"We all want to be loved; failing that, admired…We want to evoke some sort of sentiment. The soul shudders before oblivion and seeks connection at any price."
— August Strindberg
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It’s a valid and searching question to ask oneself in this present society where the “I” stands erect as a Terracotta Warrior: Am I virtue signalling? Is the question. The very act of asking it risks becoming a kind of virtue signal itself—"Look how self-aware I am."
And yet I ask myself in earnest.
When I write about empathy, kindness, gratitude, or faith, am I doing it to reflect what I believe to be good and true? Or am I polishing a self-image, hoping others will see me as thoughtful, moral, or enlightened? It’s easy to drift into that territory without noticing—especially in an age where sharing one’s thoughts with the world has become so effortless.
There is a tension here, and it’s worth acknowledging. We are all, to some extent, social creatures, shaped by others’ perceptions. But what concerns me is when the performance of goodness eclipses the substance of it. Jesus had a word for this—hypocrisy. Not in the modern sense of failing to live up to one’s ideals, but in the ancient sense of wearing a mask, like an actor on a stage.
The Pharisees, for all their public piety, were called out not because they failed to do good, but because they did good to be seen doing it. The applause of men had become their reward. I fear the same danger in myself.
Sometimes I write about the stranger who paid for my meal, the act of leaving a legacy for my grandchildren, or the quiet grief of losing a father at an early age, or simple anecdotes about being human. Sure, I like to be acknowledged, we all do. That’s what it means to be human. I do so not to impress anyone, but because these things pierce me and the fact that I have readers who visit regularly, indicates that you share similar experiences. They remind me I am human, and that other humans are carrying burdens I will never fully understand. But even as I write, I wonder—Am I telling this story to share the weight of the world, or to carry it like a badge?
Perhaps the difference lies in the motive—and in the fruit. Virtue signalling seeks affirmation. True virtue seeks transformation.
When I look at Jesus, I see someone who never signalled virtue. He simply lived it. Quietly, often in the margins, with no need for recognition. He didn't post his miracles. He told people not to tell others. He wept, he walked, he withdrew. And he died with few to witness it.
So I return to this question not as a condemnation, but as a check-in. Am I writing from the wellspring of grace—or from a desire to be admired? Am I confessing or performing?
To be human is to live in that tension. It is like navigating a river where currents are pulling you in two directions. But I hope, with each word, I am moving a little more toward the truth and a little further away from the mask.
“Two men went up to the temple to pray. One was a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed, ‘God, I thank You that I am not like other men—swindlers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and pay tithes of all that I acquire.’
But the tax collector stood at a distance, unwilling even to lift up his eyes to heaven. Instead, he beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man, rather than the Pharisee, went home justified. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
Luke 10:10-14 (BSB).