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By Dr. Bruce T. Marshall
June 19, 2011
Reading:
This is the happiest story you’ve ever read. It’s about two people
who led wonderfully fulfilling lives. They had engrossing careers,
earned the respect of their friends, and made important
contributions to their neighborhood, their country, and their world.
And the odd thing was, they weren’t born geniuses. They did okay on
the SAT and IQ tests and that sort of thing, but they had no
extraordinary physical or mental gifts. They were fine-looking, but
they weren’t beautiful. They played tennis and hiked, but even in
high school they weren’t star athletes, and nobody would have picked
them out at that young age and said they were destined for greatness
in any sphere. Yet they achieved this success, and everyone who met
them sensed that they lived blessed lives.
How did they do it? They possessed what economists call
non-cognitive skills, which is the catchall category for hidden
qualities that can’t be easily counted or measured, but which in
real life lead to happiness and fulfillment.
First, they had good character. They were energetic, honest, and
dependable. They were persistent after setbacks and acknowledged
their mistakes. They possessed enough confidence to take risks and
enough integrity to live up to their commitments. They tried to
recognize their weaknesses, atone for their sins, and control their
worst impulses.
Just as important, they had street smarts. They knew how to read
people, situations, and ideas. You could put them in front of a
crowd, or bury them with a bunch of reports, and they could develop
an intuitive feel for the landscape before them—what could go
together and what would never go together, what course would be
fruitful and what would never be fruitful. The skills a master
seaman has to navigate the oceans, they had to navigate the world.
Over the centuries, zillions of books have been written about how to
succeed. But these tales are usually told on the surface level of
life. They describe the colleges people get into, the professional
skills they acquire, the conscious decisions they make, and the tips
and techniques they adopt to build connections and get ahead. These
books often focus on an outer definition of success, having to do
with IQ, wealth, prestige, and worldly accomplishments.
This story is told one level down. This success story emphasizes the
role of the inner mind—the unconscious realm of emotions,
intuitions, biases, longings, genetic predispositions, character
traits, and social norms. This is the realm where character is
formed and street smarts grow.
We are living in the middle of a revolution in consciousness. Over
the past few years, geneticists, neuroscientists, psychologists,
sociologists, economists, anthropologists, and others have made
great strides in understanding the building blocks of human
flourishing. And a core finding of their work is that we are not
primarily the products of our conscious thinking. We are primarily
the products of thinking that happens below the level of
awareness….Just as Galileo removed the earth from its position at
the center of the universe, so this intellectual revolution removes
the conscious mind from its privileged place at the center of human
behavior. This story removes it from the center of everyday life. It
points to a deeper way of flourishing and a different definition of
success.
David Brooks, The Social Animal
Sermon:
In an experiment conducted at Stanford University during the 1970s,
a series of four-year-olds were put in a room with a table that had
a marshmallow placed on top. The researcher told each child that he
was going to leave the room. The child could eat the marshmallow.
Or—if that child waited until the researcher returned—he or she
would receive two marshmallows. Videos showed the children
struggling with their impulses: eat it now or wait. They would
squirm, they would cover their eyes, a few banged their heads on the
table, trying not to eat that marshmallow.
It turns out that the marshmallow test, administered to
four-year-olds, is a better indicator of success in life than are
traditional standardized measurements of intelligence, such as IQ
tests. Thirty years later, the children who were able to wait a few
minutes for a second marshmallow had much higher college completion
rates, more successful careers and higher incomes. Those who had not
been able to wait were more likely to be in jail and/or to suffer
from drug and alcohol addiction.
Throughout the years, our society has invested a lot of capital in
the idea that highly intelligent people will be most likely to
succeed. But it appears that native intelligence is not the crucial
factor in determining success or in identifying who will make
significant contributions to society. More important are qualities,
such as, the ability to control impulses, put off rewards, exercise
self control, deal with others fairly, conduct oneself with
integrity, and to just plain work hard. That is to say, character.
Character is what matters.
Researchers considered why some children were able to wait and
others weren’t and they determined that sheer willpower was not the
reason. Willpower alone is not effective in matters of temptation,
which is why, for example, most diets fail. Instead, what works is a
strategy. As David Brooks describes it, “The kids who did poorly
directed their attention at the marshmallow. They thought if they
looked right at it they could somehow master their temptation to eat
it. The ones who could wait distracted themselves from the
marshmallow. They pretended it wasn’t real, it wasn’t there, or it
wasn’t really a marshmallow. They had techniques to adjust their
attention.”
