1Professor of Philosophical Anthropology at the ISSR “Ecclesia Mater” (Rome), president of the Association of Italian Philosophy Teachers (ADIF); editor of the journal “Per la filosofia. Filosofia e Insegnamento” (For Philosophy. Philosophy and Teaching).
Key words: Blondel, Guardini, Meaning of Life, Knowledge, Self‑Acceptance, Action, Decision.
Abstract: The dramatic historical moment we are living through has exposed all the weaknesses of our world, increasingly complex and full of contradictions. The fragility of our human condition has come to the forefront: suffering, illness, mortality, conflict are severely testing human resilience, bringing out the worst in us – our inhumanity – and putting human relationships at risk. Faced with so much pain and violence, even the meaning of life seems to fade. These reflections aim to offer some insights on this theme, together with that of self‑knowledge and self‑acceptance, essential elements for a self‑awareness capable of improving our existence and our decisions.
Introduction
The title of this contribution is Human Awareness: meaning of life, self‑knowledge and self‑acceptance[1]. I intend to offer a few reflections to bring out – as Einstein writes – “that light for our steps which we call the meaning of life,” aware that philosophy is gymnastics for thought, medicine for the soul, and nourishment for our inner life[2].
I asked myself: how can the theme of awareness be understood from a human point of view? The subtitle already clarifies what I mean from the perspective of my discipline – philosophical anthropology – because the three terms indicated outline the path toward “awareness.”
To do this, I will draw on two great thinkers: Maurice Blondel (1861-1949) and Romano Guardini (1885-1968), authors of two works respectively dedicated to the theme of action (L’Action) – connected to the meaning of life – and to that of Accepting Oneself, the title of Guardini’s essay. The whole discussion will be interwoven with an excursion into the Greek and Christian philosophical world.
The dramatic historical moment we are living through – after the Covid‑19 pandemic, with the conflict in the Middle East between the State of Israel and Hamas, and the war in Ukraine in the heart of Europe, the “world war in pieces” spoken of by Pope Francis, and the hope for “a disarmed and disarming peace” expressed by Leo XIV – has exposed all the weaknesses of our world, increasingly complex and full of cracks and contradictions.
In particular, the fragility of the human condition has become evident: suffering, illness, mortality, conflict are severely testing our resilience, bringing out the worst in us – our inhumanity – and putting human relationships at risk. Faced with so much pain and violence, what seems to fade, unfortunately, is precisely the meaning, the sense of life.
It seems that today an intimate suffering wounds everyone, especially the world of young people who, in their formative years, should be seeking and finding answers to the most important questions of life: “Who am I? Where do I come from? Where am I going? Is there a future for me?”
To obtain meaningful answers, we should be asking questions – but this is precisely what is lacking today! The decline of questioning is increasingly widespread, to the point that, as an Italian philosopher writes:
“Today most people no longer ask themselves thoughtfully – let alone religiously – why they live, where they come from, where they are going, but only wish to express themselves as an unrestrained and overflowing affirmation of self. Our civilization removes existential questions, which by definition cannot receive an immediate answer, and transforms them into requests easily satisfied here and now: ‘Where do I come from?’ becomes ‘How much do I earn?’; ‘Where am I going?’ becomes ‘What do I buy?’; and the question about the meaning of life has now become nothing more than gathering information about the price of things”[3].
Maurice Blondel and the Action’s Perspective
M. Blondel[4] expressed the complexity of the human condition in the opening page of his 1893 masterpiece L’Action[5]. There he raises decisive questions about the meaning of existence:
“Does human life have a meaning or not? And does man have a destiny? I act, yet without even knowing what action is, without having desired to live, without knowing exactly who I am or even whether I am. This appearance of being that stirs within me, these paltry and fleeting actions of a shadow — well, I dare say that they carry within themselves a heavy responsibility for eternity, and that, even at the price of blood, I cannot purchase nothingness, for it no longer exists for me: I would thus be condemned to eternity! But how, and by what right, if I have neither known it nor willed it? I will bring clarity to everything. If there is something to see, I need to see it. I shall perhaps come to know whether this phantom that I am to myself — with this universe I carry in my gaze, with science and its magic, with the strange dream of consciousness — has any solidity or not. I shall undoubtedly discover what hides within my actions, in that ultimate depth where, without myself and in spite of myself, I undergo being and cling to it. I shall know whether, regarding the present and the future, whatever they may be, I possess a knowledge and a will sufficient never to feel their tyranny. The problem is unavoidable; the human being inevitably resolves it; and this solution — right or wrong, yet voluntary and at the same time necessary — each person carries within his own actions. This is why action must be studied: the very meaning of the term and the richness of its content will gradually unfold. It is good to set before the human being all the demands of life, all the hidden richness of his works, so as to strengthen within him, through the power to affirm and to believe, the courage to act” (Blondel 1993, p. 65).
Through this dramatic and lucid questioning, Blondel highlights the paradox of the human being: we find ourselves thrown into existence (Heidegger will later speak of Geworfenheit), without having chosen to be, without knowing why we are, and without fully grasping who we are.
With psychological depth and philosophical rigor, Blondel sets out to investigate the essence and purpose of human action[6].
