| Apr. 23rd, 2005 @ 09:56 am A Man for All Seasons |
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Current Mood:  contemplative
When I woke up this morning "A Man For All Seasons" was on TV. This is one of my all time favorite plays. I first became aquainted with this play in high school. I loved it then. It's funny, some years removed now, I am noticing that this play and all the other books I read for that class have proved to be the most influential in my life. It's lessons I have internalized and try to make them my own, on a day to day basis. The play deals with conscience and how one accepts their own conscience, and more importantly the responsiblity of conscience. The main character is Sir Thomas More, who sacrificies his life for the preservation of his conscience/beliefs. Yah. big heady stuff. There are a number of good quotes in it, from law and politics to faith and honor, but one of my favorites, one that I have commited to memory and dwell on often is:
(addressing a friend) "and when you are sent to paradise for following your conscience, and I am damned for not following mine, will you come with me then, for fellowship?"
As far as I can tell this was actually said by More, and isn't a result of dramatic license. It's a bold statement and one even harder to live by. It is so easy, at times, to sway from your beliefs, even for little matters such as vanity or pride (forgetting harm to oneself). I know I for one have violated it on occasion, moments that in hindsight I am not proud of. Judjing by the feelings of unease at the time of the transgression I can only surmise that they were willful acts. Why have I swayed from what I know is right? To protect my standing with others? To acheive some hoped for gain? Will the ill gotten gains be remembered years later when their effects have worn off? Or will the mark of a moral failure still sting, diluting and spoiling all that comes after it?
Then the question becomes one of loyalty. Do you owe it to yourself at all costs, even if the result is the loss of yourself? I realize we live in easier times than 16th century England and that most of us, thankfully, aren't called to such grave acts of conscience. But I also feel people, myself, are the product of little actions: the mechanizations of the daily grind, what we do when no one is looking or more importantly what we choose NOT to do. It is the sum of these experiences that makes the (wo)man.
How can one live a full life, if that life is built upon betrayal of oneself? |
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