A recent conversation with a colleague focused on interview techniques. Actually, in our relatively small congregations, we don’t do that much interviewing. We don’t have many employees and when we have a change of employees we usually don’t have many applicants. The average lead pastor in a congregation is probably interviewed by others more often than she or he interviews candidates for jobs. Nonetheless, the topic came up and we were thinking of questions that might be asked to give the applicant an opportunity to reveal something of his or her character as well as a simple demonstration of job skills. In that conversation, the question that struck me the most was this: “When was a time that it cost you personally to tell the truth?”

There are many times when we are silent instead of telling the truth. Sometimes we justify our actions by claiming that we don’t want to hurt another’s feelings. Most of the time, we are trying to avoid conflict and disagreement. We are uncomfortable with being in a situation where we disagree and often we don’t want to highlight the disagreement so we simply say nothing.

Felling a bit uncomfortable, however, isn’t exactly paying a high price for the truth. I think that if I were asked the question about a time when it cost me personally to tell the truth that I probably would squirm a bit and have to think seriously before answering. The reality is that I haven’t had to pay a high price for the truth in my life - and giving that honest answer during the interview might just cost me the job bering offered.

It seems to me that one of the characteristics of modern society is that demonstrations of courage are few and far between. Politicians seem to be most likely to assume the convictions of their largest donors. It is often very difficult to see anything close to personal convictions in a political leader. What is labeled “integrity” often doesn’t come from within at all, but is rather consistency in a particular position. It takes far more courage to listen carefully to an argument and to be open to changing one’s mind than it does to simply repeat the same rhetoric and continue on a course of action despite the evidence being offered by those with whom one disagrees. Genuine political courage, it seems to me, might involve doing what one believes is right even if the action means the loss of a contributor or perhaps even the loss of an election. We’ve placed such a high value on winning, that we celebrate victories even when they come at the cost of integrity and honesty. There are occasional scandals when a sports hero is caught openly cheating through the use of drugs or manipulating the game in some other fashion, but the scandals soon pass and what is remembered is who won and who lost.

Thinking of truth and courage makes me wonder what other core values we have failed to encourage in our shared life. If we have created a society that values success over truth and rewards compliance over courage, do we also discourage genuine love in place of short term gain? I’m guessing that the answer is yes.

New York Times columnist David Brooks speaks of the difference between what he calls “resume virtues” and “eulogy virtues.” We often focus on the parts of our lives that might bring wealth, fame or status. When we prepare our resumes, we emphasize the qualities and abilities we have that will help us achieve success - often success as defined by our status. A person’s eulogy, however, rarely reflects the various accomplishments and awards that appear in one’s resume. Instead, after one has died, people speak of courage and truth and love. They remember service and sacrifice over accomplishment and wealth.

Brooks’ observation has been made by many others. The oft-repeated statement “you can’t take it with you” is another way of saying the same thing. In the end, we will be known not so much for how much we gained, but for how much we gave.

The truth is that I am a long ways down the road of my career. I am not particularly interested in continuing to build my resume. I’m comfortable with the things I have accomplished and a bit chagrined by the things I have failed to accomplish. I’ve reached the stage in life where I probably don’t need to work on my resume virtues. In fact, I may never need to actually prepare a fresh resume again for the purpose of gaining employment. I do, however, care about my eulogy virtues.

It is abundantly clear that while one can control what is written in one’s resume, one has no control over what is said in one’s eulogy. After we have died, what remains is the impact of our inner character. In the big picture we will be known not for our limitations, but for our inner strength. In the big picture truth and courage and love count for far more than accomplishments, wealth and public acclaim.

We live in the age of the “selfie” a picture of oneself taken by oneself. I’m not much for such images. I get a picture of myself in the mirror each day. I see no particular need to publish that. More importantly, the most significant things that I have done in life so far have been projects shared with others. The important projects are always bigger than one person. The causes worth serving can’t be accomplished in one lifetime - they take generations.

I shan’t be thinking about my eulogy - there is time for others to take control of what they may or may not say, but I will think of the virtues that will remain when my time on this earth is finished. There are some causes that are bigger than I and some investments that will outlive my time.

Maybe next time I interview someone instead of asking him or her to tell of their best accomplishments I’ll ask, “What are the unfinished tasks that engage your passion and energy?”

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