I want to be good.

Partly this is vanity. It feels good living worthily, seeing one’s being as clay to be shaped. I seek my own approval and that of those I admire. I fall far short, but that failure seems forgivable, provided I tried. I enjoy the oddity of my objective. Goodness isn’t everybody’s goal. Some seek fame, others wealth, others power, others comfort, others an improved score at some game. If everyone wanted to be good, our world would be better, but I’m not holding my breath.

My way of being good is to write truly and treat my loved ones as I would hope to be treated. If you’re reading this, you’re among my loved ones.

The definition of good changes in time of war.

In peace folks tend to be pleasant with one another. Troublemakers are discouraged – things are OK, so don’t rock the boat. In war priorities shift. To hell with being nice, we want to survive. Eat or be eaten. Do or die.

America has been sliding toward civil war for decades. Now hostilities are overt, invectives whizz, guns are being fired. We must choose up sides. For most the choice is easy. Why anybody would side with my nemesis is beyond me, but that’s their lookout. I know which flag to salute and who my enemy is. Do or die.

I’m puzzled how to be good in this time of war.

Battling Satan, are any means acceptable in pursuit of victory or are there ethical constraints? Is it better to lose honorably when you could have won viciously? Does your enemy’s misbehavior license yours? Isn’t victory the only good outcome, no matter its cost? Isn’t honorable warfare an oxymoron?

These are tough questions I’d never wrestle if the occasion didn’t warrant. Satan’s a wily litigator who can argue any side. He can talk rings around me. I seek this guidance for myself, not to impose it. I want to be good – that is, as good as possible under the circumstances. How to think this through?

In high school, a course on morality was mandated (imagine!). It was boring – who cared. We learned about “situation ethics,” a supposedly new moral scheme at the time. Good was defined not in absolute terms but in context. For example, might it be right to kill Hitler, though it was wrong to kill? Agape, the old Greek term for unselfish love – that is, love for mankind – was the deciding factor. If you killed Hitler because you loved mankind, you could still be good.

Albeit squishy, this construct seems the best available. Trust your heart to steer you right. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the great German pastor, plotted to kill Hitler (and paid with his life): that was a moral act, not a violation of an absolute prohibition. God was OK with it.

In America, God-awful things are occurring daily in our country’s name. I’m ashamed – and scared. It would be good to stop it – but how? I don’t know. But I do know that it would be evil to do nothing, or disavow this mess as “not my fault.” Nor can I flee. T.S. Eliot served as an air raid warden during World War Two. It was help an oldster could provide.

Survivors of this war will have time to reflect on our involvement. Did we do our utmost to rescue civilization or did we funk it? Are we guilty or innocent before the merciless tribunal of self?

I hope to survive not just the war but self-scrutiny. May I, by my lights, do myself proud. I want to be good.