For him, the essence of the human being is neither pure thought nor mere being. Both find their unity and concreteness in action. If separated from action, they remain abstractions. Action is, on the one hand, lived experience; on the other, it is what gives meaning and value to experience itself, illuminating the meaning of life. Knowing, being, and acting are inseparable dimensions of the same human destiny.
Blondel’s originality lies in having recognized in the idea of action a key to interpreting the entire life of the human being. Since we must confront and resolve the problems that life places before us — including the problem of life itself — it becomes necessary to study action, because action expresses the totality of life, its demands and its works.
As Sorrentino writes: “With action comes the question of meaning – the meaning of life. The inquiry concerns life as a whole, as the universe of human action, knowledge, and passion, and it asks whether this whole possesses consistency or, conversely, inconsistency” (Blondel 1993, p. 7).
Blondel’s project must be understood against the backdrop of a profound crisis of meaning, shaped by the “masters of suspicion” — Nietzsche, Marx, and Freud — who dismantled traditional certainties and exposed the illusions of the past[7]. Their critique destabilized inherited values and opened a new horizon marked by estrangement, decentralization, and the collapse of stable foundations.
Blondel takes this crisis seriously. He does not avoid it; he confronts it head‑on, using suspicion as a stimulus to rediscover the conditions for the emergence of meaning. His reflection unfolds along three axes:
The radical acceptance of suspicion, in order to reach a meaning that cannot be questioned.
The identification of the conditions of possibility for meaning, with action as the epicentre of this process.
The religious dimension, understood as the lived experience of the supernatural — “the action of God within us.”
The treatise begins with the question of the meaning of life and ends with a philosophical affirmation filled with wonder: meaning exists. Blondel concludes with a single word that, for him, expresses the certainty born from the depths of personal action: “It exists.”
According to Sorrentino, Blondel’s attempt remains a contemporary experiment, one that engages the ultimate reasons of our civilization and confronts the fundamental question of our time: the meaning of life[8].
Blondel’s “fundamental intention”[9] is not apologetic in a defensive sense, but sapiential: a philosophy capable of uniting argumentative rigor with Christian truth. His aim is to reach a “true philosophy”: “Authentic philosophy is the sanctity of reason.”[10]
He summarizes his project with clarity: “As a believer, I have attempted the effort of a philosopher.”[11] “Living as a Christian, I seek how I must think as a philosopher.”[12]
Before proceeding, a crucial question arises: what is the relationship between the science of action (ethics) and the science of the human being (anthropology)? If we must begin from action to understand life, do we not also need an integral vision of the human being to understand the direction of action? This leads to the fundamental correlation between being and acting, between anthropology and ethics. As one author notes:
“Every ethical conception arises from a conception of the human being. The way we act and construct moral systems depends on how we answer the questions about human nature, origin, meaning, value, and destiny”[13].
This is decisive for understanding our time: our anthropology determines our ethics, and therefore our choices, behaviors, and decisions.
An Incursion into Greek Philosophy: Self‑Knowledge from Socrates to Christianity
“Philosophy” means love of wisdom, the search for knowledge oriented toward happiness. How?
Philosophy overcomes ignorance (Socrates) and fear (Epicurus) and becomes care of the soul and of the body: let us recall the “Hippocratic Oath,” the ethical commitment physicians make to exercise their profession honestly and conscientiously (awareness!), placing the patient’s well‑being at the centre – and let us remember that medicine has its origins in philosophy.
I dwell on Socrates – a paradigmatic figure of the Greek world – who, aware that only God is wise – declared: “I know that I do not know.”[14]
The “ignorant philosopher” places at the centre of his thought the famous motto “know yourself” (gnōthi seauton), which marks the discovery and acceptance of a limit – the human limit.
Greek philosophy does not deny a proper self‑love (philautia).
Knowledge as awareness and esteem of oneself will later be taken up and connected in contemporary philosophy: “Self‑esteem, esteem of the other, and just institutions” (cfr. Ricoeur, 1990).
The path of Greco‑Christian philosophy develops along the axis: know yourself, master yourself, give yourself. If we turn to history — which often, though not always, is “teacher of life” — it reminds us that the life of the Greeks, for example the inhabitants of Sparta, was marked by a form of “eugenic selection”: newborns were exposed outside the house to test their resistance to cold and hardship. Those who survived could continue to live; the others were eliminated[15].
Life in Sparta was shaped by a particular conception of male and female roles: the woman’s task was to bear children and she was socially confined to the home. The life of men unfolded in the “barracks,” where they lived and shared everything: training, combat, food, communal moments. Homosexuality was common practice and caused neither problems nor guilt.
The bonds among Spartan warriors were so strong – they constantly watched each other’s backs in battle, in hand‑to‑hand combat – that nothing could break their connection: thus, eros and thanatos (love and death) went hand in hand.
Something similar, though in different conditions, occurred in the more civilized Athens.
There flourished a great philosophical and scientific culture, politics and democracy; the arts, sports, and gymnastics were practiced; educational relationships between adults and youths were so intimate – intellectually but also physically – that pederasty was practiced[16].
