A few months ago, I began noticing extreme cloud changes. I’m sure they’ve always been there, but for the first thirty-five years of my life, I failed to see them.
In the past year, though, I’ve seen and taken pictures of a few of these storm fronts.
These abrupt changes strike me as beautiful. They also remind me of The Book of Jeremiah in The Old Testament.
For most of the book, Jeremiah prophecies doom and gloom for Israel. He explains the terrible agonies the nation is experiencing because they’ve turned their backs on God.
As I read the book, I kept thinking, “this is terrible. Is it ever gonna end?” Every page seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. I’d flip through and see that I had many pages to go.
Then, around verse 16 of chapter 30, there is an abrupt change. Chapters 27-29 are entirely prose. Chapter 30 is almost entirely poetry.
For the first half of chapter 30, the Lord recounts the pains of Israel.
All your lovers have forgotten you;
they care nothing for you;
for I have dealt you the blow of an enemy,
the punishment of a merciless foe,
because your guilt is great,
because your sins are flagrant.
Why do you cry out over your hurt?
Your pain is incurable.
Because your guilt is great,
because your sins are flagrant,
I have done these things to you.
(Jeremiah 30:14-15)
But then, in verses 16 and 17, it all changes. It looks, to me, exactly like those sudden, drastic changes in the cloud formations.
Therefore all who devour you shall be devoured,
and all your foes, every one of them, shall go into captivity;
those who plunder you shall be plundered,
and all who prey on you I will make a prey.
For I will restore health to you,
and your wounds I will heal,
declares the Lord,
because they have called you an outcast:
‘It is Zion, for whom no one cares!’
(Jeremiah 30:16-17)
Thus says the Lord:
Behold, I will restore the fortunes of the tents of Jacob
and have compassion on his dwellings;
the city shall be rebuilt on its mound,
and the palace shall stand where it used to be.
Out of them shall come songs of thanksgiving,
and the voices of those who celebrate.
I will multiply them, and they shall not be few;
I will make them honored, and they shall not be small.
(Jeremiah 30:18-19)
Unfortunately, Jeremiah darkens again in the remaining chapters. The ending is not a happy one. Too, in the pictures of the cloud changes, the storm is as often coming as it is going. But those small moments in between, when everything is changing, leave us with awe. They remind us that, through clear skies and storms, something wonderful is happening.
Vice is a virtue these days. Indulgence, lavishness, and vanity are held up as some of the highest goods. Phrases like “retail therapy,” “guilty pleasure,” and “sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll” are almost viewed as positive values. On the other hand, virtue is seen as a drag. We hear, “go big or go home,” “nice guys finish last,” and “don’t be a buzzkill.”
While there is an ounce of truth to each of these phrases, the bigger idea behind them—that virtue is a bummer or a bore or a waste of life—is a misconception. The truth is, virtue is beautiful, and it leads to the best possible life.
Before we can see why virtue leads to a better life, we have to understand what virtue actually is—something ordered, proportioned, and aligned with reality, much like beauty itself.
Let’s consider beauty. If you’ve ever used word processing software, you’re probably familiar with line justification. If you set the software to right-justify, all of the lines are lined up along the right side of the page. To justify lines on a page is to order them a certain way. In order for this to happen, there needs to be a boundary around the page—the margins—for the lines to be ordered against.
These two attributes—borders and justification—go a long way in producing a beautiful representation of text on the page. In fact, these two attributes are important components of anything beautiful. Take a look at this lithograph, titled “The Good Shepherd,” by Gebhard Fugel.
Most obviously, there is the rectangular boundary that makes up the outer edges of the image. All of the main elements within the border—Christ, the sheep, the clouds, etc—are justified in relation to both the border and to one another. When these elements are well-ordered, clearly defined, and proportional, the image is more beautiful. There is a certain balance, a certain uniformity, to the whole scene.
The uniformity is not perfect, but this doesn’t diminish the beauty of the image. In fact, if the image was perfectly uniform, it would lack another important component of beauty: variety. According to Edgar Allan Poe, “the “Uniformity” is the principle: — the “Variety” is but the principle’s natural safeguard from self-destruction by excess of self.”
These two central components of beauty—uniformity and variety—are aligned with the very nature of reality. Iain McGilchrist, considered by many to be one of the greatest neuroscientists and philosophers of our time, comes to a similar conclusion about the nature of reality as Poe does about the nature of beauty.
In an extraordinary lecture, titled “Division and Union,” at Ralston University, McGilchrist explained that both division and union are important, and that it is “the business of the unfolding of the cosmos to make [distinction within sameness] grow and flourish—an eternal creative unfolding of generality into uniqueness. It’s what we mean by there being anything at all.”
