We are truly tired of flowery rhetoric about freedom, self-actualization, and human rights. Not because these are undesirable realities or shamefully incomprehensible concepts. On the contrary, they are aspects of life that we strive to preserve, nurture, and make possible so that others may enjoy or attain them. Rather, I am referring to the fact that, in the name of freedom, self-realization, and elegant discourse on human rights, we have been subjected to a sordid practical relativism, to living life any which way, to justifying ourselves to avoid the harsh blow of correction, failure, or sin.
I speak as a child of my time. I grew up amid the escalating clash of ideas, the allure of self-assertion, and the dream of freedom. I was repeatedly told that I must seek what fulfills me, what makes me feel good, and what showcases the best of me to everyone. My failures are not mistakes; they are “areas of opportunity.” My sins are not moral breaches, but mere products that necessarily stem from my weakness. Whatever I decide is fine, as long as it springs from the core of my creative will. But few have directed my heart outward from itself, to where Truth dwells. For if it is true that Truth dwells within the inner man—as Augustine says—Truth is at once what is more intimate than one’s own intimacy and the highest transcendence, beyond every limit of my being. True interiority is always ecstatic, always outside of itself, always seeking beyond boundaries of every kind: conceptual, ontological, moral, spiritual.
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