Page:Leo Jung - Foundations of Judaism (1923).pdf/13



HE life of Tom, Dick, and Harry—to encourage these proverbial dignitaries—in itself has no meaning. To be born, to overcome measles and elementary schooling, to ripen towards a weekly cheque and the begetting of children, growing old and burdensome, dying of sheer senility,—if fate and the goodwill of our fellow-beings have not before withdrawn one from the limelight,—all this is common and useless and foolish to the degree of unrelieved boredom. Considered in itself, with its own little failures and smaller successes, with the ceaseless endeavor to make both ends meet, life is what old Lear so pathetically calls—“A tale told by an idiot, full of storm and stress, signifying nothing."

In spite of this pessimistic view, Tom, Dick and Harry are amazingly alive, and thriving. In spite of the drowsy sameness of their lives, they are keenly aware of romance awaiting them round the corner, of wonderful possibilities beyond the marvels of increased pay and bar gain days at the department store. They read their news paper with the mien of expert rulers of Man and talk big words about progress and improvement and such. They analyze their experiences and infer weighty wisdom from their variety. They feel all the time that something in them, however rarely it may express itself, that something in them has a fine dignity, concerns everybody, is in some strange way connected with mighty issues discussed by great men in the assemblies of the rulers, pored over by silent scholars in the quiet hours of the night. This