These “barbaric” attitudes, incomprehensible to our sensibility, stem from the fact that the bodily dimension in the Greek world was considered inferior, “inconsistent,” compared to the Christian view. For the Greeks, the human being is his soul (psychē), and the divine in the human is the intellect (nous). Aristotle writes: “If therefore the intellect constitutes something divine in comparison with the human being, then the life according to the intellect will also be divine in comparison with human life”[17].
Epictetus (50-138 AD), a Stoic philosopher and true apostle of inner freedom, reached remarkable heights in defending the condition of slaves, calling “slaves” – not “masters” – the high‑ranking individuals of his time, and addressing one of them who had called slaves unbearable:
“Slave! Will you not endure your brother, who like you has Zeus as progenitor, who is born from the same seed and has the same heavenly origin? Because you occupy a higher position, do you immediately wish to set yourself up as a tyrant? Will you not reflect on who you are and who those are over whom you command? They are your relatives, your brothers, descendants of Zeus”[18].
Christianity, following Judaism, proposes a new idea that overturns all previous orders: the human being is created “in the image and likeness of God”: “God created man in his image; in the image of God, he created him; male and female he created them” (Genesis 1:27).
Creation is already a relationship, conferring on human beings a specific dignity, marked by freedom and responsibility, which makes them persons – rational individuals grounded in a personal relationship with God. This implies an idea of equality among all humans and the necessity of going out toward others, equal in humanity, as Christ became neighbour to us.
Saint Paul expresses this powerfully in Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free, neither male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”
Christian life is marked by a “new” commandment given by Jesus himself, which synthesizes the ten commandments of the first covenant with Moses: “I give you a new commandment: that you love one another; as I have loved you, so you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:34–35).
And on this love Christians – acting toward orphans, widows, and brothers under the yoke of slavery – surpass the Greeks in their attempt to alleviate human suffering. Pohlenz writes:
“Active love for one’s neighbour, agápē, the central motive of their ethics, appeared in ancient civilization as something entirely new and constituted a far more powerful incentive than Stoic sympathy or the philanthropy of late Greek culture to alleviate human suffering wherever it was encountered” (ibid., p. 761).
What is the anthropological vision of our time? If we follow the interpretation of Gianfranco Morra, an acute philosopher and sociologist, we might say that we live in the age of the so‑called “fourth man”[19].
After the first man (the classical Greco‑Roman world), the second man (the Christian world), and the third man (the modern world, marked by the rise of the subject — Descartes: cogito, ergo sum — and the Enlightenment – Kant: “Dare to know!”), we now find ourselves in an era where the conception of the human being is more faded, fluid, “liquid,” and consumerist: Consumo, ergo sum (Bauman).
Thus emerges the anthropological model/paradigm of the “fourth man” – according to Morra, afflicted by “post‑itis” — the man of the after (post‑history, post‑modernity), whose definition is easier to express through what he is not rather than what he is: a man without history, without religion, without meaning.
At this point, the lyrics of a song by Vasco Rossi come to mind, titled Un senso[20]:
“Voglio trovare un senso a questa sera / anche se questa sera un senso non ce l’ha
Voglio trovare un senso a questa vita / anche se questa vita un senso non ce l’ha
Voglio trovare un senso a questa storia /anche se questa storia un senso non ce l’ha
Voglio trovare un senso a questa voglia /anche se questa voglia un senso non ce l’ha
Sai che cosa penso /Che se non ha un senso Domani arriverà / Domani arriverà lo stesso”.
(“I want to find meaning in this night, even if this night seems to have none.
I want to find meaning in this life, even when this life appears to lack it.
I want to find meaning in this story, even if this story doesn’t seem to offer one.
I want to find meaning in this longing, even when this longing feels senseless.
And here’s what I think: even if meaning is missing, tomorrow will come – tomorrow will come anyway”).
Each person may interpret this text in their own way. Starting from the apparent non‑sense of reality (“the infinite vanity of all things,” as Leopardi would say) and from the impossibility of explaining many enigmas of life, the song leaves a glimmer of hope, reminding us that time passes, a new day approaches, and we must live – making choices – since “tomorrow will come anyway.”
Romano Guardini: accepting oneself
To address the question of the “meaning of life,” we can begin by confronting a fundamental question that resonates unceasingly throughout the existence of every human being: “Who am I?” To the temptation of giving immediate or simplified answers, we must oppose the anthropological courage of “inhabiting the question,” allowing ourselves to be patiently challenged so as to find, step by step, the right and adequate answers over the course of life. The human being is his own question, and this question accompanies him constantly, without ever finding a definitive answer, as Heschel affirms:
“But man in a stable and irrevocable form does not exist. It is rare to find the human being in a definitive form. Definitiveness and humanity seem to exclude one another. Man is bound to the polarity of being provisional, undefined, uncertain, and at the same time definitive, stable, determined”[21].
We must therefore face continuous approaches and “approximations,” aware of our potentialities and our limits, because we humans are at once “opacity and transparency”[22].