In subsequent versions of this experiment, researchers armed the
children with strategies. The four-year-olds were advised to imagine
that what they were seeing on the table was a picture of a
marshmallow—or perhaps a fluffy cloud, not the real thing. The
children who employed such strategies were able to wait an average
of three times longer. What this says is that the crucial ability to
delay rewards can be learned. It can be self-taught as some children
figure out for themselves it takes for them to succeed. It can be
formally taught as a strategy for success.
Albert Einstein once said, “It's not that I'm so smart, it's just
that I stay with problems longer.” Hence, one factor involved in
creating a life that is a happy story. It’s not native
intelligence—or inherited wealth—or physical beauty—or any of those
givens that seem to set us off on one path or another. Rather, what
matters is character: a set of traits that can be learned and that
enables a person to address the challenges of life, to make it
through the hard times, to take advantage of opportunities, to make
mistakes and learn from them, to delay immediate gratification in
anticipation of deeper rewards. Albert Einstein again, “Most people
say that is it is the intellect which makes a great scientist. They
are wrong: it is character.”
● ● ●
What are the essential human qualities it takes to flourish? That’s
the topic of this sermon, guided by the book that I drew upon for
the reading. The book is called The Social Animal, written by David
Brooks, who is a columnist for the New York Times and a commentator
on National Public Radio. In this book he steps away from his
customary role of giving political analysis and looks deeper.
His aim is ambitious: to draw upon research in many realms—but
particularly in the cognitive sciences—in order to address an
ancient question: What is involved in creating a happy, contented,
and worthwhile life? As he put it, “The people studying the mind and
brain are producing amazing insights about who we are, and yet these
insights aren’t having a sufficient impact on the wider culture.”
The method he employs to convey these insights is to tell the story
of two fictitious people—Harold and Erica—as they make their way
through life. Harold and Erica don’t do everything right. They
aren’t especially lucky. They go through hard times; they sometimes
are confused, at other times discouraged. And yet, they successfully
address the challenges that come before them and thereby create good
and useful and satisfying lives. This, according to David Brooks, is
what goes into making a life that can be called a happy story.
This morning I would like to share some elements David Brooks
identifies as important in determining whether one’s life turns out
well. I’m not going to retell his story of Harold and Erica. It is
an effective device in the book, but there’s not time in a sermon.
Instead, I’ll offer some glimpses into what David Brooks calls, “The
Happiest Story You’ll Ever Hear.”
● ● ●
The marshmallow research indicates one factor in creating a happy
and successful life. It affirms the importance of character over
traits such as intelligence, physical appearance, athletic ability,
inherited wealth or class status.
A second factor receiving attention by those studying the mind and
how it functions is the influence of the unconscious. We tend to
focus on the conscious mind: what we can do and be and figure out in
the moment. But this research urges us to look more seriously at the
influence of what lies beneath the surface.
To introduce this concept, let’s turn to the Beatles. Why not?
In his book called Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell describes the path to
success that the Beatles followed. For those of us who were around
back then, it seemed like they just sprang upon the world, fully
formed and ready for success. But that’s not how it happened. Before
the Beatles were ready for the big time, they did a lot of
practicing. They were among many British bands that grew up
imitating American music, what was called “rhythm and blues.” The
crucial break for the Beatles came not when Ed Sullivan called them
up and offered a spot on his variety show. The important opportunity
came years earlier when John, Paul, George, Stu, and Pete (the
original Beatles) got a gig in Hamburg, Germany, where they played
in a series of dank, dark clubs. These were not glamorous digs: the
working conditions were challenging, the pay was awful, that section
of Hamburg was dangerous and crime-ridden. Moreover, they had to
work really hard. They were on stage eight hours a night and had to
respond to whatever musical style the patrons wanted that evening.
The Beatles played Hamburg for over two years. That plus more years
playing clubs in Liverpool got them their 10,000 hours.
The 10,000-hour rule was maybe thought up by Malcolm Gladwell—or
not; I don’t know. But I keep coming across it. It states that to
get really good at something, it takes about 10,000 hours of
practice. I’ve seen the rule applied to musicians, athletes,
artists, writers, actors—I expect it’s true also with mechanics,
teachers, carpenters, plumbers, academics, architects, ministers—any
skill that must be developed. It takes something like 10,000 hours
of practice in your trade to get really good at it.
