The Purpose of Life

Most of the things we do, most of the time are teleological in nature. Teleology derives from the Greek work telos, which means goal or purpose. The telos is that toward which something moves. If you think about most of the ordinary things we do, we do them for a purpose. You walk to the refrigerator, to take something out. You take something out to make a drink. You make a drink to quench your thirst. Most of the things we do are of that nature. Very few things happen for no purpose. On the odd occasion when we find ourselves forgetful of the purpose for doing something we feel foolish. “I just went into the office for something, and I can’t remember what I went for. How silly!” Sadly, these increase with age and I am no stranger to them!

Among the ancients Aristotle thought much of teleology. He suggested that everything in nature has a purpose. To find out that purpose and to work with it is a good thing. It became the basis for the kind of morality that is called natural law.

To say so seems quite obvious.

However, there is a common phrase that I hear lot from students. “Everything happens for a purpose.” When I hear that I usually press the student for a meaning. The answer is usually, “Well, I don’t know. I just feel that everything happens for a purpose.” I ferret away at the answer because I suspect that the student is saying something more than “most everything is teleological,” in the obvious and not very interesting sense. I think I am hearing “Everything happens for a good purpose.” That is something different.

I think most people would have no trouble with the idea of the purposeful nature of most things. Yet, I know some would have a lot of trouble with the idea that the purposeful nature of all things being toward a good end. Some things happen for quite bad reasons. In the newspapers yesterday, there was a story of a little boy aged one year who was savaged and killed by his grand parents dog, a Rottweiller. “Everything happens for a good purpose,” is quite a hollow idea in the face of such a tragedy.

There is a deeper still understanding of telos. It is that contained in all the great traditions, in different ways. It is that there is indeed an end goal, a purpose to life, but is one that we must choose. It is a purpose to which we must align ourselves. In its different guises this goal is perfection, and perfection is a reflection of God. “Be holy as I am holy.”

In Hebrews 2 it is in the phrase, “bringing many children to glory.” The thought is expanded, and I paraphrase it: The purpose of God (of the universe) is that all share in the perfection of God. In this world of imperfection it is not obvious what that is. We need a role model. That model is Jesus who is a pioneer in showing us the way to God, to perfection, to the goal. Not only did Jesus know that way to God, we are told that we can share it with him. For that reason Jesus calls us sisters and brothers. In this way of perfection there is no difference between Jesus and us.

That is an astonishing thought. Often, it is the differences between Jesus and the rest of us that are thought of. Jesus is perfect; we are not. Jesus is the Son of God; we are not. Jesus is one with the Father-Mother and Spirit; we are not. Jesus is a model, yes, but an impossibly high model, to which we cannot attain. This is reinforced in our tradition by the number of times we confess our sins! IT reinforces the idea that we have failed and continue to fail. “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” says Paul writing to the Romans. That idea has gripped the church far more than “bring many children to glory.”

There is a principle (attributed broadly to the German philosopher Immanuel Kant) that “ought implies can.” If you are told, “you ought to do this,” there is an implication that you can also do what you ought to do. Otherwise, it would be a cruel imperative. High jumpers in the Olympics have also fascinated me. Their achievements are amazing. Yet, if someone said to me, “OK Andy, you ought to jump over seven feet high,” I would think of it as a cruel joke. Ought (obligation) can only be so if it is a possibility. “You ought to tell the truth,” however, is different. Ought implies can.

So, when we come to consider the telos of life, perfection, likeness to God, modeled in Jesus, the ought to be like Christ implies the possibility to be so. This is good news.

How, then, can I become perfect? How can I reach the goal? I think it is something to do with practice and contemplation. I leave that to your creativity and imagination.