By Michael Pakaluk

What is the meaning of life? I shall tell you.

That life should have "meaning" is a distinctively modern concern. In the classical world, it was enough if a life were good, successful, and reasonable. We all strive for happiness, it was said: what could "meaning" possibly add?

In the classical outlook, however, it was taken for granted that any natural reality, such as human life, inherently has a telos (i.e., an end towards which it tends). Take away that telos and one looks for a meaning distinct from that thing. In a Christian culture, testimony to the truth becomes paramount, and therefore signs, such as the crucifix.

We must define terms. Let us say that if something is such that it should point to something, then that to which it points, when it points as it should, is its "meaning." The question of whether a human life has meaning is therefore the question of whether it is such as to point.

An example may clarify. A working weathervane points in the direction of the wind. A weathervane, then, by our definition has a meaning: its meaning is the wind's direction. That is "the point of a weathervane."

It is necessary to qualify and say that something has meaning "if it is such that it should point," because a weathervane might be broken, or impeded. In such cases, it still has a point, indeed, but it does not succeed in pointing.

Human life is such that it should point, but we through sin and ignorance ruin it and impede it from pointing. Christ, however, is the Savior of life's meaning as well. Christ makes even a life of sin and death a life that can point. And Christ endows us with new ways of pointing, too, in the "order of grace."

A human life can point, and therefore it can have meaning, in each of the three ways that anything at all can point to something else.

First, something which is tending towards another points to that towards which it tends. An arrow, for instance, points to that towards which it was set flying. That is why an arrow on a sign means the direction to which the arrow would be flying, if it were a real arrow.

We were made such that our hearts are restless until they rest in God. In creating us, God let us loose towards Himself. Therefore, by nature a human life is such as to point to that which gives it rest. But more than this, through deliberate choice we can make this fact about ourselves salient, by living in such a way that it is clear that we take our final home to be union with God and the peaceable communion of angels and saints.

The clearest way of showing that a life tends to this goal, is by making sacrifices which would make no sense except for this goal. Newman calls these "ventures of faith." We might call them "pointers." Those who sacrifice their very lives in this way are called "witnesses" by the Church, "martyrs." A martyr is someone who by deliberate choice has saliently made Christ the meaning of his life.

Second, a part points to the whole of which it is a part. One vertebra found by a clever paleontologist signifies to him the whole dinosaur. An American in Paris stands for and represents his country, whether he wishes to or not. A footnote completes the meaning of a cited sentence by giving its full context.

A human life can acquire meaning in this second way insofar it shows itself to be a part of, and therefore it points to, each of the three institutions of which it is meant to be a part. These are the natural institutions of country, family, and the supernatural institution of the Church. That is why an unchurched atheist, who conceives of himself as belonging to a global network mainly - and who is childless besides, and alienated from his parents - has completely deprived his life of this second kind of meaning.

Third, that which resembles something, points to that which it resembles. A life of imitation is, to that extent, a life with meaning, since it points to what it imitates. We moderns searching for meaning have gotten it completely wrong...