This country was no use to him at all. Everyone here had ‘survived’ already. Nobody took the least interest in the question. There was nothing more to prove. His occupation was clean gone. Of course if he would only have admitted that he’d mistaken the means for the end and had a good laugh at himself he could have begun all over again like a little child and entered into joy. But he would not do that. He cared nothing about joy. In the end he went away.

CS Lewis, The Great Divorce

What would you do if you woke up tomorrow, and had no more problems to solve? Like I said, I’ve wondered about this question for a long time, and I’ve somewhat struggled to imagine what it would be like. I’d like to think that I would have some peace, but to tell the truth, I would imagine myself being bored out of my mind. For whatever reason that I’m writing right now, I would no longer have any reason to. I’d have no reason to study or read. I’d have no reason to do anything at all, really. Our actions, after all, aim at some kind of good, or end. Ultimately, those actions coalesce and aim at some kind of intrinsic end, after which no other end is required. Different people come up with different ideas of what this end may be: for example, happiness or eudaimonia, as Aristotle thought, is an excellent suggestion; and the Church teaches that this intrinsic end is beatitude. Regardless, it is hard to imagine what we would do if this end was achieved. Of course, my analogy is imperfect: boredom is a problem that would have to be eliminated, too, but I hope my point is clear. It is difficult to imagine ourselves with perfect happiness. After all this time, I’ve given this problem a name: this is the difficulty of choosing Heaven.

We frequently mistake the means for the end. I might think writing keeps me happy. It is true that I gain satisfaction from it, but I don’t do this simply for the sake of doing it. I do it for a reason, but that end will never be something I experience in this life. And because this ultimate gratification is going to be delayed, I must be careful not to mistake what might give me the most happiness in this lifetime as the true fount of happiness that I’d been chasing. For others, that mistaken end-in-itself might be their career, their studies, their mother- or fatherhood, their artistic endeavours, or something else entirely. Regardless of what it is, one thing is clear: that they must not forget that they do not do what they do for the mere sake of doing it. This is a common mistake made by all types in CS Lewis’s novel, The Great Divorce.

Around about this time, many people are hastily writing their new year’s resolutions. Like many of you, I’ve often struggled with the practice of making and keeping any given year’s resolutions; however, the new year bids us to take stock of where we’re at and where we’re going as well as where we’d like to be. It’s a useful exercise, if done well. As we’ve taken the time over this Advent period to reflect on the four last things, in considering your new year’s resolutions, I would offer you one bit of advice, and that is to consider what you’re doing in your life and why.

If you’re a teacher, for example, that means you should reflect on why you teach; and moreover, consider why that why matters to you, or to anyone at all. Keep asking those why questions until you get to a point where your “why” is so blunt and so apparently self-evident that you can hardly break it down any more than that. Do not mistake the means for the end. In short, do not what you do merely for the sake of doing it, but do it for the sake of that which is ultimately good in-and-of-itself.

The Jesuits have a motto: Ad maiorem Dei gloriam (“For the greater glory of God”). Consider your ultimate goal in light of this motto because, if I’m honest, you cannot and will not achieve any true and lasting happiness, beatitude, fulfilment, or joy if your whole life is defined by the “what” and not the “why”. Your life circumstances—your vocation, profession, and routine; etc.—will change throughout your life, and you will be called to do different things; but someone who lives for a “why” will not be dismayed at the turn of the tide. Someone who lives for a “why” can live life to the fullest every single day because they have their eyes on the prize, and can set a path towards it. A philosopher I’m often at odds with once wrote, “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” He had a point there.

None of this is to denigrate what you do. What you do matters. But, I urge you, when you do it, remember that it is part of your pilgrimage on Earth (or “journey on Earth”, if my religious word-choice doesn’t suit you). Don’t forget to choose Heaven, and try to enjoy the road you take to get there because the truth is that by God’s grace, eternal happiness is on offer.

As a final word, I’d like to point out that St Francis de Sales had a meditation on this very thing. If you’re interested, you may read it here.

Happy New Year!