Musonius Rufus, Fragments 53

Someone who was urging me to take heart quoted a saying of Musonius. 

 

"Musonius," said he, "wishing to rouse a man who was depressed and weary of life, touched him and asked, 'What are you waiting for, why stand you idly gazing? Until God in person shall come and stand by you and utter human speech? Cut off the dead part of your soul and you will recognize the presence of God.'”

 

“Such," he said, "were the words of Musonius."

 

I suffer from the Black Dog. Each and every day that I wake up, I have an immediate feeling that I would prefer to die than go on living. I know what it means to lose heart. 

 

I then take a moment to find my bearings, to remember that each and every thing, including my paltry self, is touched by God.

 

There are many, many like me, and it does us no good to be told to “suck it up”. It would be more helpful to hear that we have worth, and that grace is real, and that you might offer a loving hand. 

 

The world is charged with the grandeur of God. . . 

 

And so I am now fired up, ready to think that I must do nothing at all, that happiness will somehow come to me on a silver platter. The Lord will provide! 

 

No. Providence most certainly provides, but I must first make myself amenable. I must do my own work, in order for the Divine to do its work. 

 

That waking moment is a moment of putting on the armor. It is a moment of sharpening the blade. I know that I will have to fight for my dignity today. 

 

And I am my only enemy. 

 

The armor protects me from my own arrogance. The sword cuts away at my own resentments.

 

I will only find God, and thereby find myself, when I choose to excise what is useless to me. 

 

Once I do my part, with sweat and blood, I will find that God was never something out there. Then I win back my heart. 

 

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 52

"To relax (remittere) the mind," said Musonius, "is to lose (amittere) it."

 

I always enjoy a good play on words, simply because I enjoy the subtleties of language. I sadly did not inherit the linguistic skills of my father, though I did inherit some of his sense of humor. 

 

Yet what Musonius has to say here is far more than a clever joke; it offers me an incredibly important lesson. 

 

Stoicism teaches the pursuit of serenity, of finding a peace of mind in the midst of so much worldly conflict and struggle. Still, when I come across people who present seemingly similar values, I am often struck by what I can only call, with all due respect, a sense of profound laziness. 

 

“Don’t worry about it! Just let it all flow, and don’t make an effort. It’s all good! You don’t have to try; it will come to you.”

 

Lao Tzu did not tell us to sit on our rear ends and grow fat. Krishna did not renounce action, but only a desire for the fruit of the act. The Buddha did not encourage sloppy living. Jesus called us to a conscious commitment of unconditional love, not to become thoughtless and careless. 

 

Tranquility is not passivity. Life is itself a principle of action, and rational life is itself a principle of rational action. The confusion arises when I assume that action must be against something, when it should more rightly be with something. There is the flow!

 

I have little patience for any sort of sloth, but especially not for the moral sort. I know this from my own constant failures, not from judging others. Vice will creep in before I know it, and so I must always be on my guard. 

 

I will keep my eyes open. I will move when my conscience calls me. There will be no falling asleep on the job of life. 

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 51

When I was still a boy at school, I heard that this Greek saying, which I here set down, was uttered by Musonius the philosopher, and because the sentiment is true and striking as well as neatly and concisely rounded out, I was very happy to commit it to memory. 

 

"If one accomplishes some good though with toil, the toil passes, but the good remains; if one does something dishonorable with pleasure, the pleasure passes, but the dishonor remains." 

 

Afterwards I read that same sentiment in a speech of Cato's which was delivered at Numantia to the knights. Although it is expressed a little less compactly and concisely as compared with the Greek which I have quoted, yet because it is earlier and more ancient, it may well seem more impressive. 

 

The words from his speech are the following: "Consider this in your hearts: if you accomplish some good attended with toil, the toil will quickly leave you; but if you do some evil attended with pleasure, the pleasure will quickly pass away, but the bad deed will remain with you always."

 

I can hear the professional scholars already: “We have here another example of how derivative and unoriginal the thinking of Musonius was, recycling the words of Cato the Elder, or of the Greek Stoics that came before him.”

 

I can only shrug and say that I care far less if something happens to be original than I do if it happens to be true. Sharing something helpful is a service, while insisting on taking personal credit is a self-service. 

