Seth Dorman

For The Maine Campus

Self-fulfillment is our generation’s dominant cultural narrative. It’s assumed on campuses everywhere. Two of the most elevated tropes of this narrative are adventurous world travel and apocalyptic romance: to be independent and enjoy multi-cultural adventures, and to find the perfect soul mate, who is never boring or disappointing and will compliment and complete you in every way. One of the lowest — yet most ubiquitous — expressions of this narrative is the “selfie.” This master narrative is clear: self is ultimate. Self-fulfillment is the road to joy. Follow your dreams — and no one else’s. More than any other group of people, college students are products of this narrative and serve to advance it. But much of the time we are unaware just how completely we have accepted it, and how dangerous its ramifications are.

I get the strong impression from a lot of folks that I exist to make myself cool: to build myself up like I am my own résumé, to have experiences, learn skills, achieve self-actualization, etc. Here at school it is as though we are all trying to build ourselves into our ideal, to make ourselves marketable and likeable. Even as we work to make ourselves attractive, we cling to an ideal of individualism. We want people to respect, admire and like us, as long as it doesn’t cost us anything personally. We desire affection, as long as it serves us and doesn’t demand the sacrifice of our own dreams. We want community for the sake of what it can provide for our individualistic, self-centered image. This is the master narrative of our generation.

This narrative breaks down in inconsistencies because it is a fiction — the universe does not revolve around us. Centering our focus, energy and attention on ourselves is contrary to the nature of the universe. It would be like the planets deciding to orbit themselves rather than the sun; it would cause significant problems. Humanly speaking, this leads to burnout and disappointment, because we were made to be fulfilled with more than ourselves. It also leads to relationship problems, because two people who are trying to be friends while prioritizing their own self-fulfillment will inevitably clash. Exploitation, no matter how well hidden, causes difficulties. This doesn’t mean life is to be one long, joyless sacrifice of our own dreams for those of others. I don’t think we are meant to be pushovers, nor are we meant not to dream and not to endeavor to achieve those dreams. But the restless pursuit of self-fulfillment is not the path to real joy.

If the master narrative of our generation is wrong and has such disastrous ramifications, we need a new master narrative. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus makes a painful, striking statement. He says that the way to gain life is by giving it away — that the path to joy is the path of self-sacrifice: “Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” In the Gospel of John he says, “Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves me, he must follow me.” Following Jesus means dying for those who do not deserve it. Paradoxically, it is here — in dying to self in order to live for Jesus and others — that fulfillment is finally felt and joy is finally found. This narrative causes people to pour themselves out in love for others. This is the narrative our universities need.