Evil men have but one pleasure in benefits, and a very short-lived pleasure at that; it lasts only while they are receiving them.
But the wise man derives therefrom an abiding and eternal joy. For he takes delight not so much in receiving the gift as in having received it; and this joy never perishes; it abides with him always.
He despises the wrongs done him; he forgets them, not accidentally, but voluntarily. He does not put a wrong construction upon everything, or seek for someone whom he may hold responsible for each happening; he rather ascribes even the sins of men to chance.
He will not misinterpret a word or a look; he makes light of all mishaps by interpreting them in a generous way. He does not remember an injury rather than a service.
As far as possible, he lets his memory rest upon the earlier and the better deed, never changing his attitude towards those who havedeserved well of him, except in cases where the bad deeds far outdistance the good, and the space between them is obvious even to one who closes his eyes to it; even then only to this extent, that he strives, after receiving the preponderant injury, to resume the attitude which he held before he received the benefit.
For when the injury merely equals the benefit, a certain amount of kindly feeling is left over. Just as a defendant is acquitted when the votes are equal, and just as the spirit of kindliness always tries to bend every doubtful case toward the better interpretation, so the mind of the wise man, when another’s merits merely equal his bad deeds, will, to be sure, cease to feel an obligation, but does not cease to desire to feel it, and acts precisely like the man who pays his debts even after they have been legally cancelled.
But the wise man derives therefrom an abiding and eternal joy. For he takes delight not so much in receiving the gift as in having received it; and this joy never perishes; it abides with him always.
He despises the wrongs done him; he forgets them, not accidentally, but voluntarily. He does not put a wrong construction upon everything, or seek for someone whom he may hold responsible for each happening; he rather ascribes even the sins of men to chance.
He will not misinterpret a word or a look; he makes light of all mishaps by interpreting them in a generous way. He does not remember an injury rather than a service.
As far as possible, he lets his memory rest upon the earlier and the better deed, never changing his attitude towards those who havedeserved well of him, except in cases where the bad deeds far outdistance the good, and the space between them is obvious even to one who closes his eyes to it; even then only to this extent, that he strives, after receiving the preponderant injury, to resume the attitude which he held before he received the benefit.
For when the injury merely equals the benefit, a certain amount of kindly feeling is left over. Just as a defendant is acquitted when the votes are equal, and just as the spirit of kindliness always tries to bend every doubtful case toward the better interpretation, so the mind of the wise man, when another’s merits merely equal his bad deeds, will, to be sure, cease to feel an obligation, but does not cease to desire to feel it, and acts precisely like the man who pays his debts even after they have been legally cancelled.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 81
As I read Seneca’s description of how the wise man receives a gift, and then also how he is willing to forgive most any offense, I think of the word “gracious”, though I fear this may be more often associated with mere formalities than with a profound depth of character.
It also brings to mind the ideal of a “gentleman” or a “lady”, and even if this is currently considered to be an obsolete standard, you can always find such fine people, however rare, in any time or place.
Simply put, the grasping folks are only interested in the things you can provide for them, after which you are unlikely to hear from them again, unless, of course, they perceive some way they might take advantage of you in the future.
In contrast, the decent folks look beyond the utility of the gift to a respect for the giver, finding a pure satisfaction in seeing their fellows live according to Nature. The greed is conditional, while the love is unconditional.
Long ago, when I was six or seven, I noticed how one of the girls in my class appeared sad, playing alone because the harpies at the top of the social food chain had excluded her. On an impulse, I picked some buttercups, and I gave them to her. The other boys mocked me for being in love with her, and the teacher scolded me for handling a poisonous plant. What I remember most, however, was her genuine and simple “thank you”.
From that day forward, for the next four years, she always showed me an incredible kindness, even when, and perhaps especially when, I was behaving like a horrible beast. Absolutely nothing could stop her from offering a gentle word or an encouraging smile. She clearly left a mark on me, because this passage instantly brought back those pleasant memories.
Almost forty years later, I feel the urge to thank her for overlooking my many sins, but I have somehow forgotten her last name.
While the bitter and cynical will insist that it is impossible to forgive, it is only our own stubbornness that presents an obstacle. For all the times I have been vindictive, it always remains within my power to choose charity, right here and now, since my actions proceed from the freedom of my judgments. I can focus on the good within others, instead of brooding over the flaws.
All of us are branded by our mistakes, so without a pardon none of us can ever be redeemed.
As I read Seneca’s description of how the wise man receives a gift, and then also how he is willing to forgive most any offense, I think of the word “gracious”, though I fear this may be more often associated with mere formalities than with a profound depth of character.
It also brings to mind the ideal of a “gentleman” or a “lady”, and even if this is currently considered to be an obsolete standard, you can always find such fine people, however rare, in any time or place.
Simply put, the grasping folks are only interested in the things you can provide for them, after which you are unlikely to hear from them again, unless, of course, they perceive some way they might take advantage of you in the future.
In contrast, the decent folks look beyond the utility of the gift to a respect for the giver, finding a pure satisfaction in seeing their fellows live according to Nature. The greed is conditional, while the love is unconditional.
Long ago, when I was six or seven, I noticed how one of the girls in my class appeared sad, playing alone because the harpies at the top of the social food chain had excluded her. On an impulse, I picked some buttercups, and I gave them to her. The other boys mocked me for being in love with her, and the teacher scolded me for handling a poisonous plant. What I remember most, however, was her genuine and simple “thank you”.
From that day forward, for the next four years, she always showed me an incredible kindness, even when, and perhaps especially when, I was behaving like a horrible beast. Absolutely nothing could stop her from offering a gentle word or an encouraging smile. She clearly left a mark on me, because this passage instantly brought back those pleasant memories.
Almost forty years later, I feel the urge to thank her for overlooking my many sins, but I have somehow forgotten her last name.
While the bitter and cynical will insist that it is impossible to forgive, it is only our own stubbornness that presents an obstacle. For all the times I have been vindictive, it always remains within my power to choose charity, right here and now, since my actions proceed from the freedom of my judgments. I can focus on the good within others, instead of brooding over the flaws.
All of us are branded by our mistakes, so without a pardon none of us can ever be redeemed.
—Reflection written in 12/2013
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