The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Monday, July 24, 2017

On Exile 2


. . . "Tell me, is not the universe the common fatherland of all men, as Socrates held? Well, then, you must not consider it really being banished from your fatherland if you go from where you were born and reared, but only being exiled from a certain city, that is if you claim to be a reasonable person.

"For such a man does not value or despise any place as the cause of his happiness or unhappiness, but he makes the whole matter depend upon himself and considers himself a citizen of the city of God which is made up of men and gods. Euripides speaks in harmony with this thought when he says,

" 'As all the heavens are open to the eagle's flight
So all the earth is for a noble man his fatherland.' ' . . .

--Musonius Rufus, Fragment 9 (tr Lutz)

I have always struggled with the temptations of provincialism. I grew up with both a strong sense of tribal identity, Irish, Austrian, Catholic, as well as a strong sense of human solidarity. These two would often falsely appear to be in conflict over the years.

I needed only to understand that the lower does not conflict with the higher, but can exist within it, in harmony.

I am impressed by how much our progressive age stresses the universality of the human condition, demands equal rights, and seeks to break down barriers.

These are good things. But have you noticed how we continue to entrench ourselves even further in our pigeonholes, how we identify more and more with our race, our class, our creed? A few years back, I was awkwardly told that I was not going to be invited to an event, because it involved Latino pride.

"I respect if I'm not welcome. But why can't I celebrate that with you?"

"You're not Latino, so you could never understand. We need to find our own equality. You need to stay away and back off."

Replace that label with any other, and we'd still have the same problem.

I'm sorry, but we can't have equal dignity for all persons when all we do is draw attention to our differences. Find brotherhood, find solidarity. None of us are special because of the color of our skin, how much we earn, or whatever church or social club we happen to attend.

Musonius reminds us that our humanity is not defined by where we came from, or where we might happen to live. Sadly, the very same people who tell us that there should be no differences often happen to be the first to insist upon them. Diversity is a pointless concept if it does not ground itself in unity.

I was once arguing with a Massachusetts Health and Human Services bureaucrat about housing one of our clients. I insisted that the housing project she had chosen for him would be a bad idea, because it was, put bluntly, a crack den.

"Oh stop, it's a great place to live! We're all working together to make Boston a better city, and we're cleaning it up. He'll be fine!"

"Would you live there, instead of in your million dollar home in Wellesley?"

"Well, that's hardly the point."

Yes, it is the point. If we're working together, we'll live together, and we won't divide races, classes, or creeds. Universality is not universal if it admits of exceptions. Place, time, or circumstance do not alter universal humanity.

The Stoic is always truly cosmopolitan. That does not mean that he shops at the right stores, or follows the best international fashions. It means that he recognizes himself as a citizen of the world. All the narrow politics and ideology aside, there are no borders between human beings. For all of our differences in background, we are all pretty much the same.

This is why my Catholic friends all consider me to be a hippie, but I have no problem with that label. Labels don't define me, but my humanity does. All creatures are creatures of God, and all have their inherent dignity.There can be no snubbing or exclusion of our neighbors.

Exile from one place to another, or from one situation to another, or even from one class to another, should never be a problem. I will define myself by my character, not by your labels.

Place or circumstance don't define me, so there really is no exile at all.

Written in 8/2013

Image: Domenico Peterlini, Dante in Exile (c. 1860):

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