But I am ashamed of mankind, as often as I enter the lecture hall. On my way to the house of Metronax I am compelled to go, as you know, right past the Neapolitan Theater. The building is jammed; men are deciding, with tremendous zeal, who is entitled to be called a good flute player; even the Greek piper and the herald draw their crowds.
But in the other place, where the question discussed is: “What is a good man?” and the lesson which we learn is “How to be a good man,” very few are in attendance, and the majority think that even these few are engaged in no good business; they have the name of being empty-headed idlers.
I hope I may be blessed with that kind of mockery; for one should listen in an unruffled spirit to the railings of the ignorant; when one is marching toward the goal of honor, one should scorn scorn itself.
Proceed, then, Lucilius, and hasten, lest you yourself be compelled to learn in your old age, as is the case with me. Nay, you must hasten all the more, because for a long time you have not approached the subject, which is one that you can scarcely learn thoroughly when you are old.
But in the other place, where the question discussed is: “What is a good man?” and the lesson which we learn is “How to be a good man,” very few are in attendance, and the majority think that even these few are engaged in no good business; they have the name of being empty-headed idlers.
I hope I may be blessed with that kind of mockery; for one should listen in an unruffled spirit to the railings of the ignorant; when one is marching toward the goal of honor, one should scorn scorn itself.
Proceed, then, Lucilius, and hasten, lest you yourself be compelled to learn in your old age, as is the case with me. Nay, you must hasten all the more, because for a long time you have not approached the subject, which is one that you can scarcely learn thoroughly when you are old.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 76
I have noticed how most of the bigwigs develop an ability to appear deeply passionate about the fashionable causes they would otherwise neglect, and few topics will bring them more praise than a formulaic enthusiasm on improving education. Only a monster, after all, would fail to think about the children.
You will be disappointed, however, if you expect there to be any wisdom behind the bluster. You will hear about test scores, so that everyone can go to college, and about math skills, so that everyone can become an accountant. Do not ask them to explain how learning elevates the soul, or why the way we learn is far more significant than what we learn; they will refer you to a consultant, who will then refer you to a table of statistics, oblivious to any context of a higher good.
But do not be discouraged, since they are much like the flashy showmen Seneca had to walk past, obsessed with style over substance. You remain free to reflect upon the ends, not just get bogged down in the means. You may agree that only a fool chases philosophy as a career, while insisting that any man who wishes to be good must first embrace philosophy as a complete way of living.
You will surely be mocked for having your head in the clouds, though what you are really doing is keeping your head above water, and yet you will not feel offended, because you know why your merit is in your own character, whatever the blowhards might say. Do not permit them to treat you like a tool: you were called to the dignity of growing into a master craftsman.
As much as old age can refine and perfect a conscience, there is still an urgency to set off on this quest in the vitality of youth. Besides not knowing how much time I will actually be granted, it will take the whole of a life to create the best sort of life.
I now regret not listening to those of my elders who also happened to be my betters, when they prodded me to strike while the iron was hot; the beautiful irony is that we only appreciate the good advice after we no longer require it, and thus we hope to make it right by passing it on to the next generation.
I like the old maxim: no one his deathbed ever said, “I wish I had spent more time on my business.” It is the very fragility of life that finally teaches us to make virtue our sole vocation.
I have noticed how most of the bigwigs develop an ability to appear deeply passionate about the fashionable causes they would otherwise neglect, and few topics will bring them more praise than a formulaic enthusiasm on improving education. Only a monster, after all, would fail to think about the children.
You will be disappointed, however, if you expect there to be any wisdom behind the bluster. You will hear about test scores, so that everyone can go to college, and about math skills, so that everyone can become an accountant. Do not ask them to explain how learning elevates the soul, or why the way we learn is far more significant than what we learn; they will refer you to a consultant, who will then refer you to a table of statistics, oblivious to any context of a higher good.
But do not be discouraged, since they are much like the flashy showmen Seneca had to walk past, obsessed with style over substance. You remain free to reflect upon the ends, not just get bogged down in the means. You may agree that only a fool chases philosophy as a career, while insisting that any man who wishes to be good must first embrace philosophy as a complete way of living.
You will surely be mocked for having your head in the clouds, though what you are really doing is keeping your head above water, and yet you will not feel offended, because you know why your merit is in your own character, whatever the blowhards might say. Do not permit them to treat you like a tool: you were called to the dignity of growing into a master craftsman.
As much as old age can refine and perfect a conscience, there is still an urgency to set off on this quest in the vitality of youth. Besides not knowing how much time I will actually be granted, it will take the whole of a life to create the best sort of life.
I now regret not listening to those of my elders who also happened to be my betters, when they prodded me to strike while the iron was hot; the beautiful irony is that we only appreciate the good advice after we no longer require it, and thus we hope to make it right by passing it on to the next generation.
I like the old maxim: no one his deathbed ever said, “I wish I had spent more time on my business.” It is the very fragility of life that finally teaches us to make virtue our sole vocation.
—Reflection written in 10/2013
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