Looking Up and Down

I was discussing with my dad how I wanted to start an intellectual club this summer: we would meet at cute little coffee shops, read some Billy Collins, discuss an article from Patrick Henry Reardon or another great Christian thinker of the day, maybe debate current political issues. I thought he'd be thrilled. But instead he asked, "So what are you guys going to do for others?"

The question struck me as absurd. Who cares? We were in our profound little coffee shop, having profound little conversations about profound little thoughts. What did the rest of society matter? I thought he was being overly pragmatic, failing to recognize the beauty of argumentation and intellect.

Did Jesus tell his followers to form an intellectual group and discuss the importance of loving neighbors? No; he simply told them to do it. Did he tell them to think about the aesthetic value of going and telling peoples of the world the Good News? No; he just told them to do it.

I'm an idealist and philosophizer: I try to create profundity out of virtually anything, and I often find myself disillusioned with the postmodern world. Yet at times I get so wrapped up in my profundity that I became selfish. I like my deep thoughts; I don't like exiting my deep world of contemplation to look out for others. Ironic as it seems, idealism and contemplation can cause a person to reach a point of sole self-interest.

A man cannot spend his whole life looking up at the heavens; neither can he merely look down at the ground. A wise man strikes a balance between admiring the greatness the mind can imagine as well as applying that knowledge to practical situations.