Boethius, The Consolation 2.27

. . . “Listen to the witty manner in which one played once upon the shallowness of this pride. A certain man once bitterly attacked another who had taken to himself falsely the name of philosopher, not for the purpose of true virtue, but for pride of fame. He added to his attack that he would know soon whether he was a philosopher, when he saw whether the other bore with meekness and patience the insults he heaped upon him.

“The other showed patience for a while and took the insults as though he scoffed at them, until he said, ‘Do you now see that I am a philosopher?’

“‘I should have, had you kept silence,’ said the other stingingly.

“But we are speaking of great men, and I ask, what do they gain from fame, though they seek glory by virtue? What have they after the body is dissolved at death? For if men die utterly, as our reason forbids us to believe, there is no glory left to them at all, since they whose it is said to be, do not exist. If, on the other hand, the mind is still conscious and working when it is freed from its earthly prison, it seeks heaven in its freedom and surely spurns all earthly traffic. It enjoys heaven and rejoices in its release from the of this world.”

—from Book 2, Prose 7

There we have it all, the difference between the man of character, and the man of appearances. One lives well, while the other wants to be considered well.

Philosophers are an odd bunch, but there are actually two very different sorts to be found. This is true, in my experience, of all scholars, academics, or professionals in the world of education. You will find some who love truth, and you will find others who love glory. I suppose it is actually true of all people, period.

There are, in other words, those who serve, and those who wish to be served.

When I was an undergraduate, I was immediately drawn to teachers who wanted to help me to understand, and I tried to avoid teachers who wanted to help themselves to be revered.

I made a big mistake once, however, by falling for a clever and charming fellow, who told me that there were certain games I needed to play if I ever wanted success. He wrote fancy books, complete with artfully posed pictures of himself on the cover, and quickly rose to being the Chairman of the Department. When I was a graduate student, he told me that he would “groom” me. I just needed to be humble and obedient.

One day, I was ecstatic to have one of my papers accepted for a snazzy conference. I asked him if he could attend my presentation, hoping he would be proud of what I had done. He didn’t show up. As it turns out, he spent the afternoon at the hotel bar across the street, socializing and drinking with friends from his own special circle. I was crushed. Even some of my own students made the lengthy trip, but he was nowhere to be found.

A month later, he told me has was leaving for a better job, but that I was welcome to finish my dissertation by the end of the academic year, and he’d see if he could fit me into his busy schedule. Otherwise, I’d have to start all over again. I did have to start all over again.

He went from one achievement to another, and I was there sitting in the mud. I felt angry, I felt hopeless, and I felt betrayed.

It took me many years to understand that he was going to be who he was, but it was up to me who I was going to be. Using the George Costanza “opposite” rule, I committed myself to teaching over research, to students over publishing, to service over promotion. Did it get me anywhere? Define your terms. It cost me a career, but it saved my soul.

I finally grew out of my resentment, but it wasn’t easy. I began to see how some treat wisdom as a means, while others treat it as an end. It should not bother me that I failed by that man’s standards, and I should only be concerned with whether I succeeded by Nature’s standards.

Decades in the world of education, working in the trenches and not in the boardroom, have taught me that character will always be better than posturing. Every time. I don’t pose well for the camera, but I will do anything to help my neighbor out of the gutter.

Boethius offers a very telling story. The man who wishes to be thought of as a philosopher is hardly a philosopher at all. He betrays himself when he is questioned or berated. You will see a good man keep his silence, because he doesn’t care about his reputation, even as you will see a wicked man fight for his fake honor.

Have I failed simply because no one even knows who I am?

What does all of this honor mean? This has long been one of my favorite passages in the Consolation. If there is no life after death, it matters nothing. If there is life after death, it still matters nothing. Either death is the end of everything, or it is the beginning of something completely different.

Vanity of vanities. . . 

Written in 9/2015