And yet that was a very bold word which I spoke when I assured myself that I should have some quiet, and some uninterrupted retirement. For lo, a great cheer comes from the stadium, and while it does not drive me distracted, yet it shifts my thought to a contrast suggested by this very noise.
How many men, I say to myself, train their bodies, and how few train their minds! What crowds flock to the games—spurious as they are and arranged merely for pastime—and what a solitude reigns where the good arts are taught! How feather-brained are the athletes whose muscles and shoulders we admire!
The question which I ponder most of all is this: if the body can be trained to such a degree of endurance that it will stand the blows and kicks of several opponents at once and to such a degree that a man can last out the day and resist the scorching sun in the midst of the burning dust, drenched all the while with his own blood —if this can be done, how much more easily might the mind be toughened so that it could receive the blows of Fortune and not be conquered, so that it might struggle to its feet again after it has been laid low, after it has been trampled underfoot?
How many men, I say to myself, train their bodies, and how few train their minds! What crowds flock to the games—spurious as they are and arranged merely for pastime—and what a solitude reigns where the good arts are taught! How feather-brained are the athletes whose muscles and shoulders we admire!
The question which I ponder most of all is this: if the body can be trained to such a degree of endurance that it will stand the blows and kicks of several opponents at once and to such a degree that a man can last out the day and resist the scorching sun in the midst of the burning dust, drenched all the while with his own blood —if this can be done, how much more easily might the mind be toughened so that it could receive the blows of Fortune and not be conquered, so that it might struggle to its feet again after it has been laid low, after it has been trampled underfoot?
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 80
I was sometimes told that I was being a snob for not buying into the football frenzy, though my motives never did involve a belief in being superior. If anything, I felt that I was missing something, that others already knew who they were supposed to be, while I was still struggling to find my place in things. Even as I observed from afar, I most certainly did not belong to the tribe.
When I later read this letter by Seneca, I recognized something of my own thoughts from back then, expressed with a far greater clarity than I could ever manage. It would be easy to say that I was condemning the excitement of the fans in the stadium, yet all that really came to my mind was why we could not take that enthusiasm for the great feats of the body, and then also apply it to the great feats of the soul.
The problem does not merely come from celebrating athletic excellence, but it rather arises when we ignore any moral excellence. Would the crowd cheer with equal passion for a fellow who faced overwhelming odds in order to forgive his enemy? Indeed, should not the latter elicit far more intensity than the former, since the goods of the spirit are for more critical to our lives than the goods of the flesh?
And how much time and effort are dedicated to building up the muscles on the outside, when only a lip service is paid to building up the character on the inside? With Plato, I do admire a formation of the whole person; I only have an objection when our model of the person is turned upside down, where both the mind and the will become like slaves to the gut.
In case that still sounds too haughty, I ought to follow Seneca’s example, by not simply bemoaning how terrible we are, but by further inspiring us to learn how much better we can yet become. Observe the incredible hardships we are willing to suffer so we might vanquish a foe on the field. Now imagine those same sacrifices made for the sake of increasing the virtues in our own hearts.
If we chose to glorify such a way of life, there might well be as many aspiring sages on a university campus as there are now aspiring athletes. Our constancy would perhaps make us invincible on a whole new level.
I was sometimes told that I was being a snob for not buying into the football frenzy, though my motives never did involve a belief in being superior. If anything, I felt that I was missing something, that others already knew who they were supposed to be, while I was still struggling to find my place in things. Even as I observed from afar, I most certainly did not belong to the tribe.
When I later read this letter by Seneca, I recognized something of my own thoughts from back then, expressed with a far greater clarity than I could ever manage. It would be easy to say that I was condemning the excitement of the fans in the stadium, yet all that really came to my mind was why we could not take that enthusiasm for the great feats of the body, and then also apply it to the great feats of the soul.
The problem does not merely come from celebrating athletic excellence, but it rather arises when we ignore any moral excellence. Would the crowd cheer with equal passion for a fellow who faced overwhelming odds in order to forgive his enemy? Indeed, should not the latter elicit far more intensity than the former, since the goods of the spirit are for more critical to our lives than the goods of the flesh?
And how much time and effort are dedicated to building up the muscles on the outside, when only a lip service is paid to building up the character on the inside? With Plato, I do admire a formation of the whole person; I only have an objection when our model of the person is turned upside down, where both the mind and the will become like slaves to the gut.
In case that still sounds too haughty, I ought to follow Seneca’s example, by not simply bemoaning how terrible we are, but by further inspiring us to learn how much better we can yet become. Observe the incredible hardships we are willing to suffer so we might vanquish a foe on the field. Now imagine those same sacrifices made for the sake of increasing the virtues in our own hearts.
If we chose to glorify such a way of life, there might well be as many aspiring sages on a university campus as there are now aspiring athletes. Our constancy would perhaps make us invincible on a whole new level.
—Reflection written in 11/2013
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