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‘Some conjurers say that number three is the magic number, and some say number seven. It’s neither, my friend, neither. It’s number one…  Only to show you my meaning clearly,’ said the Jew, raising his eyebrows. ‘To [secure your own prosperity], you depend upon me. To keep my little business all snug, I depend upon you. The first is your number one, the second my number one. The more you value your number one, the more careful you must be of mine; so we come at last to what I told you at first—that a regard for number one holds us all together, and must do so, unless we would all go to pieces in company.’

– Fagin in Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist

This passage from Oliver Twist has often wound its way through my thoughts over the years since I first encountered it, and it has grown to have substantial meaning for me.  While the complete and original context the message was one of mutual dependence based on shared knowledge of misdeeds and certain doom if caught, I have come to believe the general principle Fagin was attempting to describe is more universally applicable.  If you truly understand the nature of your priorities it becomes clear that you cannot simply focus on the “number one” without jeopardizing other priorities that are critical to sustain “number one.”  In fact, the more you understand the nature of the truly important things in your life, the more inseparable they become.  The concept that there are discrete and independent “number one” priorities in life seems to me a fundamental fallacy of modern creation that has led to untold frustration, failure, and heartache.

This belief of mine, however well founded, is sure to exclude me from the club of motivational speakers, guidance counselors, and self-help authors who hawk a brand of snake-oil based on the promise that simply putting “first things first” will ensure success and happiness.  They promise eagerly gaping audiences (who incidentally have heard the message before) that if they only take an inventory of their lives and selves and articulate what they find in a rank-ordered list of priorities the path forward will become clear and achievable without giving up things that are substantially important.   The truth, as I see it, is far too complex to simplify into a bumper-sticker reduction of much more intricate concepts and realities.

Take for example a perhaps typical top five breakdown that any superficial inventory may produce:

I challenge anyone with even a superficial understanding of the true nature of any of these five items to describe to me how it is that any one, two, three, or even four of these priorities can be satisfied at the expense of the others.  For example, families were instituted by God for the benefit of man as part of His work and glory.  Failure in the family equates to failing God in a very real way.  Attempting to divorce serving God from meeting family obligations is a guaranteed way to break both.  God cannot be pleased with us unless we are striving with our fullest strength to meet our family obligations, and we won’t meet our family obligations in real terms unless we serve and seek to please God with similar intensity.

Perhaps tying the top two priorities together is a poor example since they are so intimately related at a fundamental level.  As an alternative, consider the final of the five indicated priorities – Professional Obligations.    We have a duty to produce a fair amount of work for the wages we receive.  To do otherwise is a rotten mixture of dishonesty (breaking faith with the contract employment represents) and theft, pure and simple.  I know of no main-stream faith tradition where dishonesty and theft are acceptable to God, and consequently failing in professional obligations is failing God.  I cannot satisfy “number one” unless I satisfy number five.   Furthermore, I cannot fulfill my family responsibilities without the work and associated income tied to my professional obligations.  Number two depends on number five.  And, to bring us full circle, I won’t be capable of fully meeting my professional obligations if my family or faith are in crisis.  Five depends on one and two.  Once enlightened to this mode of analysis, it becomes easy to show that none of these five priorities can possibly be satisfied in isolation.  However, because I don’t feel like spelling it out at the moment, I’ll pull the same cop-out authors of my old math textbooks would use… “the proof is left to the reader as an exercise.”

I suppose the counter argument would be along the lines that by taking care of the high-priority items, such as the five listed above, you will have the clarity to eliminate “chaff,” ample time to accomplish all that is needful, and have time, resources, and energy to spend on the lower-priority things that are worth doing.   The funny thing about assertions of fact like this one is that it only takes one counter-example to disprove it.  Without going into detail and revealing information that either isn’t mine or not for public consumption, I state unequivocally that I have irrefutable counter-examples.  I assert that it is not only possible, but extremely frequent that any given subset of “number ones” intertwine to form a web that binds as impossibly tight as any chain that blacksmith ever forged.  Once bound by this web of entanglements, ones ability to manage schedule, priority, resources, and desires without failing in some aspect is debilitated just as surely and completely as the body of one who is incarcerated in a maximum security prison.

