And, to prove the truth of this to you, I declare that even if I may not be grateful without seeming ungrateful, even if I am able to return a benefit only by an act which resembles an injury; even so, I shall strive in the utmost calmness of spirit toward the purpose which honor demands, in the very midst of disgrace.
No one, I think, rates virtue higher or is more consecrated to virtue than he who has lost his reputation for being a good man in order to keep from losing the approval of his conscience.
Thus, as I have said, your being grateful is more conducive to your own good than to your neighbor’s good. For while your neighbor has had a common, everyday experience—namely, receiving back the gift which he had bestowed—you have had a great experience which is the outcome of an utterly happy condition of soul—to have felt gratitude.
For if wickedness makes men unhappy and virtue makes men blessed, and if it is a virtue to be grateful, then the return which you have made is only the customary thing, but the thing to which you have attained is priceless—the consciousness of gratitude, which comes only to the soul that is divine and blessed.
The opposite feeling to this, however, is immediately attended by the greatest unhappiness; no man, if he be ungrateful, will be unhappy in the future. I allow him no day of grace; he is unhappy forthwith.
No one, I think, rates virtue higher or is more consecrated to virtue than he who has lost his reputation for being a good man in order to keep from losing the approval of his conscience.
Thus, as I have said, your being grateful is more conducive to your own good than to your neighbor’s good. For while your neighbor has had a common, everyday experience—namely, receiving back the gift which he had bestowed—you have had a great experience which is the outcome of an utterly happy condition of soul—to have felt gratitude.
For if wickedness makes men unhappy and virtue makes men blessed, and if it is a virtue to be grateful, then the return which you have made is only the customary thing, but the thing to which you have attained is priceless—the consciousness of gratitude, which comes only to the soul that is divine and blessed.
The opposite feeling to this, however, is immediately attended by the greatest unhappiness; no man, if he be ungrateful, will be unhappy in the future. I allow him no day of grace; he is unhappy forthwith.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 81
Offer a benefit, however you are able, simply because it is an act of charity. Offer thanks, in whatever way you can, simply because it is an act of gratitude. If you wish to be a successful person, you will need to make many elaborate plans, but if you merely wish to be a good person, the rules are incredibly simple.
Some folks will provide all sorts of elaborate excuses for why they can’t manage to do the right thing, when what they really mean is that they can’t be bothered; a commitment to virtue would be too inconvenient, since their comfort comes before their character.
It is far better to follow those who aren’t so easily tripped up by obstacles, who cling to a conscience despite the misfortunes that can so quickly come with it. Indeed, for the very best, the adversity even becomes like a badge of honor.
I remember a dean who stood idly by while a student was being framed, all for the sake of his career. I remember a priest who suddenly lost the crucial files, all out of a concern for his standing. I suppose I have made some progress when I would rather be struck dead than to be anything like these men.
While a neighbor can certainly make good use of a favor, my own reward is far more than just a warm and fuzzy feeling. I am still accustomed to putting more weight on the receiving than on the giving, so I am inclined to forget how we are so radically transformed by our own deeds. If I have, for example, paid off a man’s debts, I have improved the accidents of his circumstances, yet I have simultaneously enriched the essence of my very soul.
It was my first reading of Boethius that exposed me to a lesson both radically subversive and glaringly simple: virtue and vice have their most powerful effects on the inside, not on the outside. Whatever the consequences to our fortune, the righteous man finds happiness, and the wicked man finds misery, because their choices determine whether they will fulfill or destroy their nature. How could it be otherwise, when our purpose as creatures of intellect and of will is to know and to love, upon which the value of everything else is dependent?
It doesn’t matter who else knows of your good efforts, because you will know it, and through that awareness you will be at peace with yourself, the most precious honor there can ever be. And you will be glad to offer a helping hand to the wrongdoer, even if he never thanks you, because he is tortured by his restlessness.
Offer a benefit, however you are able, simply because it is an act of charity. Offer thanks, in whatever way you can, simply because it is an act of gratitude. If you wish to be a successful person, you will need to make many elaborate plans, but if you merely wish to be a good person, the rules are incredibly simple.
Some folks will provide all sorts of elaborate excuses for why they can’t manage to do the right thing, when what they really mean is that they can’t be bothered; a commitment to virtue would be too inconvenient, since their comfort comes before their character.
It is far better to follow those who aren’t so easily tripped up by obstacles, who cling to a conscience despite the misfortunes that can so quickly come with it. Indeed, for the very best, the adversity even becomes like a badge of honor.
I remember a dean who stood idly by while a student was being framed, all for the sake of his career. I remember a priest who suddenly lost the crucial files, all out of a concern for his standing. I suppose I have made some progress when I would rather be struck dead than to be anything like these men.
While a neighbor can certainly make good use of a favor, my own reward is far more than just a warm and fuzzy feeling. I am still accustomed to putting more weight on the receiving than on the giving, so I am inclined to forget how we are so radically transformed by our own deeds. If I have, for example, paid off a man’s debts, I have improved the accidents of his circumstances, yet I have simultaneously enriched the essence of my very soul.
It was my first reading of Boethius that exposed me to a lesson both radically subversive and glaringly simple: virtue and vice have their most powerful effects on the inside, not on the outside. Whatever the consequences to our fortune, the righteous man finds happiness, and the wicked man finds misery, because their choices determine whether they will fulfill or destroy their nature. How could it be otherwise, when our purpose as creatures of intellect and of will is to know and to love, upon which the value of everything else is dependent?
It doesn’t matter who else knows of your good efforts, because you will know it, and through that awareness you will be at peace with yourself, the most precious honor there can ever be. And you will be glad to offer a helping hand to the wrongdoer, even if he never thanks you, because he is tortured by his restlessness.
—Reflection written in 12/2013
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