While thumbing at random through “Town & Country Social Graces,” a 2002 collection of lively essays by different authors on “propriety without the stuffiness,” I came to one of the book’s final entries, “Invisible Grace” by Owen Edwards. The author links civility with kindness, from which there springs a certain grace and beauty of the human spirit.
Manuals like “Social Graces” have long attracted American readers. As a youth, George Washington copied out and then put into practice “110 Rules of Civility & Decent Behavior,” a list of maxims which, composed by French Jesuits and later translated into English, were popular during his time. Mid-19th-century guides to manners, dress, and customs such as “The Ladies’ Book of Etiquette” and “The Gentlemen’s Book of Etiquette” were highly praised and sold well, and are still available today. Many other guides to manners followed, with perhaps the most influential being Emily Post’s 1922 “Etiquette.”
Whether stated directly or not, the philosophy behind any good etiquette book remains the same. In the film “Blast from the Past,” one of the characters, Troy, nicely sums it up this way: “I thought a ‘gentleman’ was somebody that owned horses. But it turns out, his short and simple definition of a lady or a gentleman is someone who always tries to make sure the people around him or her are as comfortable as possible.”
Manners Maketh Man
In turn, genuine civility breeds kindness.
The sentiment and meaning behind, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” appear not only in the Bible, but in cultures around the world. That adage, which has become something of a cliché, lies at the heart of all real etiquette. Once put into practice, it leads us into another realm—that of kindness.
Recently, a Methodist friend told me of a pastor, an immigrant from South Korea, who headed up one of her committees. In a culture that has seen the erosion of civility, this man stood out for his polite treatment of everyone. Moreover, as my friend and many others discovered, those good manners were only the gateway into the heart and mind of one of the kindest men they’d ever met. His manners were not a façade, but a welcome mat.
In the scriptural story of the Good Samaritan, we find another example of the goodness that results from this combination of manners, friendliness, and generosity. The Samaritan comes across a stranger lying by the roadside, beaten half to death by robbers. Like the travelers preceding him, the Samaritan might have crossed the road and continued on his way, but instead he binds up the man’s wounds, takes him to an inn, and pays for his room and board until he has recovered.
From this convergence of courtesy and consideration there flows that invisible grace: joy.
A Do-It-Yourself Experiment
Although often difficult to discern, evidence for this connection exists. In literature, for instance, we find one of the most spectacular illustrations of this phenomenon at the end of “A Christmas Carol.” There, a renewed Ebenezer Scrooge, now very much aware of his rude and mean-spirited treatment of others, delights in his spiritual makeover: “I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a schoolboy.”
Here’s another example, this one taken from life. In mid-June, I traveled south to attend the funeral of an in-law, a man and a friend I’d known for 30 years. On the night before the funeral service, while waiting for the evening visitation to begin, I happened to encounter the office administrator of the funeral home. This 30-something woman was as polite as could be, and her demeanor and face struck me as kind. It occurred to me that she was an ideal candidate to ask about this question of joy. After I’d briefly explained my writing project, we sat together, and I asked her what joy, if any, she took from her work.
She thought for a long moment, then said, “I view this job as a ministry to help people at one of their lowest points that we all will face. It’s a hard job and challenging, but there is joy that comes from knowing you helped someone as much as possible through a hard time.” She paused again, then added, “You can be joyful, and not necessarily happy.”
And there it was, an answer as succinct as any scribbler of words could hope for. Respect for others, kindness, and service: These are components in that invisible force we call joy.
Anyone can test and confirm this thesis. Think of the people you know well who seem most to look outward at others rather than at themselves, who treat with consideration both those they meet for a passing moment and those they’ve loved for a lifetime. They may be unhappy at times, they may grieve a great loss or become angry at some undeserved rebuke, but those are passing clouds, moods brought on by circumstance.
As with that young woman mentioned above, within these people we find the grace of joy.