Reflecting on this reality, it is easy to become disheartened or depressed.  Every one of us are in a position where we simply can’t win; and failure, we are often told, is not a option.  Personal limitations and resulting shortcomings or failures are tied intimately with some of the most bitter memories and moments in my life.  Coming to terms with the inexorable reality that there is noting I can do to avoid some level of failure is not something I can simply accept as inevitable without substantial cognitive dissonance and internal anguish.   Unfortunately, I am periodically forced to do just that.  Cognitive dissonance and anguish are close friends of mine, as I have repeatedly been put in a position where I cannot meet the demands placed upon me, have attempted to muscle my way through while juggling a dozen or so flaming spears of responsibility, and have been burned or crushed when a miscalculation or external influence caused me to skip a beat.  The delicate balance and rhythms that had kept everything in motion don’t handle disruption well, which brings the side-show to an abrupt and spectacularly disappointing end as I try to rescue at least a few of the things I was juggling while gravity regains its foot-hold and pulls them to the floor with a crash.

Given the inevitability of failure, the next logical conclusion may be that we simply must accept failure for what it is and give up trying.  This, however, is a terrible fallacy.  Failure is a critical aspect of growth, and this life is a time for continual growth and learning.  We must accept failure as inevitable, but must not accept it as the standard for performance.  Failure is the feedback mechanism that stimulates growth and identifies weak spots that need strengthening or reinforcement.  Had we always been unwilling to fail (only do things we are good at), we would all still be helpless fleshy slugs nursing on our mothers teats, and I can’t imagine that as a desirable state of being much beyond the first few short months of life.

I remember being somewhat risk-averse as a kid, but also remember attempting things I was completely unprepared for only to fall flat on my face (sometimes literally as my mother can attest).  While the often painful feedback had consequences that were unpleasant and sometimes lasting, in the end it didn’t stop me from doing and getting better at many things.  Take for example learning to ride a bicycle… I don’t know of anyone who learned to ride a bike as a kid who didn’t crash and burn several times in the initial stages.  Even then, most of us still managed to crash along the way as we began pushing limits and exploring the edges of the envelope.  In my case, I have a very vivid memory of being thrilled to have finally gotten vertical and in motion on a neighbors bike (which incidentally didn’t have breaks and was in motion well before the era of bike helmets).  Unfortunately, I was incapable of balancing the demands of riding a bike at the time, lost focus, and crashed into the grille of the Avon Lady’s car.  It hurt in ways I won’t describe beyond telling you the cross-bar on the bike was taller than my legs could comfortably straddle.   In every respect, my initial foray into riding a bike was a spectacular failure.  Had I then the kind of timidity that comes with age, I doubt there would have been a second attempt without some form of coercion.  However, I had the fearlessness of youth and became quite adept at operating two-wheeled, self-propelled transportation in spite of several subsequent failures that included knocked out teeth, stitches, and other unpleasant consequences.  In fact, I came to love bikes and spent lots of time and miles pedaling through all kinds of urban and wild terrain including rather difficult and technical rides that should have given me pause.  The energy and hopefulness of youth was able to experience failure, learn from it, and move on without debilitating hesitation.

Maybe this is part of what Christ meant when he directed us to be like little children.  Children are willing to take risks and accept failure as part of the learning process.  When they encounter failure, they may cry, complain, whine, or otherwise flounder for a while, but in general they are willing to try again because they understand it is part of the price of learning.  Each and every one of us on this earth have great potential and fail to meet it to some degree because we aren’t willing to risk much.  We need to accept that we will fail, at least for a season or in some respect.  We may fail even at important things like whatever it is we label as “number one.”  However, in doing so we need to avoid throwing our arms in the air and giving up.  The key to failure is to acknowledge it, see if there is something we can change to avoid it in the future, accept it if we can’t, and “pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again” as one of my wife’s favorite children’s songs advises.   Failure is a fact.  There is no way to avoid it, but there are ways to turn it to our benefit if we accept it for what it is: the the moderating force that balances risk and a forcing function for learning.