I never know how to think about New Year’s resolutions or whether to make them. On one hand, I am drawn to the idea of new beginnings. I love the intentionality and thoughtfulness that are required to make a resolution. They force me to reflect on what I long for, what the good life might consist of and how to get there, which is a good exercise for all of us at any time.
On the other hand, I am lousy at discipline. So resolutions, to me, can feel ungracious, a yearly visit from a disgruntled drill sergeant, an occasion for needless guilt. This ambivalence springs from a tension I feel between the responsibility to actively seek self-improvement and the reality that, in the end, everything most lovely in life — from love to salvation to goodness to joy — comes as a gift. It is all a mercy. Even our ability to strive toward change is a gift, a grace and not exactly in our control, which is clear to anyone who has ever planned a productive day only to be sidelined by a head cold, a migraine or a broken transmission.
The point of resolutions shouldn’t be to add another task to our busy lives or another brick on the crushing and cruel burden to “do better.” The point is that renewal is always possible, and with a large dollop of grace we can freely try new things; we can continue to grow and change. Last year I asked writers, scholars and spiritual leaders to suggest resolutions that weren’t focused on sculpting a beach body or maximizing one’s earning capacity but were instead practical ways to nourish one’s soul or the “soul” of our society. I heard back from many readers who found delight in trying one or two (or more) of these suggestions, so we’re back again for the second annual “reSOULutions,” this time for 2023.
Begin the day reading about faith.
I’m the early bird of my household. Most days, I’m up before first light. So why do I spend that first precious hour doomscrolling in bed? Even after I get up, brush my teeth and pray, I too often return to things that make me mad on my screen. During Ramadan, I do things differently. I get out of bed immediately after waking, say my prayers, set my intention for the day and then open a physical book about faith (most often about Islam, but not always). I find it so elevating. One purpose of time-bound religious rituals like Ramadan and Lent is to help us reflect upon, and improve, our regular routines. I’m going to use New Year’s to try to bring the practice of beginning the day with a physical book about faith into my everyday life.
— Eboo Patel, founder and president of Interfaith America
Narrow your news focus.
As a journalist, I encounter many subjects on which I’m rarely, if ever, willing to comment. It’s not that I think they’re unimportant. On the contrary, I think they’re too important for me to speak from ignorance, and I know I don’t have the background knowledge to give these topics their due.
As a news consumer, consider a similar practice: Resolve to know just a few stories and to know them well. Your time and attention are limited. You can’t do justice to every issue of the day, and maintaining a broad, shallow pattern of news consumption makes you vulnerable to manipulation and confusion. So this year, pick at most half a dozen big stories to follow carefully and in depth. Read books, not just the latest headlines. Learn key names and legislation. Find trustworthy journalists to keep you up-to-date. Then remember your finitude and ignore everything else.
— Bonnie Kristian, journalist and author of “Untrustworthy” and “A Flexible Faith”
Create silence.
The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard has some great wisdom for our age: “Create silence! The Word of God cannot be heard in the noisy world of today.” We need to create silence by spending less time with our screens and being more mindful of the people around us. We need to learn to be still and bask in the gift of the presence of God and our neighbors.
If we don’t create silence, then we may find ourselves engaging in noisy monologues. This is certainly a path to a divisive and violent cacophony. God created us as reflections of his Word to be part of a harmonious symphony.
— Roland Millare, theologian at the St. John Paul II Foundation and author of “A Living Sacrifice”
Write one letter every week.
In a world where a majority of communication is done through a device, the act of writing and receiving a letter has become even more precious. I will write one letter a week to someone I love or cherish, and I will happily imagine the recipients’ delight to find a handwritten note in the midst of their daily bills and mailers.
— Karina Yan Glaser, children’s book author and illustrator