The Last Lecture

While covering for a high school English class recently, I spied a book whose title, The Last Lecture, caught my attention.  This bestseller from 2008 was authored by Randy Pausch, a computer science professor, during the months following the diagnosis of his terminal pancreatic cancer.  I found the book intriguing, if for no other reason than it gives one cause to consider the question:  If I had only a few months to live, what words or other legacy would I wish to leave behind?  Given the book’s popularity and time since its release, much commentary has already been offered.  One can even see via YouTube! the actual lecture Pausch delivered at Carnegie Mellon University in 2007, the content of which parallels that of the book.  The following are some thoughts on each of the book’s nine chapters.

Chapter 1:  “An injured lion still wants to roar.”  In this opening chapter, Pausch talks about his desire to leave something of himself behind for the benefit of others, beginning with his own three young children.  It’s hard to deny there is something admirable about the resolve to do something positive in the face of a terminal cancer diagnosis.  It may be intrinsic to our nature to wish to leave some footprint of our existence on the sands of human history.  But of course, footprints on the beach eventually get washed away by the unceasing tides of time.  As Catholics, we know the best thing we can do for our children is to give them the faith.  (I am grateful that my parents did this for me, and I wish I had done a better job as a parent in this regard.)  Ultimately, the best thing we can do for others is to be instrumental in bringing them into the Church.

Chapter 2:  “My life in a laptop.”  Pausch describes the process of putting together his presentation, comprised mainly of photographs from his life.  He makes mention of a waitress he’d once met who shared with him that her pregnancy had been “an accident.”  This leads Pausch to ponder those things in life that are unplanned (such as certain pregnancies, terminal cancer, etc.).  He makes a valuable point that, while we can’t always control the cards we’re dealt, we do have some control over how we play them.  Not a man of faith, Pausch does not go so far as to talk about the redemptive value of suffering, though it seemed at times his mind may have been drawn toward the consideration of such a thing.  It’s often said that “everything happens for a reason.”  Strictly speaking that is true, since every effect has a cause.  It is, however, important to understand that, just because everything “happens for a reason,” doesn’t mean that everything is a result of God’s express (perfect) will.  But whether undesirable circumstances are the result of divine providence or human sin, we know that grace can draw forth good even from the seemingly worst.

Chapter 3:  “Elephant in the room.”  Pausch begins his presentation by sharing pictures of the malignant tumors on his pancreas.  He does this to drive home the point that, despite his outward appearance of health, the reality is something quite different.  This brought to mind a former colleague of mine at a Catholic high school where I taught for many years.  This teacher had photos of aborted fetuses displayed in his classroom as a way of making plain the grotesque reality.  But the principal, arguing they were too brutal, demanded that the pictures be taken down.  I suppose reasonable minds can disagree about whether the display of such photos is appropriate for a school classroom, but it does seem that we’re often reluctant or timid about calling things out that are inherently sinful.

In a culture where white elephants are given free reign, it may be that we’re afraid of calling them out for fear of being trampled.  Or perhaps we’ve just gotten used to them.  In the school where I currently teach, I hear the f-word constantly throughout the day.  No one seems to take any notice, not even teachers or administrators.  (This should come as no great surprise as Vice President Harris dropped an f-bomb during a recently filmed public talk.)  And while ethnic slurs or sexual orientation name calling are strictly taboo, taking the name of Jesus Christ in vain is just part of the daily vernacular.  At a recent social function, a man introduced another man to me as his “husband.”  I politely nodded as if that were completely normal.  I often wish I’d had the courage to say, in charity, “No, he’s not.”

Chapter 4:  “The parent lottery.”  In this chapter, Pausch expresses his gratitude for being blessed with parents who nurtured his creativity and the pursuit of his childhood dreams.  The affection articulated by the author reflects an admirable ideal.  We should all be grateful for our parents, if for nothing else but our very existence.  Beyond that, we are commanded to honor them.  And the command makes no distinction based upon the perfection or lack thereof of parenting skills.  For myself, the fulfillment of this command has always seemed easy, based upon what I’ve perceived as my parents’ inherent goodness and self sacrifice.  At the same time I often worry, through my own faults, that I’ve failed to honor them in a higher sense.  Likewise, I pray my own children will find it in their hearts to honor me (for their own sake, not mine) in spite of my shortcomings as a father.

Chapter 5:  “Elevator in a ranch house.”  Pausch shares a story of how his parents had permitted him, as a kid, to paint the walls of his bedroom with whimsical decorations including a faux elevator door.  This is meant to demonstrate the importance of allowing children to express their creativity in an uninhibited fashion.  He also tells a story of how he, as an adult, poured a can of soda onto the back seat of his car as a way of communicating to his young niece and nephew that he wasn’t concerned about them possibly spilling food or otherwise making a mess.  This little lesson may be valuable insofar as it conveys an understanding that human beings are more important than material possessions.  At the same time, we also know there is an inherent value in the setting of boundaries, not for the sake of inhibiting creativity, but rather for physical and spiritual well being (which in turn can actually better facilitate creativity).

Chapter 6:  “Getting to zero G.”  At the beginning of his lecture, Pausch presents a short list of his childhood dreams, one of which is to experience zero gravity.  As a college professor, he was able to achieve that dream when a group of his students was chosen by NASA to participate in a zero gravity simulation flight.  Because teachers were not permitted to accompany students, Pausch had to “resign” as the instructor and submit an application to participate as a “journalist.”  With this story, Pausch highlights the frequent need in life to know how to bend or circumvent certain rules.  While there is no “getting around’ the laws of God (even many Catholics think we somehow can), we do often need to be “cunning as serpents” (yet “innocent as doves”) when it comes to certain unjust laws of man.  (For, if such laws contradict natural law, then they really are not laws at all.)

