But we should not slip back into the subject which we have already sufficiently investigated. In this balancing of benefits and injuries, the good man will, to be sure, judge with the highest degree of fairness, but he will incline towards the side of the benefit; he will turn more readily in this direction.
Moreover, in affairs of this kind the person concerned is wont to count for a great deal. Men say: “You conferred a benefit upon me in that matter of the slave, but you did me an injury in the case of my father” or, “You saved my son, but robbed me of a father.”
Similarly, he will follow up all other matters in which comparisons can be made, and if the difference be very slight, he will pretend not to notice it. Even though the difference be great, yet if the concession can be made without impairment of duty and loyalty, our good man will overlook it—that is, provided the injury exclusively affects the good man himself.
To sum up, the matter stands thus: the good man will be easy-going in striking a balance; he will allow too much to be set against his credit. He will be unwilling to pay a benefit by balancing the injury against it. The side towards which he will lean, the tendency which he will exhibit, is the desire to be under obligations for the favor, and the desire to make return thereof.
For anyone who receives a benefit more gladly than he repays it is mistaken. By as much as he who pays is more light-hearted than he who borrows, by so much ought he to be more joyful who unburdens himself of the greatest debt—a benefit received—than he who incurs the greatest obligations.
For ungrateful men make mistakes in this respect also: they have to pay their creditors both capital and interest, but they think that benefits are currency which they can use without interest. So the debts grow through postponement, and the later the action is postponed the more remains to be paid.
A man is an ingrate if he repays a favor without interest. Therefore, interest also should be allowed for, when you compare your receipts and your expenses. We should try by all means to be as grateful as possible.
Moreover, in affairs of this kind the person concerned is wont to count for a great deal. Men say: “You conferred a benefit upon me in that matter of the slave, but you did me an injury in the case of my father” or, “You saved my son, but robbed me of a father.”
Similarly, he will follow up all other matters in which comparisons can be made, and if the difference be very slight, he will pretend not to notice it. Even though the difference be great, yet if the concession can be made without impairment of duty and loyalty, our good man will overlook it—that is, provided the injury exclusively affects the good man himself.
To sum up, the matter stands thus: the good man will be easy-going in striking a balance; he will allow too much to be set against his credit. He will be unwilling to pay a benefit by balancing the injury against it. The side towards which he will lean, the tendency which he will exhibit, is the desire to be under obligations for the favor, and the desire to make return thereof.
For anyone who receives a benefit more gladly than he repays it is mistaken. By as much as he who pays is more light-hearted than he who borrows, by so much ought he to be more joyful who unburdens himself of the greatest debt—a benefit received—than he who incurs the greatest obligations.
For ungrateful men make mistakes in this respect also: they have to pay their creditors both capital and interest, but they think that benefits are currency which they can use without interest. So the debts grow through postponement, and the later the action is postponed the more remains to be paid.
A man is an ingrate if he repays a favor without interest. Therefore, interest also should be allowed for, when you compare your receipts and your expenses. We should try by all means to be as grateful as possible.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 81
The old Thomist in me will always say that mercy does not override justice, but rather perfects it. To offer a gift, or to grant forgiveness, is not about ignoring the credits and the debits, but rather about choosing to freely carry the burden for another. Though it seems like a loss to the merchant, who measures his life in commodities, it is actually a profit to the sage, who measures his life by character.
This will only make sense to someone who has made the Stoic Turn, who has worked his way back to the first principles of what is good and evil for human nature, something the slave to convention has sadly not given a second thought. We are quick to praise the fellow who gets what he wants, while forgetting to honor the fellow who only wants what he can give.
In striking the proper balance, the good man will pull himself in one direction to lighten the load on the other side of the scales. This is why you will always recognize the virtuous by their attitudes of service, a willingness to give more than they receive, to yield more than they claim, to permit more than they forbid. What a great contrast there is between those who loudly insist upon their rights and those who quietly commit to their responsibilities!
To be easy-going is not to be careless, and to be light-hearted is not to be flippant. If I am providing a benefit, I must be acutely conscious of how it will be applied, and if I am accepting a benefit, I must constantly remember my sacred duty to return the favor. Indeed, if my judgment is sound, the reciprocation of a kindness should become a privilege instead of a hardship, since gratitude will naturally express itself as a response in kind.
