The Road to Character

We often hear the word ‘Character’ being used about people. We refer to some people as ‘real characters’, suggesting (to me, at least) that, though they might be quite flawed in many ways, even objectionable, they possess a certain charisma which sets them apart from the crowd. (Boris Johnson comes to mind). The second meaning is found in the expression ‘the man showed real character in dealing with that situation’, suggesting a deeper quality that sheds light on his fundamental personality, his make-up as an individual.

It is this latter meaning that I’ve been reflecting on recently, re-reading David Brooks’ 2015 classic ‘The Road to Character’. This book has had the same impact on me as Scott Peck’s ‘The Road Less travelled’ back in the 1980s, with  those wonderful opening words, ‘Life is difficult’. Brooks  starts the book by reflecting on two types of virtue, what he calls ‘resumé’ (better known as CV in the UK) and ‘eulogy’ virtues. In other words, what would you put about yourself on your CV and how would that differ from the words you would want said about you in your funeral eulogy? The first would concern achievements, aspirations and ambition; the second, whilst touching on resumé virtues, would probably focus more on aspects of the deceased’s character.

Brooks then looks into the question of how this character is built. Using the book ‘Lonely man of faith’ by Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik which notes that, in the book of Genesis there are two accounts of creation, referring to the opposing sides of our nature, , Brooks calls the external ‘resumé’ side Adam I and the internal ‘eulogy’ side ‘Adam II’. He spends the rest of the book telling the story of eight historical personalities who discovered their ‘Adam II’. I would strongly suggest to any reader of this book not to get too hung up on these terms, which I personally found confusing, especially given the New Testament description of Jesus as ‘The Second Adam’.

Brooks’ choice of historical personages is truly eclectic and wide-ranging, with a few Americans unknown to many people this side of the pond. They include wartime General and former president Dwight Eisenhower, George Marshall of the ‘Marshall plan’, St Augustine of Hippo, Dr Samuel Johnson, George Eliot and many others, Brooks seeks to get behind their achievements to the character that underlies them, drawing lessons for us today. The chapter headings are named, not after the people, but their virtues: ‘The summoned self’, ‘Self-conquest’, ‘struggle’, ‘self-mastery’, ‘dignity’, ‘love’, ordered love’, self-examination’, ending with their antithesis: ‘The Big Me.’ Even though many of these people were influential, they were humble, none of them interested in the ‘Big Me’ philosophy so popular today,

One person not granted a whole chapter but a few paragraphs in the section about vocation- ‘The Summoned self’ is the Jewish psychiatrist Victor Frankl. In 1942 he was rounded up and sent first to a ghetto and then to a series of concentration camps. Whilst there, he spent most of his time laying railway tracks. Brooks comments: ‘This was not the life he had planned for himself……but the life which events had assigned for him.’ In his 1946 book ‘Man’s search for meaning’ Frankl comments, ‘It really did not matter what we expected from life, but rather, what life expected from us. We needed to stop asking the meaning of life and instead think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life- daily and hourly.’  How Brooks’ chosen individuals responded to being so questioned is crucial in the development of their characters.

I have been made to think about this book and these matters by two recent events in my life, one thrust upon me, and the other chosen. About 6 weeks ago I took the funeral – despite being retired- of a parishioner and Lay Minister in my last church before retirement, also known to me as wife of a clerical colleague in my former parish. I did this in response to her request once she knew the full extent of her illness and how short a time she had to live. I was very daunted at the prospect of this assignment but now, in hindsight, I believe taking this service was one of the greatest privileges of my ministry.

 In preparing my eulogy I asked for contributions from people who knew her, and was inundated by warm testimonials from far and wide, a warmth my wife and I already knew for ourselves. In some of this I was taken aback because, when I first knew her, she appeared to me as a fairly prim, and even scary schoolteacher and ‘old-school’ Vicar’s wife who baked endless cakes and enjoyed long summer holidays in the South of France whilst we were dependent on charities for a week in Devon with the family.

However, as I spoke to her daughters I realised how the things about her I took for granted – her hard work, her total reliability, her thoughtful preaching, her support of me and countless other lay people and priests including some in Africa and one in jail – , had its roots in the adversity she’d suffered: the loss of a child, her abandonment by her first husband, leaving her to make a living and bring up her young girls on a tough council estate, the death, soon after retirement, of her second husband, followed a few years later  by the death of another close companion- none of this had embittered her but only deepened her compassion and faith in God. The character that was formed by this was a huge one, leaving- in many people’s words- ‘a great hole in our lives.’

