in good hands.  For others, not so.  And because it was not so, you are reluctant to walk that same path.  As our President has said, “Fool me once, shame on . . . . .  you.  Fool  . . . If you fool me, you can’t fool me again.”

     Being committed to another person in a relationship implies to me a certain amount of sacrifice.  According to the wisdom of Wikipedia, “in personal relationships, commitment can be characterized as interaction dominated by obligations.  Personal commitment is a relationship of obligation to an individual.”

Generally, this is a sacrifice gladly made.  Most of us when in a committed relationship would rather be with that one person more than with anybody else, so not going to the Mall with friends or not going on a cruise alone isn’t even an issue.  That approach works well as long as our lives and various commitments are neatly arranged in silos. 

     Having grown up in Wisconsin, the image of silos is one I particularly like.  Our lives are clearly represented by a cluster of silos.  One is our work life; one,  family; one, hobbies; one, spirituality; one, health; one, relationships.  Each silo is filled with various aspects, sub-groups, components of the silo category, but often one piece of the silo category has worked its way to the top of the heap, deserving more commitment or attention than the others.  For example, in the Family Silo, our kids are grown, living in another state, and doing fine, but an aging parent is ill and immediately rises to the top of the silo requiring time and attention normally applied elsewhere.  We have obligations in all silo categories, but often we are not emotionally engaged nor are we willing to dedicate ourselves to whatever it is for an extensive length of time.

     What happens when our various commitments collide?  That is a compelling conundrum that has frustrated us since, I’m sure, prehistoric days and has been the theme of literature and movies for centuries.  Look at “Casablanca,” for example.  Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman had a committed relationship:  emotional engagement and the willingness to be together forever, a more committed relationship than she had with her husband.  But Bogey’s commitment to the cause of freedom trumped it.  “The lives of two little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this world.”  I don’t believe that Ingrid agreed with that.  I think she would’ve left her husband, said so long to the underground resistance movement, and lived happily ever after with Bogey in their own little silo if she’d been able to write the ending. 

     I was a Boy Scout leader for many years and used to be asked frequently to serve on Eagle Scout Boards of Review.  After a Scout has fulfilled all the requirements for the rank of Eagle, he still has to come before a Board of adults and answer questions regarding what Scouting has taught him and how he plans to help others along the same path.  Often, the Scout first has to recite the Boy Scout Oath and Promise in which he promises (commits himself) to do his duty to God and Country.  I always liked to ask what he would do if those two allegiances were at variance with one another.  What if his country insisted he go to war and violate God’s law by killing someone.  It generally became clear that such a dilemma had never been considered. 

     A similar difficult scenario:  A couple has a child with a serious disability requiring extensive personal care.  One parent resents the time the other spends with the child, time diverted from the committed romantic relationship.  Most people faced with such a Sophie’s choice decision would sadly sacrifice the marriage in favor of the child.  If the “child,” the entity taking all the time away from the adult relationship is a demanding job, however, I suspect all of us would say give up the job in favor of the committed relationship. 

     Remember the old joke that asks something like:  What is the difference between a contribution and a commitment?  The answer is:  Picture a typical ham and eggs breakfast.  The chicken made a contribution.  The pig made a commitment.

     A commitment is a Very Big Deal.  Before a person makes a commitment, he needs to consider, “what am I willing to sacrifice in order to fulfill this obligation?”  Do I have sufficient emotional engagement and the resolve to see it through “till death do us part?”   Do I only want to be the chicken, or am I willing to be the pig?    

     The original sermon ended with the pig, but it all seemed to put a bit of a negative association with the whole commitment thing, so I decided instead to close with the Extinguishing the Flame reading that is used every Sunday at my church in Austin:  We extinguish this flame, but not the light of truth, the warmth of community, or the fire of commitment.  These we carry in our hearts until we are together again.

Epilogue Based on Talkback and Thoughts during the Drive to Austin

     The sermon raised questions about commitment and the sacrifice that generally accompanies any commitment, but offered no answers.  On the way home, thinking about the talkback comments, I realized that I should have provided some direction on how to deal with the commitment dilemma.  It occurred to me that some people have “the fire of commitment” and feel so strongly about an issue that they would protest in the streets of Washington, or be willing to be arrested, or devote their lives to a cause.  A perfect example in the UFL is Marolen Mullinax, who became so committed to the AIDS children in Romania that she packed her bags and went there to help them.  How many of us could walk that same walk?

     Those of us who are unable or unwilling to make that kind of huge sacrifice make countless small decisions every day, weighing the importance of our various commitments against the sacrifices required for each.  Ultimately, each of us makes a choice, takes a stand, and acts.  A thousand small acts, based on ideals and integrity, that eventually add up to a life of commitment.