But there are certain goods which reason regards as primary, to which she addresses herself purposely; these are, for example, victory, good children, and the welfare of one's country.
Certain others she regards as secondary; these become manifest only in adversity—for example, equanimity in enduring severe illness or exile.
Certain goods are indifferent; these are no more according to nature than contrary to nature, as, for example, a discreet gait and a sedate posture in a chair. For sitting is an act that is not less according to nature than standing or walking.
The two kinds of goods which are of a higher order are different; the primary are according to nature—such as deriving joy from the dutiful behavior of one's children and from the well-being of one's country.
The secondary are contrary to nature—such as fortitude in resisting torture or in enduring thirst when illness makes the vitals feverish.
"What then," you say; "can anything that is contrary to nature be a good?"
Of course not; but that in which this good takes its rise is sometimes contrary to nature. For being wounded, wasting away over a fire, being afflicted with bad health—such things are contrary to nature; but it is in accordance with nature for a man to preserve an indomitable soul amid such distresses.
To explain my thought briefly, the material with which a good is concerned is sometimes contrary to nature, but a good itself never is contrary, since no good is without reason, and reason is in accordance with nature.
Certain others she regards as secondary; these become manifest only in adversity—for example, equanimity in enduring severe illness or exile.
Certain goods are indifferent; these are no more according to nature than contrary to nature, as, for example, a discreet gait and a sedate posture in a chair. For sitting is an act that is not less according to nature than standing or walking.
The two kinds of goods which are of a higher order are different; the primary are according to nature—such as deriving joy from the dutiful behavior of one's children and from the well-being of one's country.
The secondary are contrary to nature—such as fortitude in resisting torture or in enduring thirst when illness makes the vitals feverish.
"What then," you say; "can anything that is contrary to nature be a good?"
Of course not; but that in which this good takes its rise is sometimes contrary to nature. For being wounded, wasting away over a fire, being afflicted with bad health—such things are contrary to nature; but it is in accordance with nature for a man to preserve an indomitable soul amid such distresses.
To explain my thought briefly, the material with which a good is concerned is sometimes contrary to nature, but a good itself never is contrary, since no good is without reason, and reason is in accordance with nature.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 66
Even as the good is simple in its source and perfect in its end, it manifests itself at different levels, for lack of a better term, with regard to its matter, or in the way it is applied. The circumstances are different, while the essence remains the same. Some goods flow together with a natural inclination, others flow against a natural inclination, and still others are inclined neither naturally nor unnaturally.
As puzzling as this may sound, it doesn’t just have to be a distinction for the bookworm, as it can greatly assist in the untangling of daily problems. When the different components are all bound up together, it is wise to discern them clearly:
Sometimes, we can do the right thing, and it will also be accompanied by agreeable conditions. I speak the truth, and I resolve the quarrel.
Sometimes, we can do the right thing, but it will arise in the context of disagreeable conditions. I endure hunger, so my child may eat.
Sometimes, we can do the right thing, and the conditions are quite neutral, so their worth is relative to how they are employed. I may smile out of friendship, or I may smile out of contempt.
On one day, I might be rewarded for my convictions. On another day, I might have to practice them in prison. On any day, wearing a stylish bowtie only counts if it actually reflects my inner dignity.
Now Nature always acts for the sake of the good, and yet her order is such that a resolution often proceeds from a conflict, an absence becomes the means for a presence, and the lesser is withheld so the greater can be fulfilled. In and of itself, it is not natural for me to feel pain, and yet it is then precisely through the medium of hardship that I can rise to virtue. Nature has done nothing in vain, and every deprivation is an opportunity for transformation and restoration.
As St. Thomas put it so wisely and succinctly, in a way that has been an inspiration to me for many years: we should never commit an evil, but we should be willing to suffer an evil to do what is good.
Does it hurt? While I was not made to be in agony, I was made to use that agony as an occasion for increasing my virtues. One thing is taken away, so that a better thing might take its place. Nature has done nothing in vain.
Even as the good is simple in its source and perfect in its end, it manifests itself at different levels, for lack of a better term, with regard to its matter, or in the way it is applied. The circumstances are different, while the essence remains the same. Some goods flow together with a natural inclination, others flow against a natural inclination, and still others are inclined neither naturally nor unnaturally.
As puzzling as this may sound, it doesn’t just have to be a distinction for the bookworm, as it can greatly assist in the untangling of daily problems. When the different components are all bound up together, it is wise to discern them clearly:
Sometimes, we can do the right thing, and it will also be accompanied by agreeable conditions. I speak the truth, and I resolve the quarrel.
Sometimes, we can do the right thing, but it will arise in the context of disagreeable conditions. I endure hunger, so my child may eat.
Sometimes, we can do the right thing, and the conditions are quite neutral, so their worth is relative to how they are employed. I may smile out of friendship, or I may smile out of contempt.
On one day, I might be rewarded for my convictions. On another day, I might have to practice them in prison. On any day, wearing a stylish bowtie only counts if it actually reflects my inner dignity.
Now Nature always acts for the sake of the good, and yet her order is such that a resolution often proceeds from a conflict, an absence becomes the means for a presence, and the lesser is withheld so the greater can be fulfilled. In and of itself, it is not natural for me to feel pain, and yet it is then precisely through the medium of hardship that I can rise to virtue. Nature has done nothing in vain, and every deprivation is an opportunity for transformation and restoration.
As St. Thomas put it so wisely and succinctly, in a way that has been an inspiration to me for many years: we should never commit an evil, but we should be willing to suffer an evil to do what is good.
Does it hurt? While I was not made to be in agony, I was made to use that agony as an occasion for increasing my virtues. One thing is taken away, so that a better thing might take its place. Nature has done nothing in vain.
—Reflection written in 7/2013
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