As I’ve pondered heroic perseverance this week, I keep coming back to this famed quote from Theodore Roosevelt (I’ve changed “man” to “one”):
It is not the critic who counts; not the one who points out how the strong one stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the one who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
Brene Brown brought this more fully into our collective conscious when she named her book from this quote, but it has been a rallying cry for heroically persevering souls long before that.
Roosevelt draws a distinction between those on the sidelines and those in the arena. The critic, the sideline judge, is marred by cynicism. There’s a negativity at play, as well as hypocrisy. The critic feels free to judge while doing nothing to fix whatever problem or issue is at hand. And, like a sports viewer, the critic is in no position to compare skills with the one he’s judging.
Think about it: No Monday morning quarterback could outperform even the worst professional quarterback. And that brings an aspect of ridiculousness to it, doesn’t it? Who do we think we are, telling professional athletes and trained doctors and experienced teachers that we know how to do their job better than they do? But we do it all the time.
So part of what Roosevelt teaches us is to choose humility over hubris. He reminds us of the laziness of cynicism. He warns us not to spend our lives in the peanut gallery. If we’re going to offer critique, let it not be with the smug sideline satisfaction of throwing peanuts from on high.
In a society where snark and judgment are prevalent in social media everywhere, these are lessons worth heeding. I’m often overwhelmed by the amount of nit-picking I see toward people who are in their arenas. They’re doing their work and making mistakes and trying their hardest. Of course they aren’t perfect. And I know it’s important and necessary to bring critique. But I think we could all be more charitable about the way we offer it.
The rest of the quote extols the merits of pursuing heroic perseverance– of striving valiantly, of persevering enthusiastically, of daring greatly. Roosevelt speaks honestly about the blood, sweat, and tears of the work. He’s honest about the inevitable failures. But he’s clear in communicating that the work is worth the effort. The alternative is to be a cold and timid soul.
And soul ninja, we are not here to be cold and timid souls.
We are here to be enthusiastic about the life we have been given. The word enthusiasm comes from the Greek, and it means “infused with God.” So there’s a spiritual aspect to this heroism; it’s connected to the Beyond that surrounds us, that precedes us. It’s on us to do the work, but our energy is supported and supplemented.
The last thing I want to say about Roosevelt’s declaration of perseverance is that he understands it takes courage to keep going after we fail. It’s an inevitable part of the process. We know this, but that doesn’t keep us from allowing those feelings of defeat to hang over our heads. And we often give up or get stuck here. Heroic perseverance accepts that we simply won’t get it right all the time. It means learning to let it go and keep going. Heroic perseverance asks us to return to our enthusiasm and not our inner critic.
I don’t know what your arenas are right now, and which ones are threatening you with failure and overwhelm. But I offer you prayers of discernment. May you know which ones are asking you to exit, and which ones are asking you to stand up and keep going.