Socrates
excused himself to Perdiccas for
not going to him, saying, “It is because I would not perish by the worst of all
ends; that is, I would not receive a favor and then be unable to return it.”
—Marcus
Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11.25 (tr
Long)
It was
either King Perdiccas, or his son Archelaus, who invited Socrates to bring his
philosophy to Macedonia. Why would Socrates refuse such an offer? Besides his
love of his home, Athens, it seems he was afraid of being in the debt of
someone so powerful.
I have
come to understand this on two levels. In a more pragmatic sense, one should
always be wary of being in another’s debt, especially someone who has so much.
To be in his debt is to depend upon him, and to depend upon him is to be more
under his rule, and less under one’s own. What, pray tell, may he ask in return
for his favors? It may well be far more than one is able to give, or willing to
give in good conscience.
In a
deeper moral sense, it hardly seems right and proper at all to receive without offering
in return. For the Stoic, our merit is in what we do, not in what is done to
us, so we do not become better by what we get, but by what we give. Accordingly,
do not accept anything that you cannot turn around and give back, that you
cannot transform into an expression of your own virtue.
The
return of a gift is not merely the paying off of some debt; it is further the
giving of kindness for kindness, love for love, where the gratitude itself
becomes yet another gift. In this way, decent folks can avoid jealousy,
resentment, or greed, because they look first to the dignity of their own
actions, and are satisfied with this first and foremost.
When my
daughter was little, and I would smoke my pipe in the backyard after dinner,
she would run around and collect dandelions and buttercups for me. It sounds
terribly sentimental, but the look of joy on her face as she handed them to me
was always a necessary reminder for me that people are made to be good. We
thrive when our own actions are just, compassionate, and merciful.
I notice
how many people nevertheless choose to measure their worth by what they are
given, and in turn they hardly even own what they think they own. The debtor
wants to get something out of the creditor, and the creditor wants to get something
out of the debtor. How different it would be if each of us chose instead to
think of giving over taking, to measure an investment by the good done for
another, to make virtue a more valuable currency than wealth or fame.
It may
sound like it comes off a Hallmark card, but the genuine exercise of charity
could continue on and on. Even if others are greedy, we could still continue to
offer of ourselves, and still be quite content with that, asking for no more.
That would be human growth.
Written in 6/2009
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