We must thus find a secure support in another certainty: in the patient and luminous acceptance of ourselves. It is not enough to know oneself (Socrates) or to master oneself (the Stoics and Epicureans), nor even to give oneself (Jesus and Christianity); first of all, one must accept oneself, fully and without hesitation, because from here begins – and finds fulfillment – the human journey. Romano Guardini[23] explained this well in his book of the same name, offering a stimulating path of reflection and action, thoughtful and responsible[24].
The premise of this itinerary he proposes is thinking – indeed, knowing how to think – that is, not remaining on the surface but going into depth: “Whoever truly thinks must learn to go beyond the appearance of the obvious and to immerse himself in the abyssal depths” (ibid., p. 7). At the same time, one must become aware of one’s own identity: “I am precisely what I am, each of us is himself […]. I am for myself the datum par excellence” (ibid., p. 7), and in every movement (act/action) I perform, I presuppose myself as “I.” This “I” stands at the center of my experience, even when I encounter my world, my country, my environment. This marks me and accompanies me, even if I attempt to deny or transcend myself: “Nevertheless, the connection remains; for it is still I who seek the way to step outside the boundaries of myself — not to mention that in doing so I carry myself along, and every glance, even the simplest, that I cast upon something contains myself as well” (ibid., p. 8).
The centrality of the “I” takes on dramatic features: “Once I exist, there simply is no world in which I am not […]. For each person, ‘world’ is his world; truly, there is no other. My ‘I’ therefore has the character of inevitability — one might almost say of a kind of necessity” (ibid., p. 8).
Guardini dwells on this “almost,” which he calls “admonitory,” because it calls into question the apparently self‑evident datum of our “self”: “For to myself I am not only evident, but also strange, enigmatic, indeed unknown” (ibid., p. 9).
This becomes perceptible when, looking at myself in the mirror, I question myself almost in a state of estrangement and experience
“a foreignness between me and my own image” […]. In the mirror it becomes evident how I, who seemed to be so solidly and exactly one with myself, become for myself an ‘object’ (ob‑jectum: placed before). What then does it mean to say: I am myself? Should I not with equal right say: I am not myself, but I hope to become myself? I do not possess myself, but I am on the road that leads to myself? I do not know myself, but I attempt to know myself?” (ibid., pp. 9–10).
At this point Guardini, citing Kipling’s Kim, recalls the figure of Kimball, the young protagonist who, sitting silently and repeating to himself “I, Kim… I, Kim…,” tries through his own name to reach himself, to become “self‑evident”[25], yet without succeeding: “The fact that he sought this,” writes Guardini, “was a sign that he did not possess it; and the fact that he never succeeded, that he could never succeed, expressed his collision with the limit of his possibility – that is, with his finitude” (Guardini 1993, p. 11).
Another example, taken from Nordic myths, is what Guardini calls the “spirit that follows”:
“According to this myth, the human being exists once as he is visibly, in flesh and bone; and he exists once more, and in this second way he is authentic. This authentic man, however, always walks behind the immediate man; therefore, he is called the spirit that follows. The immediate man does not see the authentic one: he only perceives that he exists, but ‘behind’ him, that is, in the realm of what does not appear. Once, however, this authentic one comes around, stands before him, and looks at him. Then the immediate man sees the authentic one; seeing him, he comes to know himself. One could say, recalling the story of Kim: his ‘I’ and his name become one. But this moment is death. From this arose the figure of the Valkyrie: in the instant in which she approaches the man she has chosen, he dies” (Guardini 1993, p. 11).
Here it becomes clear how relative and problematic that “I” is which we take as a given. Nor does it help to eliminate it, as German Idealism attempted, claiming that “the finite self is only the form that conceals the infinite one, that is, the ‘I’ of God” (ibid., p. 12). An idea that appears profound but is in fact mistaken and equally superficial, “because if I consider myself attentively, I know precisely that I am not absolute […]. But the idea is also superficial; for the true depth, as admirable as it is troubling, of our existence consists precisely in the fact that I am a person as a finite being” (ibid., p. 12).
But in what way are we ourselves? The question is legitimate because “I am not myself by essence, but I am ‘given’ to myself. Thus, I have received myself. At the beginning of my existence […] there is no decision taken by myself […]. Rather, at the beginning of my existence there stands an initiative, a Someone, who has given me to myself” (ibid., p. 13).
From this arises a commitment I cannot escape, a task to be faced with great responsibility, concerning the right placement of my “I” within my own existence and within the world:
“I have the duty to will to be what I am; truly to will to be myself, and only myself. I must place myself within my own selfhood as it is, and assume the task that is thereby assigned to me in the world. This is the fundamental form of everything called ‘vocation’ (Beruf); for from this I turn toward things, and within this I receive them. Let us express it negatively: I cannot avoid this task assigned to me; for example, by fleeing into fantasy and dreaming of being someone else: I am this and that… I do this and that… I have this or that ability… I play this or that role… Up to a certain point all this is innocent: thus, one rests from being oneself. But beyond that point it becomes the danger of fleeing from oneself” (ibid., p. 14).
