I received an e-mail from a truly fine student in my Ancient Philosophy class a few years back. She was very angry, and sent it to me only after grades had been submitted, perhaps thinking I would have lowered her average because she was expressing her own point of view. She clearly did not know me very well.
"I am very offended that you would teach about Stoics at a Catholic school. Those people have no place in a Christian life. They deny the body, and they deny the emotions. Christ died on the Cross, and he suffered in His full Body and in His complete Humanity. Socrates wanted to die, and didn't care at all about his body or his humanity. Christ redeems us. Those Stoics you like so much deny who we are. You need to read Charles Taylor."
I made a futile attempt to make things right with her. I had already read Charles Taylor, of course, but that was neither here nor there. Until that young lady graduated, she would tell other students never to take my classes, because I was against Christ.
First, I have taught many things, not because I agree or disagree with them, but because I'd like students to learn to agree or disagree for themselves, using sound reasoning. I'm rather competent at teaching Hume and Nietzsche, for example, though I can't bear that sort of thinking for myself.
Second, Stoicism does not deny the human body or emotions. Rather, Stoicism says that they are good, as all things in Nature are good, but for us morally, and for our living, we must see them in a context. The lower goods must serve the higher goods. The Stoic feels, and bleeds, like any other man. Sometimes, he feels and bleeds with great suffering. I know this all too well. I can't imagine that Socrates didn't care about his life, his wife, his children, or his friends. But he knew he would need to see what was relative through what was absolute.
A false dichotomy assumes an either/or, where there should be a both/and.
The Stoics are not Manichean dualists, and they do not believe that matter is evil. The Stoic concept of indifference is very much like that of St. Ignatius of Loyola. It's all about means and ends.
Third, why do we so often feel the need to dig trenches where there can be bridges? In one sense, Stoicism and Christianity are like apples and oranges, because one is about philosophy, the other about theology. This doesn't oppose them, however, any more than apples are opposed to oranges.
It does mean that one must understand that the Stoics were working from reason alone. A Christian works from reason informed by faith. Cannot the former be perfected and completed by the latter? Can't I have my apples and my oranges?
I know my Star Trek well enough to recognize that Mr. Spock was hardly cold and emotionless. The closing scene from The Wrath of Khan tells me all I need to know about that. Like all of his people, a race who had nearly destroyed themselves through their own intemperance, he was struggling to order his passions through his reason. All of us are called to do this, whatever the external faces we may wear.
"I have been, and always shall be, your friend."
"Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most. . . human."
Can you see even Lt. Saavik shedding a tear?
The robotic stereotype of Spock, like the lifeless stereotype of Stoicism, is deeply mistaken, and deeply harmful. Of course Spock cared, and he suffered, and he sacrificed precisely because he cared. The Stoic loves, he feels, he finds joy in Nature, and he recognizes the good in each and every thing in this world. Let's not make Stoicism something that is isn't.
If we wish to follow Christ, let us also strive to live as He did. We don't need to cut off the heads of others to make ourselves feel tall.
Written in 8/2014
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHAOWLhrxhQ
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