Next remember that you are a Son.
What part do we expect a son to play? His part is to count all that is his as his father's, to obey him in all things, never to speak ill of him to any, nor to say or do anything to harm him, to give way to him and yield him place in all things, working with him so far as his powers allow.
Next know that you are also a Brother.
For this part too you are bound to show a spirit of concession and obedience; and to speak kindly, and not to claim against another anything that is outside the will, but gladly to sacrifice those things, that you may gain in the region where your will has control.
For look what a thing it is to gain good nature at the price of a lettuce, if it so chance, or the surrender of a chair: what a gain is that!
What part do we expect a son to play? His part is to count all that is his as his father's, to obey him in all things, never to speak ill of him to any, nor to say or do anything to harm him, to give way to him and yield him place in all things, working with him so far as his powers allow.
Next know that you are also a Brother.
For this part too you are bound to show a spirit of concession and obedience; and to speak kindly, and not to claim against another anything that is outside the will, but gladly to sacrifice those things, that you may gain in the region where your will has control.
For look what a thing it is to gain good nature at the price of a lettuce, if it so chance, or the surrender of a chair: what a gain is that!
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.10
Someone recently told me how the standards for virtue have always been constant throughout history, and while I agreed that the measure of our nature is indeed unchanging, since we remain creatures of reason, I also observed how the norms of our fashions can fluctuate wildly, since we are often so keen on neglecting our reason. I have now been on this Earth for long enough to see the values praised by one generation become anathema to the next.
Take, for example, the virtue of obedience. My father still believed in the concept of duty, and he further sought to instill such a discipline within me, but most of my peers would have none of it. For them, it was not an exercise in humble service, but a surrender of their independence; to defer was a sign of weakness, not an expression of strength.
I have often felt terribly alone in arguing that there is a world of difference between a capitulation to force and the freedom to offer respect. My admittedly odd path of reflection has led me to finding a sense of purpose in addressing people as “sir” or “ma’am”, and to being inspired by that old story about Boys Town: “He ain’t heavy, Father, he’s my brother.”
Whether it be honoring a father and a mother or loving a brother and a sister, in either a kinship of blood or a kinship of humanity, the motive is always to first ask what I can give, not to dwell upon what I expect to receive. We end up with contrasting opinions on virtue when one man asks how he can best spend of himself, and another asks how much he can consume for himself.
The faith I was taught as a child said that Jesus was both fully Divine and fully human, and I recall having a moment of insight about the fact that God, bound by nothing, would choose to submit Himself, for the sake of everything. Far from the abstractions of the theologians, I would look at an image of the Holy Family, and I was struck by the sight of a son obeying his parents, though He was also the total source of their being.
While I should never compromise my principles, it is often quite appropriate to give way regarding my preferences. Will bowing to my father’s wishes truly cause me to violate my conscience? Will yielding to my brother’s requests actually condemn me to sin? In so many cases, mere vanity is getting in the way of patience and tolerance.
Even if another is actually asking me two do what I know to be wrong, love makes it possible to refuse with a gracious reverence. Yet if only a bit of money, a touch of convenience, or a smidgen of reputation are at stake, how much wiser and kinder it is to sacrifice them for the sake of an increase in character. By conceding in a petty disagreement, a man can build up his own virtues and simultaneously encourage them in another.
Someone recently told me how the standards for virtue have always been constant throughout history, and while I agreed that the measure of our nature is indeed unchanging, since we remain creatures of reason, I also observed how the norms of our fashions can fluctuate wildly, since we are often so keen on neglecting our reason. I have now been on this Earth for long enough to see the values praised by one generation become anathema to the next.
Take, for example, the virtue of obedience. My father still believed in the concept of duty, and he further sought to instill such a discipline within me, but most of my peers would have none of it. For them, it was not an exercise in humble service, but a surrender of their independence; to defer was a sign of weakness, not an expression of strength.
I have often felt terribly alone in arguing that there is a world of difference between a capitulation to force and the freedom to offer respect. My admittedly odd path of reflection has led me to finding a sense of purpose in addressing people as “sir” or “ma’am”, and to being inspired by that old story about Boys Town: “He ain’t heavy, Father, he’s my brother.”
Whether it be honoring a father and a mother or loving a brother and a sister, in either a kinship of blood or a kinship of humanity, the motive is always to first ask what I can give, not to dwell upon what I expect to receive. We end up with contrasting opinions on virtue when one man asks how he can best spend of himself, and another asks how much he can consume for himself.
The faith I was taught as a child said that Jesus was both fully Divine and fully human, and I recall having a moment of insight about the fact that God, bound by nothing, would choose to submit Himself, for the sake of everything. Far from the abstractions of the theologians, I would look at an image of the Holy Family, and I was struck by the sight of a son obeying his parents, though He was also the total source of their being.
While I should never compromise my principles, it is often quite appropriate to give way regarding my preferences. Will bowing to my father’s wishes truly cause me to violate my conscience? Will yielding to my brother’s requests actually condemn me to sin? In so many cases, mere vanity is getting in the way of patience and tolerance.
Even if another is actually asking me two do what I know to be wrong, love makes it possible to refuse with a gracious reverence. Yet if only a bit of money, a touch of convenience, or a smidgen of reputation are at stake, how much wiser and kinder it is to sacrifice them for the sake of an increase in character. By conceding in a petty disagreement, a man can build up his own virtues and simultaneously encourage them in another.
—Reflection written in 8/2001
IMAGE: Leonard Gaultier, Jesus the Obedient Son (c. 1580)
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