How come? Well, it’s important to understand what’s going on
throughout those 10,000 hours of learning. During that time,
conscious learning seeps into the unconscious until it becomes
second nature, and you no longer have to think about what you’re
doing. It becomes a part of you. So let’s say you’re a car mechanic.
After hours and hours of experience, you don’t have to think about
what might be wrong with a car. You hear the engine, and you know—or
at least you know where to look. Let’s take a skill in which most of
us have put in our 10,000 hours: driving a car. Driving a car and
negotiating traffic is pretty complicated—especially around here.
Remember when you were learning to drive? You had to think about
each operation, make sure you did it right.
But today, well, you can drive and listen to the radio or have a
conversation or think about a problem at work or talk on your cell
phone (if you’re not in Maryland) or drink a cup of coffee and eat a
sandwich. Most of the time, you do not consciously think about
driving, yet you almost always make it safely to your destination.
If a dangerous situation presents itself, then you snap to attention
and think about what you have to do, but then you return to
automatic.
The human mind constantly absorbs information which is then stored
in the unconscious. As the philosopher/theologian Alfred North
Whitehead put it, “The human brain is built to take conscious
knowledge and turn it into unconscious knowledge.” The 10,000 hours
of practice put in by the Beatles was critical in making it possible
for them to become as creative as they were. Because after awhile,
they didn’t have to think about how to make rock and roll. It was in
their bones—or in their unconscious. That freed them to be creative,
innovative. Same is true for any skill. Alfred North Whitehead
again, “Civilization advances by extending the number of operations
which we can perform without thinking about them.”
The unconscious contains a vast amount of information that we have
accumulated over the course of our lives. But we also seem to come
into this world with certain basic values installed, a collection of
moral sensitivities that are then activated in the appropriate
situations. Such as, a sense of fairness, an inclination toward
reciprocity (you help me; I’ll help you), an inclination toward
loyalty, an aversion to certain things that produce disgust, a
desire to offer and receive care. Some researches have compared this
inherent moral sense to taste buds. We’re born with them, then they
develop in response to the circumstances of our lives.
A second key to a happy and productive life, then, is to respect and
draw upon this unconscious knowledge. Having access to a deeper well
of experience that is both innate and learned and that produces a
deeper wisdom than is available to us consciously. David Brooks
states that, “Measured at its highest potential, the conscious mind
still has a processing capacity 200,000 times weaker than the
unconscious.” Or as John Lehrer put it, “You know more than you
know.” Living a happy and successful life involves having access to
what we each have stored in our unconscious and respecting what it’s
trying to tell us.
● ● ●
A third realm. Here we consider the concepts of individualism and
community. Western society has emphasized the individual as what
really matters. We tend to see the crucial factor, say, in bringing
change as an individual standing out in front of the pack and doing
something that makes a difference. Consider our movies, particularly
westerns and superhero stories. An individual who sees things more
clearly or has superior powers saves the day. American society
celebrates individual freedom, individual expression,
self-fulfillment and personal liberation.
Asian society is different. Rather than focusing on the
contributions of individuals, it is attentive to relationships,
harmony, interdependence, community: working together to address a
problem.
American students and Asian students were shown pictures of a
chicken and cow and some grass. They were asked which of these go
together. American students grouped the chicken and the cow
together—because both are animals. Asian students grouped the cow
and the grass—because cows and grass have a relationship: cows eat
grass.
The human brain is structured to make connections. We take bits and
pieces of information and arrange them into patterns. This brings
negative and positive effects. On the negative side, we create
patterns where there really aren’t any. Anybody who follows NBA
basketball probably believes that players have hot and cold shooting
streaks. There are times when everything seems to work for a
basketball player and then others when nothing goes in. Problem is,
there is no statistical evidence supporting the concept of hot and
cold streaks. “A shooter who has made two consecutive shots is as
likely to miss his third attempt as his career shooting percentage
would predict.” But despite the evidence, our minds refuse to accept
it. We create a story asserting patterns where none really exist.
The phenomenon of stereotyping also has its roots in this need our
minds have to find or create patterns. We take a characteristic
shown by an individual and then extend it to all members of a group
in which he or she has membership. Stereotyping gets used against
others; it also affects how we perceive ourselves. A group of Asian
American women was given a math test. Then they were reminded of
their Asian heritage and were given another math test—their scores
rose. Then they were reminded that they were women and given a third
math test. This time, their scores dropped. Their performance was
affected both positively and negatively by the stories they told
themselves about themselves.
