Letter 65: On the first cause
I shared my time yesterday with ill health; it claimed for itself all the period before noon; in the afternoon, however, it yielded to me.
And so, I first tested my spirit by reading; then, when reading was found to be possible, I dared to make more demands upon the spirit, or perhaps I should say, to make more concessions to it. I wrote a little, and indeed with more concentration than usual, for I am struggling with a difficult subject and do not wish to be downed.
In the midst of this, some friends visited me, with the purpose of employing force and of restraining me, as if I were a sick man indulging in some excess.
So, conversation was substituted for writing; and from this conversation I shall communicate to you the topic which is still the subject of debate; for we have appointed you referee. You have more of a task on your hands than you suppose, for the argument is threefold.
Our Stoic philosophers, as you know, declare that there are two things in the Universe which are the source of everything—namely, cause and matter.
Matter lies sluggish, a substance ready for any use, but sure to remain unemployed if no one sets it in motion.
Cause, however, by which we mean reason, molds matter and turns it in whatever direction it will, producing thereby various concrete results.
Accordingly, there must be, in the case of each thing, that from which it is made, and, next, an agent by which it is made. The former is its material, the latter its cause.
I shared my time yesterday with ill health; it claimed for itself all the period before noon; in the afternoon, however, it yielded to me.
And so, I first tested my spirit by reading; then, when reading was found to be possible, I dared to make more demands upon the spirit, or perhaps I should say, to make more concessions to it. I wrote a little, and indeed with more concentration than usual, for I am struggling with a difficult subject and do not wish to be downed.
In the midst of this, some friends visited me, with the purpose of employing force and of restraining me, as if I were a sick man indulging in some excess.
So, conversation was substituted for writing; and from this conversation I shall communicate to you the topic which is still the subject of debate; for we have appointed you referee. You have more of a task on your hands than you suppose, for the argument is threefold.
Our Stoic philosophers, as you know, declare that there are two things in the Universe which are the source of everything—namely, cause and matter.
Matter lies sluggish, a substance ready for any use, but sure to remain unemployed if no one sets it in motion.
Cause, however, by which we mean reason, molds matter and turns it in whatever direction it will, producing thereby various concrete results.
Accordingly, there must be, in the case of each thing, that from which it is made, and, next, an agent by which it is made. The former is its material, the latter its cause.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 65
When I am feeling sick, I might be inclined to fret and to mope, but Seneca understands how a weakness in the body is best remedied with a strength in the mind. While academic busywork has never cured me of what ails me, an honest reflection on why the world works the way it must has never steered me wrong.
This letter delves into the philosophy of causes, including a contrast between the views of Aristotle, of Plato, and of the Stoics. The technicalities can admittedly get frustrating, and yet there is no need to apologize for any attempt at figuring out the reasons that stand behind our lives. Indeed, the fellow who refuses to ask the question “Why?” is hardly living up to his human calling.
As before, Seneca further argues how, regardless of the language to our particular conclusions, the effort itself is already a relief from our many worldly troubles. The genuine philosopher rightly understands why a discovery of order and purpose is the very key to being liberated from the burden of senseless suffering. There is quite the difference between making excuses and facing the responsibilities of our proper place.
I can begin by noting how, wherever there is action, there is a distinction between that which acts and that which is acted upon. The Stoics wished to keep that simple fact in mind when they viewed the structure of the whole Universe, and so they saw the agency of Divine Reason constantly at work in animating and giving form to passive matter.
Ultimately, it is necessary to recognize how all action is reducible to a pure and simple source of change, by which all other things are measured. This, for the Stoic, is the only “Cause” that counts, for it is the true beginning. Without this moving power, matter would be inert, only presenting a possibility of being given any distinct identity.
If a man is not breathing, or walking, or talking, he is nothing more than a lump of lifeless flesh. By analogy, if the Universe is not charged with the Logos, the seminal principle of Reason, it is nothing more than a static mass of indeterminate “stuff”.
Some modern commentators would sadly like to excise such arguments from Stoicism, thereby reducing it to a purely humanistic endeavor, but that doesn’t make them any less true. Deny the Cosmic order, and you inevitably also deny the human order.
When I am feeling sick, I might be inclined to fret and to mope, but Seneca understands how a weakness in the body is best remedied with a strength in the mind. While academic busywork has never cured me of what ails me, an honest reflection on why the world works the way it must has never steered me wrong.
This letter delves into the philosophy of causes, including a contrast between the views of Aristotle, of Plato, and of the Stoics. The technicalities can admittedly get frustrating, and yet there is no need to apologize for any attempt at figuring out the reasons that stand behind our lives. Indeed, the fellow who refuses to ask the question “Why?” is hardly living up to his human calling.
As before, Seneca further argues how, regardless of the language to our particular conclusions, the effort itself is already a relief from our many worldly troubles. The genuine philosopher rightly understands why a discovery of order and purpose is the very key to being liberated from the burden of senseless suffering. There is quite the difference between making excuses and facing the responsibilities of our proper place.
I can begin by noting how, wherever there is action, there is a distinction between that which acts and that which is acted upon. The Stoics wished to keep that simple fact in mind when they viewed the structure of the whole Universe, and so they saw the agency of Divine Reason constantly at work in animating and giving form to passive matter.
Ultimately, it is necessary to recognize how all action is reducible to a pure and simple source of change, by which all other things are measured. This, for the Stoic, is the only “Cause” that counts, for it is the true beginning. Without this moving power, matter would be inert, only presenting a possibility of being given any distinct identity.
If a man is not breathing, or walking, or talking, he is nothing more than a lump of lifeless flesh. By analogy, if the Universe is not charged with the Logos, the seminal principle of Reason, it is nothing more than a static mass of indeterminate “stuff”.
Some modern commentators would sadly like to excise such arguments from Stoicism, thereby reducing it to a purely humanistic endeavor, but that doesn’t make them any less true. Deny the Cosmic order, and you inevitably also deny the human order.
—Reflection written in 7/2013
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