Musonius Rufus, Lectures 6.2

How, indeed, could a person immediately become temperate if he only knew that one must not be overcome by pleasures, but was quite unpracticed in withstanding pleasures?

How could one become just when he had learned that one must love fairness but had never exercised himself in avoidance of selfishness and greed?

How could we acquire courage if we had merely learned that the things that seem dreadful to the average person are not to be feared, but had no experience in showing courage in the face of such things?

How could we become prudent if we had come to recognize what things are truly good and what evil, but had never had practice in despising things that only seem good?

I become a little wary when I hear people using one of the popular phrases of the moment, that the key to fixing a problem is about “raising awareness”. Yes, we can hardly do anything if we don’t first understand the right and the wrong of it, but being aware alone won’t cut it. It begins with reflection, and it is then only completed in action.

How easily I might be drawn to pondering and pontificating about the big things, precisely because it requires so little effort to do so.  How much more I should commit to practicing the little things, precisely because the effort required is what produces the reward of character. What is merely hypothetical becomes actual once I break a sweat.

Musonius here shares a principle in common with Aristotle, that we become virtuous by doing the good, not by just thinking about the good. As parents like to tell their children, “Wishing won’t make it so!” An act is the exercise of an intention, and the repetition of acts leads to the building of habits. Right habits improve moral strength, and are the true sign of the virtuous man.

My own greatest failings have come when there is something decent in my head, or in my heart, or even on my lips, but I don’t do anything about it with my hands. I have been in possession of things I have not used, and I have then foolishly wondered why a noble ideal or sentiment wasn’t making me any better or happier.

Nor has it helped me when I am impressed by others who do much the same, who tell me much, while not showing me much at all. I have wondered why people are always letting me down, but of course they aren’t doing that all; they are exactly what they appear to be, smoke without fire, and I am only deceiving myself.

Just as the law will only be binding when it is enforced, so a sense of right and wrong will only help me when I bother to live it out.

Temperance? Give me the man who fights fiercely against his own worst desires, not the man who only preaches fine words about moderation from his pulpit.

Justice? I will listen to the politician lecture me on the need for a fair society, but I will only start paying attention when I see him sharing his own winnings.

Courage? How easy it is for the armchair hero to tell others to be strong, when all his entitlements mean that he has never faced hardship, and so he has never had anything to fear.

Prudence? The number of books a scholar may have read, or referenced, or written are hardly as important as his ability to distinguish between decency and chicanery.

Written in 7/1999