“Telos” signifies “end.” “Teleology” is the belief that nature acts for a purpose, and this purpose pulls us along behind it like a magnet. My next-door neighbor, with whom I’ve had discussions, fiercely denies that the cosmos acts for an end. I only know my own soul, and that it does have purpose. This moment, at 4am, I am thinking in terms of “whatever gets you through the night.” I infer that the sun will rise in a few hours, and before an asteroid collides with the earth. I have faith that the daylight will arrive. And, like a sunflower, my head will track its progress across the sky all day and energize. Biological clocks do exist as we follow the sun on our dial. It’s only biology, perhaps. It may be a leap to imagine that the cosmos is just as organic as anything on earth. Perhaps my pooh-poohing neighbor has a point.
At Easter worship, the worst happened: public humiliation. Approaching the altar with the choir, I took a misstep and nearly fell. Two other guys steadied me and helped me to my place. It was an accident. My mind was full of doubts about what I was doing there. I was maybe the only person in the sanctuary without faith. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My black hat made me look like some bum. The singing went okay, however. We were applauded. After service, I walked home alone, dejected and derelict. What is my purpose now? Only to get through the night, and from here, get through every day without drinking. That is my telos.