This also means that I cannot flee from the evil that is within me (bad habits, accumulated faults), but must honestly and responsibly accept it, in order to overcome it, “in truth, because only truth overcomes evil: I am thus, but I want to become different” (ibid., p. 14). Guardini writes:
«The extreme form of fleeing from oneself is suicide. It is not idle to speak of it, for it is becoming increasingly one of the great dangers of our time. Fidelity is declining; even and especially fidelity to one’s own being. The sense that being‑oneself is a task is weakening more and more, because the awareness of having been given to oneself is disappearing. And since the ways of taking one’s life are becoming ever simpler, suicide becomes ever simpler and more banal» (ibid., p. 15).
This is a profound truth, and Guardini proves prophetic, perceiving the risks that return even today, in our own time, in which escapes and addictions of every kind dominate – alcohol, pornography, extreme sexuality – all the way to the schizophrenic lives of many individuals and the multiple identities that proliferate without measure in the virtual world. Guardini also asks whether ending one’s life is a sign of strength, as some claim, and with fine psychological sensitivity he writes:
«Does the potassium cyanide pill in one’s pocket not in fact cancel authentic courage? Real courage means knowing that one has been placed in a position – not by some commander, great or small, but by the Lord of existence, by God – and that therefore one must not leave it until He Himself calls. Only this gives seriousness to every deed and every daring. […] The task of existing can become very difficult. There is rebellion against having to be oneself: why must I? Did I ask to exist? There is the feeling that being oneself is not worth it: what do I gain from it? I bore myself. I disgust myself. I can no longer bear myself… There is the feeling of having been deceived about oneself; of being imprisoned in oneself: I am only this, and yet I would like to be more. I have only this talent, and I would like greater, more brilliant ones. I always make the same mistakes, experience the same failures…» (ibid., pp. 15‑16).
This situation can lead to boredom and the most terrible weariness, exhausting the inner forces of the person, even to depression. Therefore, an effective and preventive reaction is necessary – an effort of intelligence and will – which is called ascesis:
«Thus, the act of being oneself, at its root, becomes ascesis: I must renounce the desire to be other than I am, or even someone else entirely. How insistent this desire can become is shown in myths and fairy tales, recurring among all peoples, in which a man is transformed into another being: upward into a star, downward into animals, or into a monster, or into a stone… I must renounce having talents that are denied to me; I must recognize my limits and respect them. This does not mean renouncing the striving upward. This is permitted and even required; but along the line of what has been assigned to me… Yet I must not allow myself to be seized by resentment, by that attitude which reveals that I have not truly accepted and truly renounced, and which consists in doing badly what is forbidden to me» (ibid., p. 16).
How, then, can one overcome this impasse, give meaning to one’s life, and go beyond one’s conditioning and limits? The answer is simple and paradoxical: «At the root of everything lies the act by which I accept myself. I must consent to being what I am. Consent to having the qualities I have. Consent to remaining within the limits that have been traced for me» (ibid., pp. 16‑17).
Naturally, this is not easy, especially if, in addition to limits, I also become aware «of the deficiencies and defects of my being: damage to health; disturbances in psychic structure; burdens inherited from parents and ancestors; tribulations due to social and historical circumstances, and so on» (ibid., p. 17).
And if to all this one adds the question “Why me?”, the burden becomes even heavier, almost unbearable. But there is an even more radical question, one that is difficult to answer:
«To the question: why am I as I am? why do I exist rather than not exist […] no answer can be given that starts from my immediate being. Nor from my environment; indeed, not even from the world itself. All attempts to explain myself on the basis of presuppositions in community, history, nature, are equivocal. For what these ‘explanations’ answer are questions concerning the general context of material, biological, historical causes. But the question at stake here is entirely different. It is directed to something that exists only once – namely to me… And not because I am something important or extraordinary, but because I am precisely myself, and with this every placement within the universal ceases» (ibid., p. 18).
All this occurs because, as the author had already perceived, «the assignment to individual existence is not penetrable by the intellect» (ibid., p. 17), and therefore, to the question of how I am myself, there is – and perhaps never will be – a definitive answer:
«I cannot explain how I am myself; I cannot understand why I must be thus or so; I cannot dissolve my existence into some moral or historical regularity, because it is not a necessity but a fact; and at the same time, the decisive fact for me. It is as it is, and it could also be otherwise. It is, and it could also not be. And yet it determines from within my entire existence. All this means: I am not able to explain myself, nor to demonstrate myself, but I must accept myself. And the clarity and courage of this acceptance constitute the basis of all existing» (ibid., p. 18).
Guardini notes that this requirement cannot be fulfilled by purely ethical means; one must appeal to “something higher.” We then enter the realm of faith:
«Faith here means that I understand my finitude by taking my starting point from the supreme instance, from the will of God» (ibid., p. 19). From here the discourse opens onto God – “Lord by essence,” “over the world and over Himself” – and onto the name of God (the I‑am of Exodus 3:13‑14). But who is this God of whom we speak? Guardini writes:
«It is this God who has created me. Let us remain within our discourse: He is the one who has given me to myself. With this, our questioning ends. To ask further questions – for example, why He has given me to myself, and given me as this person, here and now – makes no sense, for it would show only that I have not understood what this word ‘God’ means» (ibid., p. 20).
