You ask me whether every good is desirable. You say: "If it is a good to be brave under torture, to go to the stake with a stout heart, to endure illness with resignation, it follows that these things are desirable. But I do not see that any of them is worth praying for. At any rate I have as yet known of no man who has paid a vow by reason of having been cut to pieces by the rod, or twisted out of shape by the gout, or made taller by the rack."
My dear Lucilius, you must distinguish between these cases; you will then comprehend that there is something in them that is to be desired.
I should prefer to be free from torture; but if the time comes when it must be endured, I shall desire that I may conduct myself therein with bravery, honor, and courage.
Of course I prefer that war should not occur; but if war does occur, I shall desire that I may nobly endure the wounds, the starvation, and all that the exigency of war brings.
Nor am I so mad as to crave illness; but if I must suffer illness, I shall desire that I may do nothing which shows lack of restraint, and nothing that is unmanly.
The conclusion is, not that hardships are desirable, but that virtue is desirable, which enables us patiently to endure hardships.
My dear Lucilius, you must distinguish between these cases; you will then comprehend that there is something in them that is to be desired.
I should prefer to be free from torture; but if the time comes when it must be endured, I shall desire that I may conduct myself therein with bravery, honor, and courage.
Of course I prefer that war should not occur; but if war does occur, I shall desire that I may nobly endure the wounds, the starvation, and all that the exigency of war brings.
Nor am I so mad as to crave illness; but if I must suffer illness, I shall desire that I may do nothing which shows lack of restraint, and nothing that is unmanly.
The conclusion is, not that hardships are desirable, but that virtue is desirable, which enables us patiently to endure hardships.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 67
My years of dabbling in Stoicism have slowly accustomed me to the attitude that suffering is made to be redemptive, so I start to forget how ridiculous that sounds to most anyone else. If we sense the approach of any discomfort, our animal instincts raise the alarm—how could anything good come from this?
I know a fellow who likes to constantly remind me that I am “just a mammal”, and so he says my purpose in life ought to be about increasing my levels of dopamine. I always smile, and I tell him that there is also a little soul attached to that corpse. He has no idea what that means, and so he continues to chase after pleasure and run away from pain. I, too, enjoy the pleasure, but I also see the purpose to the pain.
Nothing in this world stands in isolation, for every action is intrinsically bound to a greater context. One thing will fall so another may rise, and an absence over here serves a presence over there. I have, from grueling experience, learned that this is especially true of hardship, when Providence presents an obstacle precisely so I might become a better man. Nature never acts in vain.
Growth will inevitably involve friction. There is a perfectly good reason, for example, why adolescence is both one of the most agonizing of times, and also one of the most fruitful of times. Or if I did not find myself so deeply frustrated with my wife, I would never be given the chance to love her all the more; I am sure she would say much the same about my own failings.
Like all of us, Lucilius will only learn about the meaning of adversity when he has embraced the very reason he was put upon this Earth. He was not created to be rich, or famous, or pampered—he was created to increase in the virtues, the fulfillment of his human identity. And like all of us, he will find no peace until he follows this calling.
Whatever is good for us is also whatever is desirable. The good in the suffering is not in the occasion of the pain itself, but rather in the transformation of that pain into the of building of character. When all is said and done, there is nothing more critical than a man’s moral integrity—everything else hinges upon it.
I will not pursue torture, or war, or illness for their own sake, but if they happen to come my way, I have a hunch about what I need to do with them.
My years of dabbling in Stoicism have slowly accustomed me to the attitude that suffering is made to be redemptive, so I start to forget how ridiculous that sounds to most anyone else. If we sense the approach of any discomfort, our animal instincts raise the alarm—how could anything good come from this?
I know a fellow who likes to constantly remind me that I am “just a mammal”, and so he says my purpose in life ought to be about increasing my levels of dopamine. I always smile, and I tell him that there is also a little soul attached to that corpse. He has no idea what that means, and so he continues to chase after pleasure and run away from pain. I, too, enjoy the pleasure, but I also see the purpose to the pain.
Nothing in this world stands in isolation, for every action is intrinsically bound to a greater context. One thing will fall so another may rise, and an absence over here serves a presence over there. I have, from grueling experience, learned that this is especially true of hardship, when Providence presents an obstacle precisely so I might become a better man. Nature never acts in vain.
Growth will inevitably involve friction. There is a perfectly good reason, for example, why adolescence is both one of the most agonizing of times, and also one of the most fruitful of times. Or if I did not find myself so deeply frustrated with my wife, I would never be given the chance to love her all the more; I am sure she would say much the same about my own failings.
Like all of us, Lucilius will only learn about the meaning of adversity when he has embraced the very reason he was put upon this Earth. He was not created to be rich, or famous, or pampered—he was created to increase in the virtues, the fulfillment of his human identity. And like all of us, he will find no peace until he follows this calling.
Whatever is good for us is also whatever is desirable. The good in the suffering is not in the occasion of the pain itself, but rather in the transformation of that pain into the of building of character. When all is said and done, there is nothing more critical than a man’s moral integrity—everything else hinges upon it.
I will not pursue torture, or war, or illness for their own sake, but if they happen to come my way, I have a hunch about what I need to do with them.
—Reflection written in 8/2013
IMAGE: Pietro della Francesca, The Flagellation of Christ (c. 1470)
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