Gleason’s words of vulnerability and gratitude

by Peter Finney Jr.

The juxtaposition hardly could have been more jarring.

On Thursday, July 11, former New Orleans Saints special teamer Steve Gleason, speaking to the world from his wheelchair at the Dolby Theater in Los Angeles with the assistance of eye-tracking technology, offered a 458-word parable in his synthetic voice on the meaning of life and love.

Forty-five hours later, on Saturday, July 13, a would-be assassin crouching on a metal warehouse roof in Butler, Pennsylvania, came within millimeters of silencing former President Donald Trump with a bullet directed by a telescopic sight from 148 yards away.

The unexamined life

In a world gone mad – in a country shaken to its 1960s core – the message seems to be clear: We need to examine our unexamined lives.

In so many ways, the ALS that has challenged but failed to consume Gleason holds up an inescapable mirror to our own, largely unexamined existence. The parable of Gleason’s life has opened a window to the mystery of suffering.

When Gleason spoke to the credentialed class at the 2024 ESPY Awards, his 12-year-old son Rivers was at his side, one hand resting on his father’s shoulder and the other holding the “Arthur Ashe Award for Courage” that his dad had just received.

Gleason has had nothing but time to examine his life and his purpose.

One of his favorite books is Viktor Frankl’s “Man’s Search for Meaning.” The Jewish psychiatrist was a Holocaust survivor who spent three years in four different concentration camps. Those who survived those camps were able to find meaning in continuing to live and by giving thanks for even the smallest things in the midst of a situation they could not control.

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way,” Frankl wrote.

The amazing thing, as St. Ignatius of Loyola discovered after having been maimed by a cannonball, is how much gratitude can flow from adversity.

But, the thing is, you have to think and pray about it, and Gleason has.

“To be courageous, we must first experience loneliness, unworthiness or any of the faces of fear,” Gleason said. “I was told I would have three years to live when I was diagnosed with ALS in 2011, so I’ve got the wilderness of fear tattooed all over me.

“The truth is, no human is immune from fear or adversity. Not even super athletes, royal princes or the most holy saints. Considering this truth of our humanity, it’s vital that we all, individually and collectively, discover ways to be courageous and love the life we have.”

Memoir reveals purpose

Times-Picayune sportswriter Jeff Duncan collaborated with Gleason on his recently released memoir, “A Life Impossible,” and he has been astounded by the degree to which Gleason has transformed personal suffering into purpose. Gleason’s witness has transformed and expanded access to assistive technologies for those suffering from ALS.

Tweeting about blessings such as the soft kiss of a sunrise, Gleason has offered hope.

“Steve believes that our greatest strength is sharing our pain and suffering with each other as humans,” Duncan said. “We all have these vulnerabilities, and we all face adversity in different ways. Certainly, not all of us have a terminal disease diagnosis, but we all have hurdles to overcome, and we all get lonely. He believes that the strength is in opening yourself up, whether it’s to your religious beliefs or your loved ones, and you gain strength through that.”

Gleason explained in Los Angeles that the fears and adversities we face “are our opportunity to accept what is and explore what is on the other side of fear, to grow stronger, better.”

“Then, peace of mind from this perspective, resiliently moving through the adversities life brings us, is our purpose in being human,” he said.

As recent events have shown, the world is infected with hate and with mental illness that feeds on hate. Political discourse has become a zero-sum game in which there is room for only one winner and one loser. Unhinged people are introduced to and overwhelmed by hate.

The worst thing we can do now is throw up our hands and retreat. Our interconnectedness is never so apparent as when an act of violence severs it. We need each other.

Gleason’s vulnerability speaks volumes.

“Without the understanding and compassionate support from my family, community and caregivers, I’d have been dead years ago,” Gleason said. “Through this lens, you can see we’re all in this together. We are all citizens of the world. Given our interconnectedness, the greatest aspect of our purpose is to generously help, serve and love others.

“Do we have the courage to unconditionally love our neighbors, our ‘so-called’ enemies, and love ourselves? I don’t think anyone will disagree that we face enormous challenges in the 21st century. If we can courageously share our fears and limitations with each other and compassionately collaborate to solve problems, our human potential is boundless. If we can listen, understand and help alleviate each other’s suffering, then, truly, all things are possible.”

Love one another

In 2016, as recounted in his memoir, Gleason visited St. Mary’s Dominican High School to deliver a talk on the topic of faith. He said in his reading of the New Testament, he never once saw Jesus saying, “Convert thy neighbor to yourself and your personal beliefs.”

“He said, ‘Love thy neighbor,’ which is a much more complicated and difficult command,” Gleason said. “Humans have the conquer-and-convert thing down to a science, whereas I think we have a long way to go to loving our neighbors.”

Gleason said then – and now – that he rarely prays for God to heal him.

“Most importantly, I enjoy my life,” he said. “I pray for my daily breath, my strength, my ingenuity to continue living the life I love, my life with purpose.”

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