For Guardini, the simple and definitive answer is: “because He willed it.” And he continues:
«The questions of existence: why am I what I am? why does what happens to me happen? why is what is denied to me denied? why am I as I am? why do I simply exist rather than not exist? — these questions find their answer only in reference to God» (ibid., p. 20).
If in Greek philosophy the search for the principle received various profound answers, for Guardini «there is only one that truly answers: realizing that my origin lies in God. More precisely, in the will of God, directed toward me, that I be what I am. And religiosity means continually receiving ourselves from this will of God» (ibid., p. 21).
From this derives a profound truth and a rule of existence:
«This is the alpha and the omega of all wisdom, the refusal of hybris, fidelity to reality, the honesty and resoluteness of being oneself, and with this the root of character. It is the fortitude that faces existence and precisely in this rejoices in existence. It is good always to reaffirm this Magna Charta of existing» (ibid., p. 21).
And it is precisely in this will of God that the human being finds equilibrium and fulfilment:
«Only from the acceptance of oneself does a path open that leads to the future — for each person, to his own. For to grow as human beings does not mean wanting to escape from oneself. To act morally does not mean renouncing oneself. We must criticize ourselves, but in loyalty to what God has founded in us» (ibid., p. 23).
In fact, the relationship with God is fundamental and the premise for safeguarding humanity from annihilation, as well as for caring for our relationship with others:
«Man does not come from nature, but from knowledge and love – which means from the responsibility of the living God. A man who came only from nature could not respect himself, just as an animal cannot. And it is important that we learn self‑respect, because the history of humanity threatens increasingly to move toward dishonouring man, just as it threatens to move toward his annihilation – and one becomes possible only through the other» (ibid., p. 24).
Therefore, if God respects me, making me His thou, I cannot annul respect for myself or for others:
“But God did not create the human being in the manner of the heavenly bodies, that is, as an object; rather, He placed the human being before Himself as His ‘thou’ and called him. And precisely in this way He made respect the foundation of the relationship into which He has placed the human being with Himself. Thus, the judgment that a person forms about himself must never annul the fundamental respect he must have before himself, for the very reason that God has this respect. And again: if I am given to myself, then in this very fact my possibility of life is also given to me; and if the One who has given me to myself is the Wise and the Benevolent — indeed, as Christ says, is my Father — then, according to Christ’s own words, He wills that I ‘may have life, and have it abundantly.’ Yet this realization of life can only be mine; not that of another. The path to every good thus begins from my essential constitution, and the strength of self‑acceptance means at the same time trust in this path” (ibid., pp. 24-25).
What, then, does it mean to be oneself? And what is the process by which one becomes oneself? It is a demanding and articulated journey that leads from beginning to fulfillment — and it is also a dying in order to live:
«Being‑I means indeed having a path, the one that leads from the I of beginnings to the I of fulfilment. It may pass through long detours, through tribulations and darkness; it may seem to be erased or covered, but it is always there, even when it leads through death. It is not pleasant to hear such things: they sound pathetic, and the conscience objects, asking whether the one who speaks takes this seriously himself. In the end, however, he must tell the truth even if he is not capable of matching it. Death is not what all the macabre chatter in philosophy, poetry, and art announces: the path passes through it» (ibid., p. 25).
All this is manifested through grace, which leads to salvation, and the human being is its beneficiary. Having heard the Gospel message and adhered to it, he is conformed to the image of Christ: «The God who redeems is the same God who creates; and the man to whom He gives His grace is the same man who was created by Him» (ibid., p. 26).
«The new life is born from a new beginning; but the one who is made to be born in this beginning is precisely the one who existed before. The old and the new, the fallen man and the redeemed man, are one and the same being. The new life has the character that Paul calls “being conformed to the image of Christ,” but the one who is thus conformed is the same man who was previously in disorder. Moving from His love, God gives him back to himself; but between the second gift and the first there is that identity signified by the word “being redeemed” » (ibid., pp. 26‑27).
Returning to the anthropological question — especially the relationship with oneself — we encounter the greatest difficulty:
«Daily nearness – writes Guardini – is a veil that conceals the peculiar. And when it is no longer a matter of people with whom we live, but the subject in question is myself? Then this is a greater distance than if I had to travel long roads. There is a book by the philosopher Keyserling in which he recounts how he traveled around the world to learn to know himself. To tell the truth, if one has read the book, one wonders whether he succeeded – succeeded better than poor Kim, who sat down beside a wall saying to himself: “I – Kim,” thinking he would reach himself, but in the end it was all useless… Yet there is another description, a very famous one, of how one seeks to reach the nearest thing – oneself – by the farthest road: Dante’s Divine Comedy» (ibid., p. 28)[26].
The journey leads the Supreme Poet through the depths of hell, purgatory, and finally to the ultimate ecstasy of the vision of God. Only when the mystery of Christ is revealed to the traveler does he «not only understand what lies beyond all reality, but also himself. After knowing who Christ is, he knows who Dante is – and at this point everything is truly in order» (ibid., p. 29). From this follows a fundamental rule: we cannot understand ourselves starting from ourselves, but only from above:
«Who I am I understand only in what stands above me. Indeed: in the One who has given me to myself. Man cannot understand himself starting from himself. To the questions in which the words “why” and “I” appear – why am I as I am? why can I have only what I have? why do I simply exist rather than not exist? – no answer can be given starting from man. Only God gives the answer» (ibid., p. 29)[27].
