“And so you, my young friend, do
not fear that you will disobey your father, if when your father bids you do
something which is not right, you refrain from doing it, or when he forbids you
to do something which is right you do not refrain from doing it.
“Do not let your father be an excuse
to you for wrongdoing whether he bids you do something which is not right or
forbids you to do what is right. For there is no necessity for you to comply
with evil injunctions, and you yourself seem not unaware of this.
“You would certainly not submit
to your father in musical matters if, with no knowledge of music, he should
order you to play the lyre incorrectly, or if he knew nothing of grammar and
you did, he should order you to write and read, not as you had learned but
otherwise; and if, finally, with no knowledge of how to steer a ship, he should
order you who did understand to handle the helm in the wrong way, you would not
heed him. Well, then, enough of that.”
“I was just following orders!”
The phrase has sadly become quite hackneyed, and it
has even taken on something of a comic quality, not unlike Bart Simpson’s “I
didn’t do it!” Nevertheless, it should serve me as a powerful reminder that
passing the buck is only a way to cover for my own ignorance and cowardice.
Because I am ruled by my own judgments, and by no
one else’s, I am also responsible for my own actions. This includes choosing whose
guidance I will trust, and whose directions I will follow. If I can be reasonably
expected to comprehend for myself, I can also be reasonably expected to give my
assent or dissent.
“I didn’t know any better!” is not in itself an excuse;
the more important question is “Should I
have known any better?” And yet to think how many times I have hidden behind
what others told me, without doing any thinking for myself, or been quick to
point the finger, when the weakness lay squarely within myself.
It is not necessary for me to despair over this,
but it is necessary for me to improve from this. Mistakes will indeed be made, though
they are only compounded when they are ignored.
I would trust the authority of a doctor to heal me,
not that of a lawyer. I would listen to a mechanic when it comes to fixing my
car, not some loud guy at the end of the bar. So why, then, should I take
advice about being virtuous from a wicked man? Why am I tempted to imitate
those who lie, cheat, and steal?
The adulterer can teach me nothing about loyalty,
precisely because he lacks love. The profiteer can teach me nothing about business,
precisely because he has no sense of justice. The social climber can teach me
nothing about character, precisely because he cares only for himself.
And I, turn, do not have to be a rocket scientist
to figure out who is who. Becoming a stand-up guy is only uncomfortable when I’ve
gotten lazy from too much sitting down.
Written in 3/2000
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