Discussion précis by Robert Travis

A 15 year old spoiled rich kid falls overboard on a luxury liner off the Grand Banks of New England and gets picked up by a cod fisherman. Four months later he has been transformed into a respectful, and industrious young man. What meaning can we take from this story? It seems Kipling is saying that being part of a group of men who face danger and a hard life in order to achieve a worthy goal is perhaps the essence of a good life. More than that though is doing something well with some degree of expertise. Disko’s “We’re Here” did it right, some others sunk when they did it wrong; there is no honor in doing it wrong. 

“The sea is selective, slow at recognition of effort and aptitude, but quick in sinking the unfit” Felix Riesenberg

For us who consider ourselves as Christian men, we also consider ourselves as transformed, the old self is dead and we are anew and alive now in Christ. Our actions should like the men of the “We’re Here” bring us a good catch; however you imagine that as manifesting itself. 

Christian or not the principle Kipling puts forward applies to all men. Men who are willing to work hard and expertly to achieve a worthy goal; that is a good life. Kipling’s poem “If” is another example of his thinking of what is required to be a good man; if you haven’t read it, it is a great read (see below).

It’s eight bells and we are all ready for some healthy grog.

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If
By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you   

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

    But make allowance for their doubting too;   

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!