In short, according to Guardini, authentic self‑knowledge passes through conscious and sincere self‑acceptance – without compromise – and vice versa:
«It is truly possible to have knowledge of oneself only if one truly accepts oneself; and one can truly accept oneself only if one clearly knows oneself — the one presupposes the other. This unity is love. There is knowledge only where there is love. Of man there is no cold knowledge. Nor any knowledge in violence. But only in that magnanimity and freedom that is called love. And love begins in God: in the fact that He loves me and that I become capable of loving Him; and that I am grateful to Him for His first gift to me — namely: myself» (ibid., p. 30).
Conclusion
The reflection on the meaning of life, on self‑knowledge, and on self‑acceptance reveals how complex and fascinating the human journey truly is. Blondel, through his philosophy of action, reminds us that the human being cannot evade the task of shaping his own destiny: action is the place where being, knowing, and willing intertwine, and it is through action that meaning either emerges or becomes obscured. Guardini, for his part, invites us to a more interior and radical work: to accept oneself, to assume one’s identity as a vocation, and to recognize finitude as a space of freedom and responsibility.
The excursion into Greek and Christian philosophy has shown how the question “Who am I?” runs through the entire history of thought — changing form, yet never losing urgency. From the Socratic gnōthi seauton to the dignity of the human being created in the image of God, all the way to the crisis of contemporary humanity – the “fourth man” – a constant emerges: the human being is an enigma to himself, a task to be embraced, a question that cannot be dismissed without losing oneself.
In our time, marked by fragility, conflict, disorientation, and acceleration, human awareness becomes even more urgent. It requires:
• authentic questioning, not replaced by consumption or distraction;
• critical and profound thinking, capable of moving beyond the obvious;
• responsibility in action, which can build or destroy meaning;
• a luminous acceptance of oneself, allowing one to inhabit one’s own life without fleeing from it;
• solid human relationships, grounded in dignity and active love.
Awareness is not a destination but a journey: a process that unites interiority and action, identity and decision, limitation and possibility. In a wounded and disoriented world, it can become a path of healing, of reconciliation with oneself and with others, and of renewed hope.
To accept oneself as one is; to accept one’s own limits. This is the essence of the human condition, which recognizes itself as coming from an Other: from the height and the love of God. This leads us, by vocation, to the care of ourselves and to the service of others, with dedication and love. And perhaps it is precisely here that the meaning of life resides, in its most authentic and complete form, and consequently the true awareness of oneself, understood as a self‑possession that is manifested and fulfilled, paradoxically, as gift: I give myself, therefore I am.
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- This contribution takes up and further develops the essay by G. Cicchese, Senso della vita e accettazione di sé: Blondel e Guardini, in “Per la filosofia”, XL, 2023, 2-3, pp. 77-91. ↑
- Einstein, A. (2015), Il significato della relatività – Il mondo come io lo vedo, Newton Compton, Roma, p. 12. ↑
- Mancuso, V. (2021), A proposito del senso della vita, Milano, Garzanti, 2021, p. 23. ↑
- Dijon (2 November 1861) – Aix‑en‑Provence (4 June 1949). He studied at the École Normale and at the Sorbonne. On his tomb he requested the simple inscription “professor of philosophy.” His principal works include Action, Being, and Thought. ↑
- Cfr. Blondel M., (1993), L’azione. Saggio di una critica della vita e di una scienza della prassi, Paoline, Milano. ↑
- For further discussion, see Leclerc, M. (2000), Il destino umano nella luce di Blondel, Cittadella, Assisi; Manzo O. (1998), Immanenza, opzione e destino dell’uomo: Maurice Blondel e il senso dell’esistenza, in “Euntes Docete”, LI, 1998, pp. 229-242. ↑
- “For those who have grown up in the school of phenomenology, existentialist philosophy, the renewal of the Hegelians, and linguistic‑oriented research, the encounter with psychoanalysis constitutes a considerable shock. What is confronted and called into question is not one theme or another of philosophical reflection, but the entire philosophical project itself. The contemporary philosopher meets Freud in the same field of interests as Nietzsche and Marx; all three stand before him as the protagonists of suspicion, the unmaskers of pretenses. With them a new problem arises: the problem of the lie of consciousness and of consciousness as lie” (Ricoeur, P. (1977), II conflitto delle interpretazioni, Jaca Book, Milano, p. 115). ↑
