The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Sunday, October 20, 2024

Seneca, Moral Letters 71.5


Why should he not suffer, bravely and calmly, a change in the government? For what is free from the risk of change? Neither earth, nor sky, nor the whole fabric of our Universe, though it be controlled by the hand of God. It will not always preserve its present order; it will be thrown from its course in days to come. 
 
All things move in accord with their appointed times; they are destined to be born, to grow, and to be destroyed. The stars which you see moving above us, and this seemingly immovable earth to which we cling and on which we are set, will be consumed and will cease to exist. 
 
There is nothing that does not have its old age; the intervals are merely unequal at which Nature sends forth all these things towards the same goal. Whatever is, will cease to be, and yet it will not perish, but will be resolved into its elements. 
 
To our minds, this process means perishing, for we behold only that which is nearest; our sluggish mind, under allegiance to the body, does not penetrate to bournes beyond. 
 
Were it not so, the mind would endure with greater courage its own ending and that of its possessions, if only it could hope that life and death, like the whole Universe about us, go by turns, that whatever has been put together is broken up again, that whatever has been broken up is put together again, and that the eternal craftsmanship of God, who controls all things, is working at this task. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 71 
 
“All is like straw” is the next of those annoying Stoic rules I constantly repeat, though I gladly admit to stealing the phrase from St. Thomas Aquinas, then followed closely by “Think much bigger”. I can never go wrong by remembering the fragility of my particular circumstances, and I can never go wrong by simultaneously holding fast to the order of Providence. 
 
Nature delights in change, which is itself a mark of its meaning and purpose, while behind it all is the working of Divine Mind. This little annoyance, which may appear to be so frightful at the moment, will soon pass, once it has served its part. That alluring prize, which may appear to be so indispensable at the moment, will also pass, which is precisely as it should be. 
 
What initially seems so large is really quite small, and what initially seems so distant is really the closest of all. A fleeting misfortune is nothing, just as the presence of God is everything: if I limit myself to a picture of a bearded old man in the sky, even if that is the best my feeble imagination can manage, I am not extending my thought to the fullness of the Whole. 
 
I will not dwell upon the metaphysics here, but there is a good reason why the Stoics equated God with being, and did not merely speak of a Creator who mysteriously hovered above His creatures. While I will raise eyebrows among both the classicists and the Thomists, I dare to suggest that all the Wisdom Traditions point to the ultimate unity of existence, where, as St. Augustine said, things are real insofar as they are from God, and unreal insofar they are not God—only God subsists.
 
I am always viewing things from the perspective of my position, from the bottom up, when I must strive to consider things from the perspective of the Ultimate, from the top down. I do not refer here to a spatial direction, but to what I can only call a causal priority, placing what is relative within the context of what is absolute, what is contingent upon what is necessary, and what is imperfect under what is perfect. 
 
That I am young and vital now, though I will soon be old and feeble, or that I feel pleasure now, though I will soon feel pain, is not a burden, if I am willing to extend my awareness beyond the appearance of the temporary into the realm of the eternal. 

—Reflection written in 9/2013 

IMAGE: Michelangelo, Creation of Adam, detail (1510) 



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