This has also brought home to me the great privilege I share with all clergy of taking people’s funerals and helping the grieving family give expression to the character of their loved one. It baffles and concerns me beyond measure how many families today are choosing no event to mark the passing of their loved one, a decision I’m convinced many come to regret.

The other recent event that has made me think about character and how it is formed, was the film ‘Springsteen: deliver me from nowhere.’ Bruce Springsteen is known as a global rock superstar, bursting on the scene 50 years ago with ‘Born to Run’ and still active today at the age of 76, filling stadiums and inspiring a level of affection which has led many to describe his audience as ‘half fans /half congregation’. People are said to arrive at a show on their own and soon be gathered into a caring family, touched by the spirit of Bruce’s message, atheists finding themselves ‘praying’ at his bidding. I knew nothing of this – only his songs- when I attended a show at the end of the Isle of Wight Festival in 2012.

Three  years later I wrote this at the beginning of my MA dissertation entitled ‘Glory train’

“Like many other outdoor festivals in Britain, the 2012 festival was a struggle with the elements following three weeks of constant rain which reduced the arena to a quagmire and deterred many from coming at all.  By the time, therefore, that  the headliner Bruce Springsteen arrived on stage the audience was somewhat depleted and dispirited. This however seemed to spur on the American singer, whose shows are often described as ‘secular gospel’ and usually last around three hours, to new heights of performance and inspiration. Springsteen sang all his greatest hits, mixing them with a heavy dose of his most recent album “Wrecking Ball” which celebrates the resilience and survival of the American working man in the face of the 2008 banking crisis and its aftermath.

One of the last items in the show before the encore was “Land of hopes and Dreams.”  This song touched perfectly the mood of the Isle of Wight congregation (for so Springsteen’s audiences are often called). People were weary,  with each muddy footstep requiring forethought and  planning, yet with a sense of camaraderie. Springsteen sang about a train journey: ‘Darling if you’re weary / lay your head upon my chest/ We’ll take what we can carry/ and we’ll leave the rest/ Big wheels roll through fields where sunlight streams/ Meet me in a land of hopes and dreams.’  He then went on  to describe his fellow passengers: ‘This train carries saints and sinners/ this train carries losers and winners…../ broken-hearted, sweet souls departed.’  By the end I was  reaching  for biblical language: “Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.” (Hebrews 12:2). I felt Springsteen had not just sang a song, but offered a vision for living and dying.” (‘Glory train’ MA dissertation, Sarum College 2015)

What makes Springsteen special apart from the excellence of his music and his band? (if you like that kind of thing!)  

I would say that he is unique amongst rock stars in delivering an embodied message: by his songs he seeks to draw people together and ‘rise up’ (In the words of one of his songs) above their present circumstances, be they annoying (as at the Isle of Wight) or deeply disturbing (New York 2001 or Europe 2025 contemplating Trump’s second term).

Yet this fervour and desire for reconciliation is not effortless, nor does  it come from nowhere. The film ‘Springsteen: Deliver me from nowhere’ (Scott Cooper 2025) gives an insight into the character of the man. Taking an 18 month period following the hit record ‘The River’ (1980)  and its very successful accompanying tour, at the height of his powers, when his record company was clamouring for more hits, he took a deliberate decision to step back and record a solo acoustic album, reflecting on the darker underbelly of American life and its casualties, and above all, his own childhood and his relationship with his abusive father.

The album that resulted, Nebraska, was released in 1982 without fanfare or promotion, (yet now reckoned to be one of his best) and the whole process led Springsteen into a deep depression, therapy (which has remained part of his life ever since) and the beginnings of a reconciliation with his father. From this he managed to recover his spirit and write new songs, some of them started during that period, including a dark story written in the minor key about a Vietnam war veteran returning home to a land which had no place for him. Transposed into the major key and given a full tumultuous rock backing, it became Born in the USA, the title track of his next album, which sold 30 million copies and propelled him into global superstardom.

Though I am no Springsteen expert, it seems to me that this choice to examine his and America’s dark past, coupled with residual elements of his Catholic upbringing in New Jersey, much of which he’d rejected except the  story of love, reconciliation and fellowship  which he retained, ( the ‘ties that bind’) led to a remarkable movement (some call it a ‘church’) with a unique and tangible character.

My deceased friend felt a huge sense of compassion and responsibility towards a wide range of humanity arising from her own struggles; Bruce Springsteen donated to many grassroots groups, including the UK Miners’ hardship fund in 1984-5, and continues to speak out for victims of injustice. Both, I believe, despite their differences of belief, thought and think of themselves (in Frankl’s words) as ‘those who are being questioned by life- daily and hourly.’

I hope that we will recover our belief in the importance of character in our increasingly selfish and divided world.