I was raised Catholic, so Pope Francis is something of a mythical figure to me—like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, if the Easter Bunny were infallible. I looked forward to his trip to the United States, to see if his persona matched up to the hype. In my opinion, it did. I especially liked the way he addressed our Congress, as if he were telling slightly derelict altar boys to sit up straight.
My favorite part of his address was when he started to recite the Golden Rule. "Do unto others . . ." was as far as he got before Congress stood up and applauded. I have my secret doubts about whether some of the politicians really knew how that famous phrase ended. They probably thought the Golden Rule was "Do unto others before they can do unto you."
The Pope took care to repeat the whole phrase: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." It was very satisfying, hearing our intransigent Congress Pope-whipped a bit. But is also made me think: am I following the Rule myself? Do I treat others the way I wish to be treated? Not always, was my reluctant answer.
That made me think even harder: am I doing everything I can to be a better person? Not richer, or more successful, or even happier. Simply better, someone the Pope would like to hang out with. I try, I told myself. I do what I can, when I'm not too overloaded or stressed out, or when my mental illness isn't hindering me from being all that I truly can be.
Wimpy answers. The truth is, there are a lot of things I could do to make the world a more enjoyable place and myself a more decent person. Off the top of my head, I came up with five simple examples:
1) Really listen.
When I'm in a conversation, I'm always two steps ahead, thinking of the next thing to say. This prevents me from being fully present emotionally, and frankly is just plain rude. I hereby resolve to listen with all my heart and body, and not be too alarmed if an awkward silence results.
2) Expect less from others, and more from myself.
I suffer from high expectations, which are constantly being thwarted. As a result, I'm disappointed and resentful more often than I should be. I never intend to lower my standards, but I know I'm capable of being more flexible. The easy fix: only have expectations about things that are within my own control.
3) Be braver.
I'm a scaredy cat about many things, most of them involving social interaction. I sometimes blame this on my bipolar disorder, because I set rhythms when I'm manic that I can't match when I'm depressed. It's a serious problem, but in the end, it's only fear that's holding me back. And we all know courage isn't the absence of fear: it's action in the face of fear. The simple answer: do something, anything, instead of resorting to my usual default mode of withdrawal. Send out an email. Return a phone call. Live with the discomfort, but live.
4) Commit to one act of kindness every day.
Opportunities to be kind are like sound waves: they surround us, and we never notice them. That homeless guy you pass every day on your way to Starbucks? Don't just toss a dollar into his hat. Say a real hello, and ask how he's doing. Then—see No. 1—really listen. Or try smiling at everybody you meet for an hour, even the waiter who got your order wrong or the bank teller who made you wait in line. You'll be surprised by how much more quickly the time passes, and also by how many people look startled when you smile.
5) Govern yourself.
Given how obsessed we are with the upcoming presidential election, it's apparent our country is craving a sense of direction. We want to be guided, to be told what to do. I think we need to stop looking to others for leadership, and start governing ourselves. Maybe big things will be outside our purview: we can't change the tax code, we can't reverse the Citizens United decision. But the small, everyday, ordinary things that make up the commerce of our lives—like listening and smiling and being kind—those things remain within our control.
I challenge everyone who reads this post to be a better human being today. Taken individually, our efforts may seem to have little effect on the world, but every great storm started out with a single lonesome raindrop. Just ask yourself, would Pope Francis be proud of me today? Or better yet, am I proud of myself?
