For this reason, give over hoping that you can skim, by means of epitomes, the wisdom of distinguished men. Look into their wisdom as a whole; study it as a whole. They are working out a plan and weaving together, line upon line, a masterpiece, from which nothing can be taken away without injury to the whole.
Examine the separate parts, if you like, provided you examine them as parts of the man himself. She is not a beautiful woman whose ankle or arm is praised, but she whose general appearance makes you forget to admire her single attributes.
If you insist, however, I shall not be niggardly with you, but lavish; for there is a huge multitude of these passages; they are scattered about in profusion—they do not need to be gathered together, but merely to be picked up.
They do not drip forth occasionally; they flow continuously. They are unbroken and are closely connected. Doubtless they would be of much benefit to those who are still novices and worshipping outside the shrine; for single maxims sink in more easily when they are marked off and bounded like a line of verse.
Examine the separate parts, if you like, provided you examine them as parts of the man himself. She is not a beautiful woman whose ankle or arm is praised, but she whose general appearance makes you forget to admire her single attributes.
If you insist, however, I shall not be niggardly with you, but lavish; for there is a huge multitude of these passages; they are scattered about in profusion—they do not need to be gathered together, but merely to be picked up.
They do not drip forth occasionally; they flow continuously. They are unbroken and are closely connected. Doubtless they would be of much benefit to those who are still novices and worshipping outside the shrine; for single maxims sink in more easily when they are marked off and bounded like a line of verse.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 33
I have long been a supporter of Classical education, where the power to rule oneself and the formation of a conscience are the priorities. I also see how the model of the “Great Books” can assist in this task, as there are few things more powerful than directly working through how other people have thought so that one might learn to think for oneself.
And then I am saddened to observe how we abuse these ideals. We may still speak of the liberal arts, but the term is now a hollow shell, reduced from being the skills suitable for the man who is free to a bland textbook conformity with whatever ideological platitudes happen to be in fashion at the moment. I know it will offend many if I say it, but it is make-believe learning.
A surefire sign of this charade is in the way we merely browse material that should be examined thoroughly and carefully. I am not exaggerating when I say that many celebrated courses in the humanities have syllabi that claim to cover Homer in one week, and the Bible in the next, as if any student can actually do the readings, or acquires any wisdom from an hour of vague and contrived discussion.
As one frustrated professor once put it: “We pretend to teach, and they pretend to learn.”
We walk away from such travesties with just a handful of slick quotations, useful for tossing about at cocktail parties, and little more. We live under the illusion that we are now educated, and ready to face life, because we can cite a few lines and have shallow opinions about books we have never read. When the goal is simply to put on a show, no one walks away with integrity.
Again, while I do not wish to offer any insult, we only brush aside such facts when we are a part of the problem. It pains me when a university dean or president sounds like he is selling me a used car.
Now is it any wonder why Seneca is advising Lucilius to avoid relying on blurbs, tidbits, or buzzwords? If it is important enough, dig deeply to uncover the treasure. Take a long and slow draught, instead of sipping at dozens of tiny samples.
You can never really fall in love with anyone or anything you don’t know to the core. This is the basis of any good marriage, and it is the basis of any sound learning.
And please don’t tell me there is too much out there to grasp, since even a cursory glance reveals why some matters deserve far closer attention than others; a capacity for compassion is due more attention than the ability to design a snazzy website.
There is no shame in remembering a certain passage, or using it as a daily reminder to stay on track, but that can never be done without a profound sense of its place within a greater glory. If I am only scratching the surface of a subject, it will, in turn, have no lasting effect on me.
Yes, I do still collect interesting quotations, though I am acutely aware that there is no end to them, for they are as numerous as the grains of sand. They acquire meaning and purpose when revered as parts of a whole. When starting out on the road of awareness, they do indeed help to point the way, and then they must be subsumed into the totality of wisdom.
I think of that wonderful Buddhist story, where many blind men try to describe an elephant by touching only one piece of the mighty beast. I’m tired of picking away at the morsels, and I am now ready for a proper feast.
I have long been a supporter of Classical education, where the power to rule oneself and the formation of a conscience are the priorities. I also see how the model of the “Great Books” can assist in this task, as there are few things more powerful than directly working through how other people have thought so that one might learn to think for oneself.
And then I am saddened to observe how we abuse these ideals. We may still speak of the liberal arts, but the term is now a hollow shell, reduced from being the skills suitable for the man who is free to a bland textbook conformity with whatever ideological platitudes happen to be in fashion at the moment. I know it will offend many if I say it, but it is make-believe learning.
A surefire sign of this charade is in the way we merely browse material that should be examined thoroughly and carefully. I am not exaggerating when I say that many celebrated courses in the humanities have syllabi that claim to cover Homer in one week, and the Bible in the next, as if any student can actually do the readings, or acquires any wisdom from an hour of vague and contrived discussion.
As one frustrated professor once put it: “We pretend to teach, and they pretend to learn.”
We walk away from such travesties with just a handful of slick quotations, useful for tossing about at cocktail parties, and little more. We live under the illusion that we are now educated, and ready to face life, because we can cite a few lines and have shallow opinions about books we have never read. When the goal is simply to put on a show, no one walks away with integrity.
Again, while I do not wish to offer any insult, we only brush aside such facts when we are a part of the problem. It pains me when a university dean or president sounds like he is selling me a used car.
Now is it any wonder why Seneca is advising Lucilius to avoid relying on blurbs, tidbits, or buzzwords? If it is important enough, dig deeply to uncover the treasure. Take a long and slow draught, instead of sipping at dozens of tiny samples.
You can never really fall in love with anyone or anything you don’t know to the core. This is the basis of any good marriage, and it is the basis of any sound learning.
And please don’t tell me there is too much out there to grasp, since even a cursory glance reveals why some matters deserve far closer attention than others; a capacity for compassion is due more attention than the ability to design a snazzy website.
There is no shame in remembering a certain passage, or using it as a daily reminder to stay on track, but that can never be done without a profound sense of its place within a greater glory. If I am only scratching the surface of a subject, it will, in turn, have no lasting effect on me.
Yes, I do still collect interesting quotations, though I am acutely aware that there is no end to them, for they are as numerous as the grains of sand. They acquire meaning and purpose when revered as parts of a whole. When starting out on the road of awareness, they do indeed help to point the way, and then they must be subsumed into the totality of wisdom.
I think of that wonderful Buddhist story, where many blind men try to describe an elephant by touching only one piece of the mighty beast. I’m tired of picking away at the morsels, and I am now ready for a proper feast.
—Reflection written in 12/2012
IMAGE: Ohara Donshu, Blind Men Appraising an Elephant (c. 1850)
No comments:
Post a Comment