Chapter 7:  “I never made it to the NFL.”  Another of Pauch’s childhood dreams was to be a professional football player.  While that dream wasn’t realized, he does give considerable praise to his former little league coach.  This coach, according to Pausch, was very “old school” and drove the team to strive for mastery of the game’s fundamentals.  And he would not tolerate anything less than the highest level of effort from his players.  In a culture where we often seem to coddle and be hypersensitive to feelings, there is much about that coach’s qualities that resonate.  One story relates how the coach was riding young Pausch particularly hard during practice.  An assistant coach reassured, “Be glad he’s being rough on you.  If he didn’t say anything, that would mean he’d given up on you.”  This is something that strikes a chord on the strings of Christian love.  We know that love, far from being a mere feeling of affection, demands that we chide one another when necessary.  We also have the reassurance of knowing our Heavenly Father never gives up on us.  (It may be the case that hardships and tragedies in our lives could be wake up calls to help get us back on the right path.)  While it’s true that God never gives up on us, we (tragically) often give up on him.

Chapter 8:  “You’ll find me under V.”  Yet another of Pausch’s childhood dreams was to contribute an entry to The World Book Encyclopedia.  He would eventually realize this dream with the acceptance of an article he submitted on the subject of virtual reality (hence, the “V” from the chapter’s title).  But there was another “V” from the book that stood out in my mind, especially since Pausch mentioned it more than once.  At least twice, Pausch shared his decision to have a vasectomy.  Apparently, after his diagnosis, he decided to have the operation, presumably to spare his wife the potential burden of raising an additional child without a father.  While I reluctantly approach judgment of others in exceptionally difficult circumstances, it’s yet impossible to disregard the Church’s teachings with regard to sterilization.  I have to wonder whether it might ever have occurred to Pausch that, beyond any lecture, perhaps the greatest thing he could have given his children was the gift of another sibling.  (Pausch also mentioned in this chapter that he came to question the validity of things in the encyclopedia, since apparently no one really fact-checked the article he had submitted.  This led me to think of the whole subject of the need for valid authority in connection with sacred texts.  But that’s another article…)

Chapter 9:  “A skill set called leadership.”  It’s tempting here to offer up some commentary regarding the leadership in the Church today.  But I won’t.  There are already plenty of greater minds than mine weighing in on that subject.  In the book’s final chapter, Pausch expounds upon the qualities of leadership and another of his childhood dreams – to be Captain Kirk.  (He came about as close as anyone could to this dream by meeting the real William Shattner.)  Pausch makes reference to something from one of the Star Trek films – a Star Fleet training simulator (The Kobayashi Maru) that presents new recruits with a situation for which there is no possibility of a positive outcome – a no-win scenario.  A young James Kirk, unwilling to accept such a scenario, managed to rewrite the simulation program to allow him to come out on top.  Mr. Spock would later say that Kirk had cheated.  But Kirk, in his own defense, would say that he merely adapted and overcame.  We know that God does not subject us to tests for which there is no hope (though it can certainly appear that way at times).  Aided by grace, there is always hope and the assurance of eventual victory.  But without grace, life becomes one big Kobayashi Maru.

It’s also interesting to note Pausch points out that, in Star Trek, the role of leader is assigned not to the character with the greatest powers of reason, but rather to the one with the strongest will.  A good friend and former colleague of mine once pointed out the way in which the characters of Kirk, Spock, and Bones represent the parts of the triumvirate soul – the will, reason, and the passions, respectively.  Again, something for another article perhaps.  At any rate, for us Catholics, we have an entire army of heroes to look up to – the Church Triumphant, the saints.

On the whole, I very much enjoyed reading The Last Lecture.  The author was a man of many admirable qualities.  Having grown up in the ‘80s, I could relate to many of the book’s anecdotal tales and cultural references.  Pausch mentions religion in the book only a couple times and only in passing.  (He makes at one point a joke about having had a “deathbed conversion” that led him to purchase a Macintosh computer – a joke that perhaps only a 1980s computer geek would understand.)  It does seem to me that a man as intellectually curious and analytical as Pausch would have at least explored the claims of the Church and given them due consideration.  (Indeed, I know of many who have come into the Church by means of an appeal to the intellect.)  In the absence of the illumination of grace, it does seem to me that, somewhat ironically, Pausch’s understanding of reality was akin to the “virtual reality” to which he devoted his professional life.  He had some sense of a higher good, but it was limited to the realm of human “imagination” and the fulfillment of childhood dreams – a realm where the one true church is Disneyland.

A certain undercurrent of thought ran through my mind as I read The Last Lecture.  What is the fate of men like Randy Pausch, a man of generally good will who honored his parents and sacrificed for his own wife and children, yet did not, ultimately, accept the one true faith?  Can we reasonably say it was through no fault of his own?  I have a Pentecostal friend who, at least in many ways, leads a life quite apart from many of the current cultural norms that are contrary to natural law.  In this regard, there is a wholesomeness to his way of living, yet his religion is primarily based upon a rejection of the sacraments and authority of the Catholic Church.  Will he see the beatific vision?  I ask the same question about my atheist friend, perhaps the most intelligent person I know, who conducts himself by principles rooted in good will, though he regards religion as folly or worse.  Will I see this friend on the other side of eternity?  (I certainly make no presumptions about my own destination.)  I’d like to close with an invitation to readers to weigh in on this larger question.