A favorite passage from the First Book of Kings, written some 2,600 years ago, has set me thinking. It depicts the prophet Elijah in a moment of depression. He sits in the desert beneath a broom tree and moans about being no good.

He feels himself to be largely a failure in carrying God’s word to those in power. Despite his efforts to change them, these rulers have continued in their despotic ways. Confronted with failure, the prophet would prefer to die rather than to continue life on these terms.

Elijah’s low moment is not difficult to identify with, even by present-day non-prophets. Deep discouragement with human life can sometimes tie us 21st century strugglers to Elijah and his Biblical contemporaries who tasted depression.

The prophet voices one particular gripe that strikes me as especially  poignant. He complains about being “no better than my fathers.” For him, falling short of his forebears serves as reason enough to ask God for death.

In my later life I have sometimes found myself making a similar comparison. In the evaluations I make of my own life my father looms large. I think back to what he accomplished in a life that was considerably shorter than mine.

In the spirit of Elijah I extend this meditation to an earlier generation by thinking of my grandfathers. One of them, for whom I am named, lived an even shorter life than my father but also accomplished much. And my other grandfather, Jeremiah, the longest-lived of the three, knew success as well.

In my saner moments, however, I reject Elijah’s assumption that one should be somehow better than one’s  forbears. What kind of standard of comparison is that in the first place? Who ever pitted me in competition against my father?

This comparison reminds me of a medical student I once knew well. One day he told me that he had graduated from Notre Dame summa cum laude, outdoing his father who had graduated from the same college, but only magna cum laude.
This revelation left me appalled because the son admitted setting out to surpass his father’s record. I can imagine the father feeling proud of his son’s academic achievements but what did the comparison say of their relationship? It sounded like the American ideal of upward mobility run wild.

If you are genuinely interesed in the lives of your family members, the comparison of their lives and yours can prove instructive. And it can be inspiring to learn how they coped with very different circumstances from your own. But, again, to play the mind game of rating yourself over against them is a surefire way to devalue your own life.

In any comparison with my father, John, I would rate as a fine example of downward mobility. His lifelong career as a newspaperman and television news pioneer makes my multiple-career professional life look paltry. He reported and commented on some of the great events of his lifetime, whereas my writings tend toward exploration of my own mentality.

And about my two grandfathers: Richard, who immigrated from Ireland as a 12-year-old in 1871, at his death in 1909 owned a leather factory in Peabody. And Jeremiah, who lived into his late 80s, owned and managed a grocery store in Holyoke. By most American standards, that equals success.

They were both entrepreneurs who dared to take on challenges in the real world and they prevailed.

But again, rivalry misses the point. I am not now nor ever have been in competition with these fine men. Instead, though separated by the generations, we are partners.

The gifts of character that they passed on to me have found expression in my life. They would have been happy to see the ways in which I have given expression to their legacies.

Rather than feeling myself in competition with them, in my better moments I feel inspired by them. They make me want to leave a similar legacy to those who come after me. My descendants will have the opportunity to find at least some degree of inspiration from my life.

At least, this is my hope. Instead of giving way to the temptation of comparing myself to others, no matter how close to me, I want to judge myself on my own merits. On the Last Day, I expect to be judged by how I lived my own life, not by how I did compared to others.

So Elijah, a man of God whose life story rings down through the ages, got it wrong this time. He did not have to be better than his fathers. It was enough to be himself and follow God’s lead.

I, too, do not have to outdo my father and grandfathers. It’s good enough to be myself. Much as I esteem what these family members accomplished in their lifetimes, these accomplishments need never diminish me. Rather, they can continue to inspire appreciation.