Commitment & Obligation
Commitments are like boats of various sizes carrying passengers of various numbers all floating in a sea of obligation. At least that is my experience of commitment when I am paying attention. In that sense commitment displaces obligation in a life of mindful choices.
When I make a commitment I freely choose to limit my choices. That may seem paradoxical until I attend to the tyranny of unlimited choice. A life devoid of commitment has the quality of an individual flailing about in that same sea, but naming it “freedom”. The swimmer takes in great gulps of this seawater, which only adds to his thirst for more water. Just as the salt displaces the water in his system, notions of limitlessness displace true freedom in our lives.
Obligations are ropes and strings, perhaps even thick cables – all of which serve to bind us to another. They have a transactional quality to them in which power is not shared, in which one is bound to another. Obligations are the stuff of strangers, handcuffed to each other unable to free themselves because the obligation is stronger than any other aspect of their interactions.
As usual, the origins of these words have much to say about their distinctions. Oblige is related to the English word ligature. It is from the Latin word obligare, which means to bind to, from the root ligare, to bind. Commit on the other hand comes from the Latin committere, which means to connect, to entrust. Its root is com+mittere, to send.
And obligation, then, is a tether that binds us to the past. One transaction binds us to the next. An obligation, of course, is not without importance. In fact we speak of “honoring our obligations” just as we honor our commitments. Yet, even here we often make a distinction. Once we honor an obligation, it ceases to exist. When we honor a commitment, it is sustained, perhaps even strengthened. And, when we fail to honor an obligation, often we can renegotiate, and so continue to be obliged. Finally, as a counterpoint, failing to honor a commitment ends its existence completely. We can in some cases, where sufficient compassion and forgiveness is present, make a new commitment, but we can never renegotiate a broken one.
And that may well be the most powerful distinction. The binds of obligation can be severed and retied. But the faith and trust that is at the core of commitment, once torn apart, cannot be retied so easily. New commitments, though, can be woven from the tattered fragments, and in time may prove stronger and more resilient than the original.
Returning to our initial watery simile, we might look upon an obligation as an anchor and a commitment as a sail. When we choose to weigh anchor and free ourselves from the binds of the seabed below, we can then freely choose which directions we will sail. We are more trusting of the wind to guide us, and more deeply aware of the connection we have with our companions committed to the same journey.