For these reasons all men
consider the love of man and wife to be the highest form of love; and no
reasonable mother or father would expect to entertain a deeper love for his own
child than for the one joined to him in marriage.
Indeed how much the love of a
wife for her husband surpasses the love of parents for their children is
clearly illustrated by the familiar story of how Admetus, receiving from the
gods the privilege of living twice the time allotted to him if he could get
someone else to die in his place, found his parents unwilling to die for him,
although they were old, but his wedded wife Alcestis, though still very young,
readily accepted death in her husband's place.
Do all people
see the love between a husband and as the greatest of all possible human loves?
No, sadly not, I must admit, but I suspect I know what
Musonius means; it is certainly true for the wisest and most compassionate of
people, and I have yet to find any exceptions to that.
I have known many decent folks who chose not to
marry, for whatever reasons, and yet even they always treated marriage as something
profoundly sacred.
If I had not somehow stumbled across my own Hipparchia,
I could still have found peace in celibacy.
I never wish to offend, but I’ll repeat my tired old
mantra: not about custom, not about convenience, and only about commitment.
Admetus was known for his kindness and hospitality,
such that the god Apollo himself found comfort and friendship while being bound
as his servant.
Were Admetus and Apollo lovers? I really don’t
know, but Plutarch and Ovid apparently thought so.
Yet Apollo assisted Admetus in finding his bride,
Alcestis, and when Artemis was angered at Admetus, because had failed to offer
her a sacrifice, Apollo intervened.
He cleverly convinced the Fates to not only spare
Admetus’ life, but also arranged that he could live for two whole human
lifetimes, if only someone else offered a life in return.
Who might accept that fate? Surely his aged parents
would be glad to take on the task?
No, they refused, clinging to what little time they
had left, and it was Alcestis who chose to do the necessary. Alcestis died, so
that Admetus might live.
It gets me every time, an awe at what true love can
do. No, those aren’t tears; the darn allergies are acting up again.
Admetus could not bear it, knowing that simple survival
was never the measure of a worthy life. She was far better now, while he was far
worse. In the words of Euripides:
I think my wife's fate is happier than my own,
even though it may not seem so.
No
pain will ever touch her now, and she has ended life's many troubles with
glory.
But
I, who have escaped my fate and ought not to be alive, shall now live out my
life in sorrow.
Now they say that Heracles went to the Underworld,
and he fought to get Alcestis back for Admetus. I do wish I had gods and
demigods acting on my behalf, but it hasn’t worked out that way for me.
No matter. The virtues remain the same, regardless
of the presence or absence of supernatural powers. Admetus was a good man, by
his own choice. Alcestis was a good woman, by her own choice.
He was just in most of everything that he did, and
yet she took justice to a new level, to that of a sacrifice, to an act of ultimate
mercy.
Greater
love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.
In this case, a woman did far better than any man.
Written in 1/2000
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