. . . What, then, is the upshot of all
this? It is that I prefer to have to regulate joys than to stifle sorrows. The
great Socrates would say the same thing to you.
"Make me," he would say, "the
conqueror of all nations. Let the voluptuous car of Bacchus bear me in triumph
to Thebes from the rising of the sun. Let the kings of the Persians receive
laws from me. Yet I shall still feel myself to be a man even at the very moment
when all around salute me as a god.
“Straightway, connect this lofty height
with a headlong fall into misfortune. Let me be placed upon a foreign chariot
that I may grace the triumph of a proud and savage conqueror. I will follow
another's car with no more humility than I showed when I stood in my own.”
What then? In spite of all this, I would
rather be a conqueror than a captive. I despise the whole dominion of Fortune,
but still, if I were given my choice, I would choose its better parts. . . .
—Seneca
the Younger, On the happy life,
Chapter 25 (tr Stewart)
I would
indeed gladly choose pleasure over pain, comfort over suffering, but I can only
free myself from slavery to preferences when I begin to see that all of my
circumstances should be in the service of right action. Give me what is easier,
but I should be just as willing, and just as proud, to face what is harder.
I have
long been in awe and wonder at the Gospel scene of the Agony in the Garden. I
imagine people of many faiths and cultures can surely appreciate both the pain
and difficulty of such a decision, as well as the love and humility of the
choice that was made. From Matthew 26:36-39:
Then
Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his
disciples, “Sit here, while I go yonder and pray.” And taking with him Peter
and the two sons of Zebedee, he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he
said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me.” And going a little
farther he fell on his face and prayed, “My Father, if it be possible, let this
cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt.”
My own struggles
have never been about the redemption of humanity, but they have been hard
enough to bear. I made poor choices about attachments, and paid many years of
consequences for them. They were life-defining mistakes. I often wish none of it
had ever happened, but I then also realize that the pain was what led to the
only things that are now good within me. Give me contentment over loss, but not
at the expense of my soul.
As much
as I might like to be driving the chariot of a conquering king, can I still
learn to be a decent and happy man if I am paraded about as a vanquished
captive? Can I be humble and righteous both in victory and in defeat?
Kipling
always said it so well:
If you can meet with Triumph and
Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the
same. . .
Written in 6/2004
Image: Eugene Delacroix, The Triumph of Bacchus (1861)
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