But no man can be grateful unless he has learned to scorn the things which drive the common herd to distraction; if you wish to make return for a favor, you must be willing to go into exile, or to pour forth your blood, or to undergo poverty, or—and this will frequently happen—even to let your very innocence be stained and exposed to shameful slanders.
It is no slight price that a man must pay for being grateful. We hold nothing dearer than a benefit, so long as we are seeking one; we hold nothing cheaper after we have received it.
Do you ask what it is that makes us forget benefits received? It is our extreme greed for receiving others. We consider not what we have obtained, but what we are to seek. We are deflected from the right course by riches, titles, power, and everything which is valuable in our opinion but worthless when rated at its real value.
We do not know how to weigh matters; we should take counsel regarding them, not with their reputation but with their nature; those things possess no grandeur wherewith to enthrall our minds, except the fact that we have become accustomed to marvel at them.
For they are not praised because they ought to be desired, but they are desired because they have been praised; and when the error of individuals has once created error on the part of the public, then the public error goes on creating error on the part of individuals.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 81
Gratitude, like any form of love, demands an unqualified commitment, one that is about honoring the person, not merely about appreciating a convenience.
The mercenary, who seeks profit before principle, does not understand such an attitude, because he does not choose to reflect upon his nature, only to be led by his impulses. This can sadly become the default position, the lowest common denominator, because it is easier to follow the crowd than to stand alone.
If a man has actually suffered on account of showing his thanks, you have a clue that he might truly be worth something on the inside.
Consider how many people will be quite generous with their fine words of recognition, sometimes embarrassingly so, and how few people will lift a finger for you when the going gets tough. By misplacing the source of the benefit, we are often grateful for the satisfaction, but we are rarely satisfied to be grateful.
I was once called into a dean’s office, and I had already resigned myself to one of the usual scoldings. This time, however, I was praised to the high heavens for having openly said something that no one else was willing to say, and which had saved the administration from an awkward situation. It all sounded too good to be true, and indeed it was.
“You’ll have to forgive us, of course, for not expressing our indebtedness in public, because . . . well, it just wouldn’t be good optics.”
Yes, I understood quite well. I also knew how quickly they would forget the score, as soon as my doggedness was no longer so useful to them. I was also happy to forgive them, but not for the reasons they held so dear.
Though I like to complain when the paycheck disappears and my reputation is shot, I now usually catch myself before I have done too much damage. I need to remember why bearing a hardship can be a proof of character, not a penalty for refusing to play the game. I am free to find meaning in the giving over the receiving, and I can be at peace with following my conscience when no one pats me on the back.
As much as our crooked institutions discourage us from acting with integrity, do not forget how the power of the whole is nothing without the cooperation of the parts. Getting tossed about is a worthwhile price to pay for going against the current.
—Reflection written in 12/2013
