Some men flatter themselves that they have checked these evils by themselves even without the aid of philosophy; but when some accident catches them off their guard, a tardy confession of error is wrung from them. Their boastful words perish from their lips when the torturer commands them to stretch forth their hands, and when death draws nearer!
You might say to such a man: “It was easy for you to challenge evils that were not nearby; but here comes pain, which you declared you could endure; here comes death, against which you uttered many a courageous boast! The whip cracks, the sword flashes:
“Ah now, Aeneas, thou must needs be stout
And strong of heart!”
This strength of heart, however, will come from constant study, provided that you practice, not with the tongue but with the soul, and provided that you prepare yourself to meet death.
You might say to such a man: “It was easy for you to challenge evils that were not nearby; but here comes pain, which you declared you could endure; here comes death, against which you uttered many a courageous boast! The whip cracks, the sword flashes:
“Ah now, Aeneas, thou must needs be stout
And strong of heart!”
This strength of heart, however, will come from constant study, provided that you practice, not with the tongue but with the soul, and provided that you prepare yourself to meet death.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 82
We are prone to lying far more often than we are willing to admit to ourselves, and some of the most extensive falsehoods are the tall tales we tell about our righteousness and our happiness. Even the biggest scoundrel acts deeply offended if you question his integrity, and the poor fellow drowning in his misery feels the urge to put on a phony smile for the camera.
I need not assume any malice, however, since I know full well how tempting it is to lay down a smokescreen when confronted by doubt and fear. A show of cockiness is frequently a sign of the deepest insecurity, and the know-it-all is desperately hoping that no one will call him out on his ignorance.
A common trait of the V.I.P.’s is their belief that they can do no wrong, and an insistence that their good fortune is a reward for their many personal merits. Yet what happens to them once their luck has changed, and the odds are no longer stacked in their favor? The elaborate façade collapses, and the smug complacency is replaced by outrage and recrimination.
If I depend on a clever arrangement of the circumstances, stacked precariously like a house of cards, I will no doubt look down my nose at philosophy, since I can see no way for it to serve my vanity. Yet once I learn how pointless it was to rely upon trinkets and titles, I will cry out for some deeper meaning and value to this life—though I fear it may well be too late.
It is easy to coach a game, or to run a business, or to wage a war from a cozy recliner; the true test comes on the field, at the factory, or in the trenches. When the grand theory meets the gritty practice, it is prudence that defines what is true and good, fortitude that forms commitment, temperance that breeds discipline, and justice that ensures solidarity. Such virtues demand the constant exercise of philosophy, for which lofty words or deep pockets are no substitute.
When Aeneas must descend into the underworld, the Sibyl reminds him why only his inner strength of character can allow him to fulfill his destiny. When the comforts of the world have fallen away, there is no other way to stand against the pain, and yes, even against the power of death itself.
We are prone to lying far more often than we are willing to admit to ourselves, and some of the most extensive falsehoods are the tall tales we tell about our righteousness and our happiness. Even the biggest scoundrel acts deeply offended if you question his integrity, and the poor fellow drowning in his misery feels the urge to put on a phony smile for the camera.
I need not assume any malice, however, since I know full well how tempting it is to lay down a smokescreen when confronted by doubt and fear. A show of cockiness is frequently a sign of the deepest insecurity, and the know-it-all is desperately hoping that no one will call him out on his ignorance.
A common trait of the V.I.P.’s is their belief that they can do no wrong, and an insistence that their good fortune is a reward for their many personal merits. Yet what happens to them once their luck has changed, and the odds are no longer stacked in their favor? The elaborate façade collapses, and the smug complacency is replaced by outrage and recrimination.
If I depend on a clever arrangement of the circumstances, stacked precariously like a house of cards, I will no doubt look down my nose at philosophy, since I can see no way for it to serve my vanity. Yet once I learn how pointless it was to rely upon trinkets and titles, I will cry out for some deeper meaning and value to this life—though I fear it may well be too late.
It is easy to coach a game, or to run a business, or to wage a war from a cozy recliner; the true test comes on the field, at the factory, or in the trenches. When the grand theory meets the gritty practice, it is prudence that defines what is true and good, fortitude that forms commitment, temperance that breeds discipline, and justice that ensures solidarity. Such virtues demand the constant exercise of philosophy, for which lofty words or deep pockets are no substitute.
When Aeneas must descend into the underworld, the Sibyl reminds him why only his inner strength of character can allow him to fulfill his destiny. When the comforts of the world have fallen away, there is no other way to stand against the pain, and yes, even against the power of death itself.
—Reflection written in 12/2013
IMAGE: Peter Paul Rubens, Aeneas in the Underworld (c. 1610)
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