This habit of our minds of making connections makes creativity
possible. We find relationships among seemingly disparate elements,
and something new comes into being: something greater than the sum
of its parts. This same habit of seeking patterns and connections is
also what makes learning possible. Learning is not about memorizing
facts. We can hold only a finite number of disconnected pieces of
information in our heads. Learning, rather, is about finding
patterns in the facts, relationships among the facts, determining
the story that they tell. When we organize facts into strings of
meaning, then we remember. Then we have learned.
This capacity for making connections is also what makes human
society possible. What distinguishes humans from the higher animals
is not really problem-solving ability. Apes, for example, do a
pretty good job of figuring out solutions to problems with which
they are confronted. What distinguishes humans is that we share what
we have learned with others, we pass this information down through
the generations, we apply this information to the societies that we
create. Hence, the store of knowledge and skills accessible to us
continues to grow.
Our political life in recent times has been dominated by calls—from
both right and left—for freedom. Economic freedom, personal freedom,
social freedom: freedom, freedom, freedom. In response, our society
has become increasingly fragmented, with groups and individuals
going off on their own, each following its own version of freedom.
We distinguish ourselves from each other, we separate ourselves from
each other. But then we lose a sense for how we are related, how we
can be connected. We neglect the webs of relationship that bring us
together. We lose a sense of community, the values of community, the
skills of living together in community.
To have a happy and productive life means living in relationship. It
means putting our experiences into patterns. It means finding
meaning in what has happened to us. It means bringing people
together into families, societies, communities. We have devoted a
lot of attention in recent decades to promoting various freedoms
without comparable attentiveness to the social networks that relate
us to each other. We thus find ourselves in an increasingly
fragmented world populated by interest groups competing with each
other, rarely granting that we hold anything in common.
● ● ●
This is Father’s Day. As such, perhaps you’ll cut me some slack and
be patient as I attempt to offer some fatherly advice.
Today’s generations of children and young adults are facing a
different landscape than what most of us here have known for most of
our lives. Recent history—certainly since World War II—has been a
story of increasing prosperity, increasing opportunity, increasing
achievement
But with the millennium, we exited what has been called the American
Century and entered a different time with different characteristics
and new challenges. We all know the litany. A global economy that
our country can no longer dominate. Increased competition for scarce
resources—oil being one of them, water another. Global warming. A
national economy that has not easily absorbed the new workforce.
Rising medical and retirement costs. An increasing gap between the
rich and the poor.
In previous times we could pretty much “grow” out of our problems.
An expanding economy soaked up the new workforce, and each
generation almost automatically became more prosperous. That’s
unlikely to continue. And so these new generations will have to
adjust to changed circumstances.
I think that the insights I’ve tried to share this morning—drawn
from research about how our minds operate—offer guidelines for
surviving, even thriving. In David Brooks’ words: pointing to “a
deeper way of flourishing and a different definition of success.”
First of all, developing character. That is, the capacity to make
one’s way through difficult times and circumstances while retaining
a sense of grounding, a sense of who we are. Resisting the
temptation to take the marshmallow in front of you when there’s
something to be gained by delaying immediate gratification.
Second, opening ourselves to the wisdom we have contained within us
in our unconscious, while recognizing the limitations of our
conscious minds. This opens us into the realm of intuition, emotion,
gut feelings, intimations of both danger and beauty. “We know more
than we know.”
Third, attending to communities. We’re entering a period in which we
will need a willingness to work together, form relationships, create
bonds. We’re entering a time in which public policy and private
morality will need to strengthen communities and the bonds of
relationship that make them possible.
These three areas also strike me as being in the realm of
congregations. That’s what we do—or at least try to do—or at least
should do—as churches. As congregations today wonder about what the
future holds—as we at Davies think about what comes next—there is
both vision and mission contained in these themes.
That is, in our congregations—in this particular congregation, we
are called to help develop character: both in children and adults.
We are called to establish contact with the wisdom contained in
realms beyond our conscious minds, which is what religious stories
and rituals are about.
And also: develop community. Not just develop community but promote
actions and policies that sustain families, organizations,
associations—groups of people working together for common goals and
ideals.
In this new age we have now entered, these strike me as strategies
to help us realize that deeper way of flourishing. A good life. A
productive and happy life. A life that becomes, in David Brooks’
terminology, a happy story. The happiest story we’ll ever hear.
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