We human beings are fettered and weakened by many vices; we have wallowed in them for a long time, and it is hard for us to be cleansed. We are not merely defiled; we are dyed by them.
But, to refrain from passing from one figure to another, I will raise this question, which I often consider in my own heart: why is it that folly holds us with such an insistent grasp?
It is, primarily, because we do not combat it strongly enough, because we do not struggle towards salvation with all our might; secondly, because we do not put sufficient trust in the discoveries of the wise, and do not drink in their words with open hearts; we approach this great problem in too trifling a spirit.
But how can a man learn, in the struggle against his vices, an amount that is enough, if the time which he gives to learning is only the amount left over from his vices? None of us goes deep below the surface. We skim the top only, and we regard the smattering of time spent in the search for wisdom as enough and to spare for a busy man.
What hinders us most of all is that we are too readily satisfied with ourselves; if we meet with someone who calls us good men, or sensible men, or holy men, we see ourselves in his description. Not content with praise in moderation, we accept everything that shameless flattery heaps upon us, as if it were our due.
We agree with those who declare us to be the best and wisest of men, although we know that they are given to much lying. And we are so self-complacent that we desire praise for certain actions when we are especially addicted to the very opposite.
Yonder person hears himself called "most gentle" when he is inflicting tortures, or "most generous" when he is engaged in looting, or "most temperate" when he is in the midst of drunkenness and lust. Thus, it follows that we are unwilling to be reformed, just because we believe ourselves to be the best of men.
But, to refrain from passing from one figure to another, I will raise this question, which I often consider in my own heart: why is it that folly holds us with such an insistent grasp?
It is, primarily, because we do not combat it strongly enough, because we do not struggle towards salvation with all our might; secondly, because we do not put sufficient trust in the discoveries of the wise, and do not drink in their words with open hearts; we approach this great problem in too trifling a spirit.
But how can a man learn, in the struggle against his vices, an amount that is enough, if the time which he gives to learning is only the amount left over from his vices? None of us goes deep below the surface. We skim the top only, and we regard the smattering of time spent in the search for wisdom as enough and to spare for a busy man.
What hinders us most of all is that we are too readily satisfied with ourselves; if we meet with someone who calls us good men, or sensible men, or holy men, we see ourselves in his description. Not content with praise in moderation, we accept everything that shameless flattery heaps upon us, as if it were our due.
We agree with those who declare us to be the best and wisest of men, although we know that they are given to much lying. And we are so self-complacent that we desire praise for certain actions when we are especially addicted to the very opposite.
Yonder person hears himself called "most gentle" when he is inflicting tortures, or "most generous" when he is engaged in looting, or "most temperate" when he is in the midst of drunkenness and lust. Thus, it follows that we are unwilling to be reformed, just because we believe ourselves to be the best of men.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 59
If a life of solid character, practicing the most basic integrity and decency, is so fundamental to our nature, then why do we find it so hard to stay the course? It might appear as if the whole apparatus is horribly broken.
Or could it be that I am not rightly using the tools I have been given, because I haven’t taken the time to become familiar with their workings? Observe the child who is so impatient to play with a new toy, and yet he promptly cries out that it is defective: he ripped open the box without looking at the directions.
As a creature of reason and choice, I will need to master my own power of judgement in order to discover my purpose, for that knowledge has not been handed to me on a silver platter. Though all the pieces are ready at hand, I will have to put in a conscious effort, and that can get tricky when I am distracted by immediate impressions.
People will sadly give up on a task, believing it to be impossible, when only a bit of practice or the slightest change of approach is required. How often I have failed to follow through, and how often I have neglected to heed the example of those who have struggled before me!
It demands something of me to become good, and absolutely nothing of me to become bad. Is it any wonder that I satisfy myself with a cursory glance, and yet I worry why I am still so miserable?
When I lack a confidence in my own merits, I am inclined to seek the approval of others, and when I depend upon praise, I make myself vulnerable to flattery. If she says that I am worthy, I am quick to agree. If he insists that I have already tried hard enough, I will pat myself on the back. I replace genuine commitment with instant gratification, and I have sold myself out to easy appearances.
I obviously won’t make any progress when the pursuit of virtue is treated as an option instead of as a necessity.
If a life of solid character, practicing the most basic integrity and decency, is so fundamental to our nature, then why do we find it so hard to stay the course? It might appear as if the whole apparatus is horribly broken.
Or could it be that I am not rightly using the tools I have been given, because I haven’t taken the time to become familiar with their workings? Observe the child who is so impatient to play with a new toy, and yet he promptly cries out that it is defective: he ripped open the box without looking at the directions.
As a creature of reason and choice, I will need to master my own power of judgement in order to discover my purpose, for that knowledge has not been handed to me on a silver platter. Though all the pieces are ready at hand, I will have to put in a conscious effort, and that can get tricky when I am distracted by immediate impressions.
People will sadly give up on a task, believing it to be impossible, when only a bit of practice or the slightest change of approach is required. How often I have failed to follow through, and how often I have neglected to heed the example of those who have struggled before me!
It demands something of me to become good, and absolutely nothing of me to become bad. Is it any wonder that I satisfy myself with a cursory glance, and yet I worry why I am still so miserable?
When I lack a confidence in my own merits, I am inclined to seek the approval of others, and when I depend upon praise, I make myself vulnerable to flattery. If she says that I am worthy, I am quick to agree. If he insists that I have already tried hard enough, I will pat myself on the back. I replace genuine commitment with instant gratification, and I have sold myself out to easy appearances.
I obviously won’t make any progress when the pursuit of virtue is treated as an option instead of as a necessity.
—Reflection written in 6/2013
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