- Cfr. Sorrentino S., Crisi o invenzione del senso? La filosofia dell’azione come impegno radicale per dare ragione dell’universo di senso, saggio introduttivo a Blondel, M. (1993), L’azione, p. 5. Let us recall that the Latin verb invenire means to find something at the end of a search (inventio). ↑
- Cfr. Bouillard, H., (1949), L’intention fondamentale de Blondel et la théologie, in « Recherches de Science Religieuse », 36, pp. 321-402. ↑
- Blondel, M. (1956), Premiers écrits, PUF, Paris, pp. 21-22, cit. in Latourelle, R. (1982), L’uomo e i suoi problemi alla luce di Cristo, Cittadella, Assisi, p. 238). ↑
- Blondel, M. (1932), Le problème de la philosophie catholique, Bloud et Gay, Paris, p. 44; cit. in Latourelle, R. (1982), p. 238. ↑
- Archambault, P. (1956), Lettre sur l’apologétique. Les premiers écrits de Maurice Blondel, PUF, Paris, p. 7. Cfr. Archambault, P. (1928), Vers un réalisme intégral. L’œuvre philosophique de Maurice Blondel, Bloud et Gay, Paris. ↑
- Van der Vloet, J. (1994) Homo viator. L’antropologia della “Veritatis Splendor”, in “Communio”, 135, pp. 79-87; qui p. 79. ↑
- “Socrates stated clearly that ‘only the god is wise,’ and he acknowledged that he himself possessed only ‘a human wisdom,’ which, however, is a non‑knowledge, or rather a knowledge of not knowing, and that such wisdom has little or no value” (Reale, G. (2000), Socrate. Alla scoperta della sapienza umana, Rizzoli, Milano, p. 67). “It is the whole of the human being that interested Socrates and that, even today, remains the distinctive mark of a true and proper philosophy of the human person” (Reale, G. (1996), Filosofia antica, Jaca Book, Milano, p. 16). ↑
- Cfr. Pohlenz, M. (1986), L’uomo greco, La Nuova Italia, Firenze, pp. 714-761 (La donna. Il matrimonio e la famiglia. Gli schiavi); Jaeger, W. (2003), Paideia. La formazione dell’uomo greco, Bompiani, Milano, pp. 1104-1133 (The education of women and children; Racial selection and the education of the elite; Education and military legislation). ↑
- The term “pederasty,” from the Ancient Greek παῖς (país), “boy” or “youth,” and ἐραστής (erastés), “lover,” refers to a relationship – often also of an erotic or sexual nature – established between an adult and an adolescent, occurring outside the family sphere. Its meaning is distinct from that of pedophilia (that is, sexual desire directed toward a prepubescent child). In antiquity, pederasty was understood as an institutionalized form of pedagogy, intended to impart strong ethical and cultural values necessary for the future citizen, as well as an erotic‑affective expression attested since the earliest periods of Ancient Greece. In that context, the term indicated the attraction or relationship between an adult male and an adolescent male, typically from the onset of puberty (12–13 years of age) until the appearance of the first beard (19–21 years). Since Ancient Greece developed a set of social conventions and even rituals to regulate this relationship, it is generally considered a historical and social phenomenon in its own right. ↑
- Aristotele, (1994), Etica Nicomachea, X, 7, 1177 b 30, Rusconi, Milano, p. 395. ↑
- Arriano, Epict. Dissert. I 13, 3; cit. in Pohlenz1986, pp. 760-761. ↑
- G. Morra, Il quarto uomo. Postmodernità o crisi della modernità?, nuova edizione riveduta e ampliata, Roma, Armando, 1996; cfr. G. Cicchese, Il quarto uomo. Postmodernità o crisi della modernità? In dialogo con Morra, «Nuova Umanità», XX, 1998, 115, pp. 193-214. ↑
- The piece, sometimes titled simply Senso, is the result of a collaboration between Vasco Rossi, Saverio Grandi (lyrics and music), and Gaetano Curreri (music): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32WjrxvkAzY (10.05.2026). ↑
- Heschel, A.-J (1989), Chi è l’uomo?, Rusconi, Milano, 1989, p. 58. ↑
- Cfr. Simonotti, E. (2022), Al di sopra di ogni sospetto. Trasparenza e opacità della persona, in “Annali del Centro studi filosofici di Gallarate”, II, 2022 1/2, pp. 345-353. ↑
- Born in Verona on 17 February 1885 and deceased in Munich on 1 October 1968, he is one of the most significant Catholic philosophers and theologians, pedagogues, and interpreters of literature of the past century, described by his biographer as the “Father of the Church of the twentieth century” (cfr. Gerl-Falkowitz H.-B., (2018) Romano Guardini. La vita e l’opera, Morcelliana, Brescia. ↑
- Guardini, R. Accettare sé stessi, (1993), Morcelliana, Brescia, pp. 7-33. The book also includes the essay Conosce l’uomo solo chi ha conoscenza di Dio, pp. 35-72 (cfr. new translation: 2022, Morcelliana, Brescia). ↑
- Cfr. R. Kipling, Romanzi, Milano, Mondadori, 1993 (Kim, pp. 555-896). ↑
- Cfr. Guardini, R. (2012), La Divina Commedia di Dante. I principali concetti filosofici e religiosi, Morcelliana, Brescia; Guardini, R. (1986), Studi su Dante, Morcelliana, Brescia; Cicchese, G. (2021), La Comedia come viaggio e visione nell’interpretazione di Romano Guardini, “LIRPA Journal”, 2, pp. 121-165, in the Italian and English versions. Available at https://www.lirpa-internationaljournal.it/2021/06/27/ (15.05.2026). ↑
- Cfr. Conosce l’uomo solo chi ha conoscenza di Dio, in Guardini 1993, pp. 35-72. ↑
