“What? Do these great matters depend on one that is so small?”
What are these you call “such great matters”? Wars and factions, deaths of many men and destructions of cities. What is there great in this, pray?
“Is there nothing great?”
Why, what is there great in the death of many oxen and many sheep, and the burning and destruction of many nests of swallows and storks?
“Are these like those other horrors?”
Most like: bodies of men perished, so did bodies of oxen and sheep. Huts of men were burnt: so were storks' nests. What is great or awful here? Or if it be so, show me how a man's home differs from a stork's nest, as a dwelling.
“Is a stork, then, like a man?”
What do you say? In respect of his body, very like; save only that men's homes are built of beams and rafters and bricks, and storks’ nests of sticks and clay.
What are these you call “such great matters”? Wars and factions, deaths of many men and destructions of cities. What is there great in this, pray?
“Is there nothing great?”
Why, what is there great in the death of many oxen and many sheep, and the burning and destruction of many nests of swallows and storks?
“Are these like those other horrors?”
Most like: bodies of men perished, so did bodies of oxen and sheep. Huts of men were burnt: so were storks' nests. What is great or awful here? Or if it be so, show me how a man's home differs from a stork's nest, as a dwelling.
“Is a stork, then, like a man?”
What do you say? In respect of his body, very like; save only that men's homes are built of beams and rafters and bricks, and storks’ nests of sticks and clay.
—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.28
It will do me no good to strive for greatness, if I don’t first understand what it means to be great.
I say that this is big and that is small, this is more important and that is less important, and through it all I am failing to consider if my assumptions are in line with my nature, if I can explain why I have my priorities in order. Am I thinking it through, or am I latching onto the first impression they handed to me?
The other day I spoke with an aspiring Stoic, who insisted that he needed to worry about acquiring food and shelter before he tried to be virtuous. It had not occurred to him that the health of his body, or even his continued survival, could be subservient to the state of his character.
“Are you saying that I should starve to death before I violate my conscience?”
“I’m not saying it at all; you would need to say it to yourself.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen a jaw drop quite that far.
We are told how a successful life requires the acquisition of wealth, the building of status, and the comforts of the flesh. I only have to look at the pictures in the college brochures to get the idea: the alumnus of this fine institution is handsomely dressed, surrounded by an adoring wife and two grinning children, and he confidently shakes hands with other powerful men in a well-appointed office.
His spacious home has a very green lawn, and he shares many photos of his brilliant vacations. He then passes on this glory to his offspring, who are blissfully unaware of the trap.
He can go into finance, and determine the fate of thousands, or even into politics, and determine the fate of millions. He is admired. He is relevant. He gets his way. He is essential to society because he manages the things that matter the most. You want to be like him!
It takes an Epictetus to knock some sense into us. This fellow over here builds a city, and that fellow over there tears it down. Countries congratulate themselves on achieving a lasting peace, and yet so very soon they are back at war. Stick to our side without question, and a victory over the dastardly foe is assured, though we’re very sorry if we make you die for it—we’ll send your family a nice letter in the mail.
Are these really the things that matter the most? We’re just talking about the ever-changing state of things here, not about the dignity of people. Prudence doesn’t insist upon itself. Fortitude can't be presented in soundbites. Temperance is never about bragging rights. Justice has no cash value.
Perhaps what we call “great” doesn’t end up being so special. A single instance of love, by a “nobody” dismissed as irrelevant, outshines any extravagant posturing. In constantly obsessing about the breadth of the circumstances, we neglect the depth of the virtues.
It will do me no good to strive for greatness, if I don’t first understand what it means to be great.
I say that this is big and that is small, this is more important and that is less important, and through it all I am failing to consider if my assumptions are in line with my nature, if I can explain why I have my priorities in order. Am I thinking it through, or am I latching onto the first impression they handed to me?
The other day I spoke with an aspiring Stoic, who insisted that he needed to worry about acquiring food and shelter before he tried to be virtuous. It had not occurred to him that the health of his body, or even his continued survival, could be subservient to the state of his character.
“Are you saying that I should starve to death before I violate my conscience?”
“I’m not saying it at all; you would need to say it to yourself.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen a jaw drop quite that far.
We are told how a successful life requires the acquisition of wealth, the building of status, and the comforts of the flesh. I only have to look at the pictures in the college brochures to get the idea: the alumnus of this fine institution is handsomely dressed, surrounded by an adoring wife and two grinning children, and he confidently shakes hands with other powerful men in a well-appointed office.
His spacious home has a very green lawn, and he shares many photos of his brilliant vacations. He then passes on this glory to his offspring, who are blissfully unaware of the trap.
He can go into finance, and determine the fate of thousands, or even into politics, and determine the fate of millions. He is admired. He is relevant. He gets his way. He is essential to society because he manages the things that matter the most. You want to be like him!
It takes an Epictetus to knock some sense into us. This fellow over here builds a city, and that fellow over there tears it down. Countries congratulate themselves on achieving a lasting peace, and yet so very soon they are back at war. Stick to our side without question, and a victory over the dastardly foe is assured, though we’re very sorry if we make you die for it—we’ll send your family a nice letter in the mail.
Are these really the things that matter the most? We’re just talking about the ever-changing state of things here, not about the dignity of people. Prudence doesn’t insist upon itself. Fortitude can't be presented in soundbites. Temperance is never about bragging rights. Justice has no cash value.
Perhaps what we call “great” doesn’t end up being so special. A single instance of love, by a “nobody” dismissed as irrelevant, outshines any extravagant posturing. In constantly obsessing about the breadth of the circumstances, we neglect the depth of the virtues.
Even the stork builds himself a fine house. I might only add that the stork at least keeps his home as simple as it needs to be, and he doesn’t seem to care so much about the pedigree or the fineries. If he doesn’t serve the correct cocktails, the other storks won’t laugh at him behind his back.
—Reflection written in 4/2001
No comments:
Post a Comment