Years ago, I heard a visiting professor discuss freedom in a way I had never considered. He used the example of piano lessons. He said his daughter was becoming discouraged with having to practice consistently. He told her that sticking with the lessons would mean she would be “free” for the rest of her life—having acquired an important skill, she would be “free” to sit down and play something whenever she wanted. He told her he had never stuck with music lessons and, as a result, was never “free” as she would be.
I don’t know if that convinced his daughter, but the story stayed with me. I envy friends who developed musical skill early in life and can now find joy in playing or singing whenever they wish.
Choosing constraints is an interesting way to think about sports. Every sport that humans have created includes boundaries on what a player can do—the designated playing area, what behavior is acceptable, how much time is allowed, etc. Whether it’s pickleball, baseball or soccer, these limitations have been designed and refined over the years to make the game challenging and rewarding.
Take golf, for instance. If the goal is simply to get a ball in the hole, the easiest way would be to walk down the fairway and drop it in. But where’s the challenge in that? Instead, one must hit a little ball using a long stick with all kinds of obstacles and perils in the way. Choosing to accept these artificial obstacles and play by the rules can lead to unrivaled moments of satisfaction (at least occasionally).
Some years ago, I began a three-year leadership program at Seattle University. All 25 of us were expected to continue working full-time for the three years we were enrolled. In one of the first classes, we were told we weren’t going to make it unless we were willing to give up some other obligations and habits. We were given a worksheet that featured a drawing of a trash can with blank lines inside it for our list. We had to choose to give up activities we enjoyed, but doing so was necessary if we wanted to develop new skills and complete the degree.
The spiritual traditions all offer specific practices that can prove beneficial and rewarding over time.
Take food, for instance.
I recently attended a Torah study class at the local synagogue. The topic that day happened to be kosher laws. We began by reading some of the foundational texts from Leviticus 11. Over the next hour and a half, we heard and discussed the opinions of seven different scholars who, over the centuries, offered reasons why these dietary laws were worth following. People in the class shared their own experiences with kosher traditions. Some grew up in homes where the practices were closely followed, while others came from families that decided the ancient guidelines were no longer relevant when science can tell us what is safe and beneficial to eat. The seventh point of view was from Dr. Isidor Grunfeld, a 20th-century British rabbi:
The three strongest natural instincts in man are the impulses of food, sex, and acquisition. Judaism does not aim at the destruction of these impulses but at their control and indeed their sanctification. It is the law which spiritualizes these instincts and transfigures them into legitimate joys of life. The first and probably most vehement of the three impulses mentioned is the craving for food; it can easily lead to gluttony, and what is worse, to the fundamentally wrong conception that ‘man liveth by bread alone.’ This natural, but dangerous, food instinct is transfigured by the dietary laws into self-discipline… Thus the dietary laws stand at the beginning of man’s long and arduous road to self-discipline and moral freedom.
The ultimate aim is not to avoid pork or shellfish but to learn how to strengthen our character in order to find that “moral freedom” within. That same principle applies to practices of prayer, meditation, study, worship and service.
This perspective on freedom is a recurring theme for columnist and commentator David Brooks. Brooks believes “freedom” in our contemporary culture has too often come to mean having no responsibilities or attachments beyond ourselves—doing whatever we please whenever we wish. He calls this “the autonomy ethos.”
While that sounds appealing, he cites many research studies showing that such an attitude and lifestyle ultimately leads to social isolation, a sense of meaninglessness, and the gradual weakening of the communities in which we live. Instead, he argues:
If, on the other hand, you resist the autonomy ethos and put loving passion at the center of your philosophy of life, you will find yourself tied down by all sorts of obligations — to things like a spouse, kids, community, God and a vocation. But your love for these things will constitute fires in the heart, producing great vitality, full engagement, an increase in personal force. It is one of the weird paradoxes of life that the constraints you choose are the ones that set you free.
As I have noted before, I’ve attended many memorial services over the years. People are celebrated for showing us how to live life with a sense of joy and spontaneity. At the same time, much gratitude is offered for the impact the person made on their families, neighbors and community. When we are truly free, we can aspire to both.
Image: Red-tailed Hawk, Hawk Watch International
