Being Nice.

I am eternally thankful for my courageous friends.

For every mercy I have received in life, none have been greater than those which have helped to correct or curb whatever fatal flaws I may have. Some friends have courageously plucked me up and chastised me for whatever stupidity I might be engaging in. Others have lived by an example so powerful that I could not help but be impressed -- and inspired to emulate. (It's an ongoing process...)

Some I have met in the flesh -- others have spoken to me through the decades (or the ages) via great books and wise words and beautiful music.

One truth rings out at me daily: that I am my brother's keeper. Had others not believed this simple truth, I'd be in a much sorrier state in life, be it my moral life or professional career. If they had the courage to live this creed on my behalf, then I would be a coward to do otherwise.

I recently lost a friend. This person chose to remove their person from my life because I happen to state "contentious" opinions in a written forum. Despite every kindness and patience I had shown this person in reality, they found my "crazy" and "illogical" opinions on such issues as abortion to be too much to deal with (even though we never once debated them personally.) They had to "remove such negativity" from their lives.

In sorrowing over this lost friendship, I was reminded by a friend that "anger is often the first response to truth." In listening to a talk by Fr. Corapi today -- a great warrior in his own right -- I was reminded that "I am my brother's keeper." Fr. Corapi reminded me that losing a friendship is not as painful as losing self-respect, or as painful as sitting idly by why insanity reigns, or as painful as losing my very soul.

Why do I blog? Well, partly -- and to be honest -- it helps relieve inner frustrations, all while getting the creative juices flowing for composition. Before blogging existed, I had saved many pages of commentaries, all necessary venting before the deeper expression. (Yes, for better or worse, I've been critiquing society and writing commentaries since the first grade.)

Yet I've discovered that such simple public postings go much deeper. We all have particularly keen abilities and viewpoints, "angles on truth" if you will. We have them in order to share them, and in sharing them, I have found immense blessings in return.

What is our greatest calling in life? To be our brother's keeper. C.S. Lewis reminds us that there are only two paths in life -- that to eternal glory, or eternal horror. Our every interaction with another person, be it trivial or otherwise, pushes them in one of two directions. When all is said and done, even those straddling the fence will be blown in only one direction. (Think of that the next time you cut somebody off in busy traffic!)

It is a painful reality, and one that we all sense in some level of our being. Some embrace it and live accordingly, others run and deny for as long as they have breath. Yet one thing has become clear to me:

Being nice -- or "tolerant" -- earns no points in eternity. Absolutely none.

Martin Luther King Jr wasn't "nice" or tolerant. He was a brilliant firebrand. Gandhi may have been passive, but he wasn't tolerant -- he fought evil with the fierce fire of peace. None of the great preachers or prophets were "nice guys."

In fact, as Father Corapi reminds us, most Churches would send a modern-day Jesus Christ into sensitivity training. In seeking to emulate the greats -- as we should -- we soon learn that niceness and tolerance don't go very far. Only goodness reigns, and goodness can be difficult.

Our initial brushes with Truth (capital T) reveal a cold, hard reality. There is no tolerance for "interpretations," no room for semantics, no expectations of niceness. There is only the necessity for change, the need to let go, and, in the end, only...

Joy.

A friend once reminded me that "nice guys don't go to heaven. But good men do." Being "good" necessarily entails that you live courageously (even when you're afraid), and virtually guaruntees that you'll ruffle some feathers along the way. Do it anyways, and trust in posterity to correct the collateral damage.

When I write, I don't do it to ruffle feathers, or to express egotism, or to alienate friends. I do it to humbly pass along the wisdom which has found itself at my doorstep, the very same wisdom that I struggle daily to accumulate into my very flawed life. If there is fire to my words, it is because I also do it in defiance of an age where opinion has trumped reason, while belief is eroniously held to be a private matter.

I do it because I am my brother's keeper, whether I like it or not.