The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Saturday, July 15, 2017

Seneca on Liberal Arts Education 18

. . . "What are we, then? What becomes of all these things that surround us, support us, sustain us? The whole universe is then a vain or deceptive shadow.

"I cannot readily say whether I am more vexed at those who would have it that we know nothing, or with those who would not leave us even this privilege.

"Farewell."

--Seneca the Younger, Moral Letters to  Lucilius, 88 (tr Gummere)

The romantics and the dreamers, of whom I am one, will rightly bemoan the corruption of our age. But we are wrong to think that corruption is specific to our time. Seneca saw it in his time, and any free-thinking man, in any time or place, will recognize this most basic human weakness.

That weakness goes far beyond any questions of educational policy. It goes to the heart of who we think we are, not just in theory, but in practice.

Who am I? Why am I here? What am I made for? How I answer those questions will make all the difference, and how I answer those questions is not just a matter of mindless chatter with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine. Answering the questions rightly is the only thing that matters. Everything else will follow in order.

None of us can ever escape answering the questions. You and I have, and will, answer the questions in one way or another. That itself is proof of why true liberal learning, and proper philosophy, are absolutely necessary for human life. We need those tools to get it right.

By all means, tell me that my head is in the clouds, that I live in world of dreams, that none of this is at all practical for everyday life.

But you know, and I know, that we have committed to certain answers. Now are they the correct answers? And if you are sure you have it right, how do you know? The answer will depend upon critical thinking, which is precisely what the liberal arts and philosophy are all about.

Grovelling in skepticism and relativism won't get us out of the mess. 

I had a confessor many years ago, an old Jesuit of the hardest but also the kindest sort, who would often say: "you may lie to me, and I will take no offense. But don't lie to yourself. Your conscience will take an offense you can never get around."

I need only look deep within myself to see if I am living rightly. The answer isn't always pleasant, but it's the answer I need. Everything else will follow in order.

Written 1/2010

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