If anyone should have killed himself, it should have been Walker Percy.

So begins Fr. Damian Ference’s tribute to Dr. Percy.  Fr. Freence provides a succinct biography of Walker Percy (along with a history of suicide within the Percy clan), and encourages his readers to explore the Christian witness provided in Walker Percy’s literature.  One of the more interesting insights in the piece discusses Walker Percy’s uncle, Will Percy:

He didn’t speak much to Walker and his brothers about his faith, and although Will Percy was not a model Catholic, he nonetheless treated religion with an astute seriousness in his autobiography.  He wrote, “Without faith, people perish, and they are perishing before our eyes.”

I was particularly struck by the following quote in which he provides a wonderfully insightful context, not just for Disney’s next great leap forward in the construction of Disneyland, but describing the world that Walker Percy confronted as well.

America was undergoing suburbanization, a revolution in mass communication with the introduction of television in the early 1950s, increased physical mobility with automobiles, a national highway construction program and a boom in commercial airlines, new technologies, bureaucratization, and even the development of a new personality type to negotiate the new society–a type that sociologist David Riesman would describe as “other-directed,” or driven less by an internal compass than by a need to please others, and what William Whyte would call the “organization man,” who was concerned as much with managing the bureaucracy as acquiring skills.  What all these phenomena–from McCarthyism to suburbanization to the organization man–had in common, historian William Chafe would write, was that all were related “to the existentialist dilemma of finding a way to create meaning in the face of forces over which one had no control.”

Gabler argues that Disney’s response to this existential dilemma was to create an idealized world that he could control–in the form of his amusement parks.  Without the resources of Mr. Disney, Percy focused his efforts on diagnosing the problem and bringing it the the attention of modern man.

When Tom Moore asks Father Smith why he became a priest, his response is simply “What else?” When pushed to elaborates he says that given the chance, one must choose life or death.

For centuries monastics have committed themselves to service, but once he was no longer able to serve the dying, Father Smith simply climbed to the top of a fire tower and wouldn’t come down. However, even in his seclusion he had a mission. He scanned the horizon looking for signs of trouble. When he found it, he triangulated the source and sounded an alarm. We all know that you can’t see the forest for the trees, but from Father Smith’s lofty heights he clearly saw the forest reach from hilltop to hilltop.

What I’m wondering if what happens after the search? What happens when we realize that we are pilgrims in a strange land? Should we do the best we can walking through the woods, or should we take to a tower ready to sound the alarm?

Pick out your room at the nearest Howard Johnson motel. Begin to stockpile Vienna sausages, Campbell soup and Early Times whiskey. Things are getting interesting.

I am no expert on German literature, and “The Metamorphosis” is not exactly beach reading, but I listened closely yesterday when a grade 11 student stopped by to talk about a paper he had written on Kafka’s method of narration. This earnest scholar continually stressed that “point of view determines just about everything.”

I thought about his insight this morning during a primary grades assembly. A middle-aged couple spoke to the young boys about a triathlon fundraiser they were planning to benefit Sick Kids Hospital. They mentioned, almost in passing, that they were motivated to do this because their daughter had been diagnosed with leukemia at the age of 2.

Instantly, a hand shot into the air. “What happened to your daughter?”

The mom bit her lip and responded. “She’s no longer with us.”

Other hands shot up. “Where will I put my towel for the triathlon? And will there be candy there?”

I get it. Most of us are a bit self-absorbed, and there is a developmental piece, especially with young boys, that sometimes knocks the wind out of your sails. (Walker Percy used to refer to this as “the great suck of self.”) But to listen to a mother talk about losing her daughter, and then within a heart beat, to hear questions about towels and candy…

The mother handled herself with incredible poise. And the young boys seemed genuinely interested in helping with this great cause. But in the back of my mind, something about Kafka made me think that I was the one who had turned into a bug.

I soak up these gentle affirmations from strangers and loved ones alike. In a way, I like an affirming word from a stranger most of all. I suppose this is because I am superficial enough to believe that if I seem okay to the casual observer, I can probably fake my way through many of life’s hurdles.

I know this all stems from self-esteem issues. Can anything be more boring that talking about poor self-esteem? The phrase itself just drips with weakness. Those seriously afflicted with this condition are the personification of the pathetic. I’m not so naive as to believe that only the nerdy and lonely bear this burden. I’m sure the college quarterback and lead cheerleader also have self-esteem issues. Perhaps that was the very thing that pushed them to achieve tangible success. I have no idea whether we should blame nature or nurture for this affliction, but for some it is as strong as the bottle to an addict.

Achievement itself rarely helps, all it does is raise the stakes and the disease gets stronger. Some treatments that do help are the love of a dedicated spouse and the unconditional love of a child. Few things are better than the latter because not only is the love itself affirming, but the inner-strength that rises up once you know you must care for your child is incredible. However, this is no magic pill. Many parents’ self-esteem problems create a living hell of drama and even abuse for their children.

I think the disease points to its own cure. The constant need for affirmation and the root problem of poor self-esteem must be resolved outside of ourselves. Being human we attempt to seek solace in the affirmation of other humans. We hope that like an intricate jigsaw puzzle, our strengths and weaknesses will fit perfectly with converse strengths and weaknesses in others. Sometimes this helps, but a better solution is to move beyond the patchwork of human frailties and instead seek affirmation in the ultimate mystery of divine love.

Now, I will quickly say more than I know about how to seek affirmation in the love of God, but I know this is the key. I know that the complex story of creation and redemption lead us to this conclusion. I need to spend more time in thought and prayer on this, but I’m sure the only way I will feel ultimately affirmed is when I stop seeking a human solution to a spiritual problem.

Mr. Cuse went on to say that, “much of Coles teaching was centered on the question: how does one lead a life? What matters as we make our way on our journey? Those questions and that inquiry has stuck with me.” This reminds me of what I learned were the Four Diagnostic Questions: what is a good life and what good is life; what is a good death and what good is death; what is a good love and what good is love; and what is a human being? There is no doubt that LOST explores each of these questions in detail.

In an earlier interview, Mr. Cuse and his counterpart Damon Lindelof, mentioned that the works of C.S. Lewis provided a hint at where the show was going. It has been noted elsewhere that the mythology of the island shares much in common with Lewis’ Narina, along with the now obvious connection to The Great Divorce in the “sideways” flashes. It is pretty easy to earn my respect once you list Percy and Lewis as important influences.

I am impressed that Hollywood was willing to produce a show (especially one as expensive as LOST) that explored deep subjects and did justice to the viewer’s intelligence. Yes, the story of LOST had its flaws, but it was undeniably well told, complicated, and spoke about the depths of the human condition. After now seeing the ending, I’m struck even more by the ambitious nature of the story and impressed that the storytellers were able to tell it.