I am, for example, so used to enduring the payment of interest with resentment, because I just see myself getting poorer, and the lender getting richer. Yet while I must never permit myself to be exploited, it is only my own greed that keeps me from being thankful, by returning something more than was initially received.
And even if I find myself in the clutches of a usurer, nothing is forcing me to follow his lead; I can freely let him have his money, and I can thereby retain my integrity. If I am willing to put my principles ahead of my possessions, his questionable intentions do not need to sully my own.
Have I chosen to be generous? Have I chosen to be grateful? These are the questions that matter. I am tempted to complain about everyone else being unfair, and then I remember my Oma telling how this made it all the more important for me to be fair. We turn to the red herring of “whataboutism” when we are looking to justify our own selfishness and laziness.
I do not deny that it will be difficult to follow such a path, but, as I so often remind myself, the most important things have a way of being the most challenging things. For every hundred times I have offered a helping hand, I am lucky to be thanked even once, and sometimes I am even condemned for it. Now let me put the shoe on the other foot: what is my record with showing some appreciation? It certainly isn’t as good as I would like. As Epictetus would say, which of these two conditions is it within my power to change?
A few months ago, my son asked me why I was so polite with a rude clerk at our local grocery store. Before I could offer a response, I was pleased to see him talking it out on his own, and then concluding that “always being nice is the only way to go, even if they’re being jerks.” The boy gets it.
The old Thomist in me will always say that mercy does not override justice, but rather perfects it. To offer a gift, or to grant forgiveness, is not about ignoring the credits and the debits, but rather about choosing to freely carry the burden for another. Though it seems like a loss to the merchant, who measures his life in commodities, it is actually a profit to the sage, who measures his life by character.
This will only make sense to someone who has made the Stoic Turn, who has worked his way back to the first principles of what is good and evil for human nature, something the slave to convention has sadly not given a second thought. We are quick to praise the fellow who gets what he wants, while forgetting to honor the fellow who only wants what he can give.
In striking the proper balance, the good man will pull himself in one direction to lighten the load on the other side of the scales. This is why you will always recognize the virtuous by their attitudes of service, a willingness to give more than they receive, to yield more than they claim, to permit more than they forbid. What a great contrast there is between those who loudly insist upon their rights and those who quietly commit to their responsibilities!
To be easy-going is not to be careless, and to be light-hearted is not to be flippant. If I am providing a benefit, I must be acutely conscious of how it will be applied, and if I am accepting a benefit, I must constantly remember my sacred duty to return the favor. Indeed, if my judgment is sound, the reciprocation of a kindness should become a privilege instead of a hardship, since gratitude will naturally express itself as a response in kind.
I am, for example, so used to enduring the payment of interest with resentment, because I just see myself getting poorer, and the lender getting richer. Yet while I must never permit myself to be exploited, it is only my own greed that keeps me from being thankful, by returning something more than was initially received.
And even if I find myself in the clutches of a usurer, nothing is forcing me to follow his lead; I can freely let him have his money, and I can thereby retain my integrity. If I am willing to put my principles ahead of my possessions, his questionable intentions do not need to sully my own.
Have I chosen to be generous? Have I chosen to be grateful? These are the questions that matter. I am tempted to complain about everyone else being unfair, and then I remember my Oma telling how this made it all the more important for me to be fair. We turn to the red herring of “whataboutism” when we are looking to justify our own selfishness and laziness.
I do not deny that it will be difficult to follow such a path, but, as I so often remind myself, the most important things have a way of being the most challenging things. For every hundred times I have offered a helping hand, I am lucky to be thanked even once, and sometimes I am even condemned for it. Now let me put the shoe on the other foot: what is my record with showing some appreciation? It certainly isn’t as good as I would like. As Epictetus would say, which of these two conditions is it within my power to change?
A few months ago, my son asked me why I was so polite with a rude clerk at our local grocery store. Before I could offer a response, I was pleased to see him talking it out on his own, and then concluding that “always being nice is the only way to go, even if they’re being jerks.” The boy gets it.
—Reflection written in 12/2013
IMAGE: Bartolome Esteban Murillo, The Return of the Prodigal Son (c. 1670)
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