He used snowflakes as an example. “No two snowflakes have the same structure. But interestingly, each arm of the snowflake obeys the same pattern that each other arm of the six arms of the snowflake obey…They seem to me to be a beautiful example of beauty and complexity that give rise to things that are unified and unique, and yet have interesting parts that make them the whole that they are.”
Photos by Wilson Alwyn Bentley.
So, in beauty and in the very nature of the universe, there is uniformity and variety. These are determined, in large part, by the borders and justification of its components.
Let’s look at justification again. The word, justification, comes from Late Latin iustificationem. It means, “administration of justice.” (https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=justification) We generally think of justice in terms of laws and the legal system. A judge serves justice. But on a deeper level, it is much like justification in word processing software.
Justice, in the legal sense, means a boundary is set and enforced, a line is drawn in a place deemed fair or right. Justice in terms of beauty is, similarly, all about forming the boundaries of the materials in the right relationship to themselves and to other boundaries, giving them uniformity and variety. Think back to justification in word processing software. It’s all about lining things up a certain way, relative to specific boundaries.
Ultimately, though, justice is not just a legal term or a component of a beautiful document. It is a virtue, a way of being in alignment with the true nature of reality.
It is the virtue of justice that underlies all of these other fields we call justice. According to Aristotle, virtue is “the golden mean between two vices,” and “means doing the right thing, in relation to the right person, at the right time, to the right extent, in the right manner, and for the right purpose.”
When Poe spoke of variety being the natural safeguard from uniformity’s self-destruction by excess of self, he was talking about a “golden mean between two vices.” Variety prevents uniformity from being excessively uniform, and uniformity prevents variety from being chaotic. These virtues compose beauty. Their excesses, which are vices, produce ugliness—disproportionality, injustice, disorder, etc.
In the same way, the promotion of indulgence, lavishness, and vanity, as the highest goods is vicious. Indulgence is the excess of temperance (deprivation is its deficiency, the other end of the golden mean of temperance). Lavishness is an excess of spending and consuming (stinginess is its deficiency) while generosity is the mean. And vanity, in our culture, is the excess of self-worth (low self-esteem is its deficiency).
On a surface level, indulgence sounds great. It means I get to eat all the ice cream I want. But in reality, it’s a shallow, unrealistic approach to consumption. Sure, limiting myself to one scoop of ice cream might feel restrictive in the moment, but the true buzzkill is the lethargy and health issues that follow excess. Temperance leads to a better, more beautiful life.
To favor vice is really just to take a shallow view, to aim lower, to miss the bigger picture. It is to not understand the true values of things, or to understand them but still fail to put them in the right order. To live virtuously is to put things in their proper place just the way a painter does with strokes on a canvas. To live virtuously is to live beautifully.
To do so, we must learn the nature of reality and align our actions with the highest values. Then, we are in a position to live our best lives. It’s time to stop settling for less. It’s time to raise ourselves beyond the limited ways of vice.
When I was eleven years old, I rode a boat to Catalina Island with my family.
At that age, my number one priority in life was to laugh, so, naturally, I brought a whoopee cushion with me.
A couple foreign men were seated near us, saying something in another language. They were inches away, but they might as well have been in another country.
That was, until they saw me tricking my grandma into sitting on the whoopee cushion. Then they started laughing. We all made eye contact and connected almost like old friends.
We bonded over simulated farts, and I learned that laughter is a universal tongue. It’s a bridge that connects souls even when the high walls of language divide them.
This animal, as smart as a machine, watches the whole world with a few slight twists of its neck, yet never loses sight of the carrion.
It perches atop a nicked, scuffed, bright orange traffic cone; another of man’s inventions that wail out over all the rest of the natural world.
The crow doesn’t care. But I do. Why do we insist on maximums? Why are we so loud? And where is the place untouched by hype? I want to go there.
I am not at home here, among man’s inventions and machinations. I am at home where nature is observed, not trampled. I am at home among lovers, not CEOs. I am at home where freedom reigns, not frictionless transactions.
There’s a lot of journalism about the dark things. That’s important because we can’t be whole until we integrate what is in our shadows and we can’t integrate what is in our shadows until they are illuminated.
But I have something else to report. This can be my contribution to journalism.
There are beautiful walkways cloaked in fresh air. And as the sun sets, the clouds have turned pink and purple and orange at the same time. And there’s a sycamore tree that has seen more sameness than I ever will. And two fawns are having a bedtime snack in a field. And the air is cool, but not enough for a sweater. And the moon is half, and the color of half and half.
Broadcasting from just north of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, I’m Joseph Kreydt. To all the dark places and to all the light, good night.
Courage, unbind me from the shackles of fright. Wisdom, unblind me from the darkness of night. Justice, define me as I step to the fight. Temperance, restrain me when I lust for delight. Patience, unwind me ’til the hour is right. Hope, be my tower. Faith, be my might. Love, be my shepherd Through the edge beyond light.
