Last Saturday afternoon, thirty of us leaned in to hear a soft-spoken federal judge deliver thunder to his three young law clerks and their families. After a year of interning for him, it was his job to receive their oath to uphold the Constitution. Just before this solemn ritual, he set their careers on a course with powerful words. He began with his sixth grade recollection of JFK’s assassination, then offered this.
When President Kennedy was killed, the trail blazing journalist, Mary McGrory, said to a young Daniel Patrick Moynihan, “We’ll never laugh again.” Moynihan, who later became a U.S. Senator, replied, “Mary, of course we’ll laugh again, but we’ll never be young again.”
(Judge Keith Ellison, Southern Federal District, TX, April 20, 2024)
More Homily than speech, the man my law-clerk-daughter simply refers to as, “Judge,” described his early experience as a public interest attorney in which “the sharp edges of imperfectlaws careened into the soft tissue of [his] idealism.” He escortedus back to a courtroom over forty years ago. The tableau he constructed included a brave little girl standing next to her refugee father on his way to eventual deportation. Within hand-holding distance stood an observant same-aged little girl on a court-room field-trip. The beauty and intelligence of these side-by-side grammar schoolers could not be missed. The dreadful disparities in their future opportunities, from this day forward,would also be impossible to overlook. At least it wasn’t missed on a twenty-something barrister/future judge. In a voice carrying the weight of this memory, and others like it, Judge paused, looked up, and confessed, “From that day forward, I would never be young again.”
I remember my front-row seat when a willowy Seventh Grade Annalise told an auditorium full of adults that she’s tired of hearing how she and her age-mates represented “our future.” “With climate change bearing down on us,” she exclaimed through gleaming orthodontia, “the future is right now!” Her initial interest in environmental law receded during her gap-years after college when she volunteered teaching inner-city kids in Memphis. She observed first-hand the 100 ways that poverty picked her kids’ pockets clean of any down-payments on future opportunities. Her acceptance into Law school would provide her the platform to launch a career shaped by the small hands and big lives of Angell, Jaylan, Ronica, Donte, Meghan, Larry, and Michael. Annalise is outraged by a system that holds some down while buoying others up. In his sermon, Judge said, “It’s easy to make a dollar. It’s hard to make a difference.” Annalisewants to make a difference.
After studying nearly six years to be a Catholic priest…after two rounds of graduate school and a counseling practice where I’ve been privileged to sit across from hundreds of women and men…I’ve known my share of people who have sought to make a difference. I’ve noticed a commonality. Anyone who takes up this kind of journey will eventually find themselves confronting a narrow gate. An unimaginably expensive toll is required for passage. The entire backpack of one’s youthful naivete must be surrendered to continue the work of making a difference. Battered and bruised by this world’s casual brutality, some find their way to what the philosopher, Paul Ricoeur, referred to as a “second naivete.” This philosophical construct describes a process as well as a decision in which those original ideals are re-appropriated with a salvific measure of realism and renewed determination.
Judge’s inspirational words served as a reliable compass pointing his newly minted lawyers toward True North. I found myself wanting to outfit my daughter and her colleagues with a toolkit to supplement that compass. The kit I have in mind would be encased in glass with an instruction printed on the front. “In case of disillusionment, break glass.”
A Toolkit for Making a Difference Over the Long Haul
Tool Number One: Find a mentor you respect and trust. Meet with them at least once-a-month, and vulnerably share your journey. Preferably this person would not be a supervisor. You don’t want to be worrying about making a good impression on someone like this. This is a different thing than psychotherapy. This person would have an insider’s perspective with your work.
Tool Number Two: Assemble a community of fellow wayfarers. The surest way to hold true to your path is to share it with others who are going your way. Develop the habit of holding nothing back from them. When disillusionment shows up, they will be your hand-holds and footholds to a welcome second naivete.
Tool Number Three: Develop a meaningful spirituality. To live a life that makes a difference, you are going to need a deep well that never runs dry. Make sure that you structure daily disciplines around this well. Inspiration alone will not sustain this kind of journey.
Tool Number Four: Get a life. Nurture hobbies. Engage in aerobic exercise that feels more like fun than something good for you. Eat delicious food with good friends. Read books for fun. Play with kids when you can, or adults who haven’t forgotten how to be kids.
Tool Number Five: When the time comes, mentor someone in your field. Nothing will freshen your ideals like an idealistic person who reminds you of when you started your journey.
DIALOGUE
What stood out for you in this essay?
Which of the “tools” in this toolkit do you utilize? How do you go about that?
Was there a tool that prevents burnout for you that wasn’t mentioned?
Can you name a time that caused you to lose your naivete?
When have you had to work at holding onto your values? What helped the most?