Two Standards

Here is my reimagining of Ignatius’ meditation on the Two Standards

Imagine you are at a crossroads in your life. You have been invited to two job interviews with two very different potential employers. The first is a huge multinational company with an annual turnover of hundreds of billions of dollars. As you approach the building for the interview, you notice its imposing architecture – it’s clean, shiny, and modern. The lines are straight and nothing is out of place. No expense has been spared, because the people who work here are important and their work is highly profitable. You introduce yourself to the receptionist, who smiles at you in a way that makes you feel important. She directs you upstairs to the office where you interview will be held. As you walk past, you notice impeccably dressed employees using the latest technology and original artworks lining the walls. You are welcomed into an office where you meet your interviewer. He is wearing a designer suit, diamond-studded cufflinks and an expensive watch. He sits behind an expansive desk; he is clearly a powerful, wealthy, respected individual. He asks you a few questions so easy that you barely need to think about your answers. He then goes on to tell you about the role, how important the position is and how they need to find just the right person, and that it looks like it could be you. He hints at the salary, which is a figure so huge that you can scarcely believe it. He mentions that working for this company would open all sorts of doors socially and even politically. He speaks with a charismatic ease and conviction. But there is something about him that makes you hesitate. You wonder what it might cost you to accept this well-paid, high-profile job offer and whether you might become filled with pride? As the interview ends, you leave the meeting room and look once more at the people working in the offices as you walk past. You notice something about the way they work: self-assured but something else…perhaps also a little empty? You pick up the company’s annual report on the way out, it’s filled with photos of happy employees and grateful customers, along with graphs and charts describing the economic successes of the previous year. The description of their main activities is ambiguous, but you soon realise that, in order to operate, this company must cause massive environmental destruction. It displaces indigenous people from their lands and exploits the most vulnerable. At face value, this opportunity it incredibly attractive, and it certainly appeals to some part of you, but there’s also a disquiet that is growing in your heart. You have another interview later the same day. It’s in a part of town you do not know, and as you make your way through this unfamiliar landscape past rundown housing and overflowing bins, you wonder if the address you were given was correct. Grass is growing in the cracks between the paving slabs and you can hear birds singing. You knock on the door of a shabby, dilapidated old warehouse that is covered in graffiti. The door opens and you are welcomed in by a somewhat dishevelled-looking young man, with a scruffy beard and wrinkled clothes. His eyes are bright and sparkling, there is a joy within him that radiates in a way that is contagious. He thanks you for coming, and apologies for the surroundings – he explains that he doesn’t have his own office, but borrows whatever he can when he meets up with people. You both sit down on chipped plastic chairs in a dark corner and he asks you some piercing questions about your reasons for applying for the job and what you really want in life that really make you think. He tells you about the work of his organization, of the service it provides, and of the deep impact for good that it has. He promises you meaningful work and growth in character. He warns you that the pay is terrible, that they have very limited resources, and that you would have to take a drastic cut in your standard of living. Then he tells you that people won’t value the work you would be doing; most think it’s pointless or foolish, some even think it is dangerous for society because it threatens to upset the status quo. He warns you that your family and friends will probably struggle to accept your new employment. Your mind is telling you that accepting this job would be a crazy idea, but your heart is telling you something else – there is something about this man that is deeply attractive and good, you wish that you could become like him, you want to spend as much time with him as you can. He has a beautiful humility about him. You meet some of his workers on the way out, but in fact they seem more like his friends. They have a similar joy and openness, despite their obvious poverty. You take your farewells, and on your journey back home you consider the two offers you have been given. The first offer is well-paid work that is valued by society – something you could be very proud of in a worldly sense – but you remember the emptiness of the workers, your discomfort with the interviewer, and the impact of the company’s operations. The second offer of work is very poorly paid and underappreciated – but you reflect on the beauty you saw in your second interviewer and his workers, their purity of spirit and humility, and the ways working with him would be positive for the world. What do you decide to do? Talk to the Trinity about it, one person at a time.