 

I am also told, by much the same sort of people, that Stoicism is a deeply inefficient philosophy, incapable of getting anything useful done. I can, however, turn to the very passage above for some guidance to set myself straight. 

 

Efficiency, the experts say, is about gaining as much as we can while giving up as little as we have to, the relationship of benefit and cost. I’m already a little worried about the selfishness that can follow from such an approach, and yet it really all depends on what it is we are hoping to gain, and what it is we are willing to lose. 

 

I can talk all I want about the most productive means, and none of it gets me anywhere without first identifying the proper end. Useful for what? 

 

It is in this that the Stoic differs from the usual money maker, or power broker, or fortune seeker, because the Stoic examines human nature itself, and finds that happiness is to be found not in hoarding trinkets, but in a sturdy and steady peace of mind. 

 

Now what, to use the popular term, is the most efficient way to achieve this goal? What is it in this life that is most fleeting, what is it that is most lasting? What will give me the greatest return on my investment? 

 

The circumstances of the moment will come and go very quickly, while the content of my character will stick with me for the long haul. The pain and the pleasure pass, though the state of the soul remains. 

 

Given what has greater or lesser significance, it turns out that working for virtue is far more efficient than working for gratification. 

 

In the end, Stoicism will get the job done quite admirably, as long as I understand what the job actually is, and as long I don’t feel the need to draw attention to myself while doing the work. 

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 50

"Musonius," Herodes said, "ordered a thousand sesterces to be given to a beggar of this sort who was pretending to be a philosopher, and when several people told him that the rascal was a bad and vicious fellow, deserving of nothing good, Musonius, they say, answered with a smile, 'Well then he deserves the money.'"

 

Most everyone, except perhaps the most uptight fellow, will laugh at the joke, and yet most everyone will then also brush aside the uncomfortable truth behind it. I would propose that what is humorous is not merely the nonsensical, but rather a caricature of something that is quite profoundly sensible. 

 

For the Stoic, money, like any other external circumstance, is in and of itself an indifferent; it only becomes good or bad by how we choose to use it. It is easy for me to condemn rich people in general, and to ridicule the faux philosopher in particular, and yet the problem is not the presence or absence of wealth at all, but the deeper attitude within us that riches are somehow important for their own sake. 

 

The crafty beggar is actually being punished by receiving the donation, because all he will do with it is feed his own vices. In this sense, he deserves everything he gets, just as we all ultimately deserve everything we get. Whatever comes to us will be transformed, for right or for wrong, by the content of our character; the blessings and the curses are in the thinking. 

 

Yes, the joke is on the greedy and shifty man, and yet I wonder if the joke is also on me. Like so many other people, I find the story funny, and I do feel a bit satisfied to see the charlatan gets what’s coming to him. Nevertheless, shouldn’t I be looking back at the merit of my own judgments, instead of pointing a finger at someone else’s? 

 

If I take the time to be honest with myself, I might discover that my attitude is not all that much better. I may at first agree with those who complained about the gift, but that falsely comes from thinking that the money is like a reward. I may then seem to agree with Musonius in letting him keep it, but that falsely comes from thinking that the money is like a punishment. 

 

But it is neither a reward nor a punishment, is it? I am still giving it some inherent value. I am still stuck in the assumption that prosperity or poverty make or break our lives, and they really do nothing of the sort; it is virtue or vice that make or break our lives. 

 

I should also laugh at myself here, since I am also making possessions so significant. Stoicism will dig much deeper than I expect. 

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 49

We have it on good authority that Musonius the philosopher in his discourses was accustomed to deprecate and repress applause on the part of his auditors. 

 

"When a philosopher," he said, "is exhorting, persuading, rebuking, or discussing some aspect of philosophy, if the audience pour forth trite and commonplace words of praise in their enthusiasm and unrestraint, if they even shout, if they gesticulate, if they are moved and aroused, and swayed by the charm of his words, by the rhythm of his phrases, and by certain rhetorical repetitions, then you may know that both the speaker and his audience are wasting their time, and that they are not hearing a philosopher speaking but a flute player performing.”

 

 “The mind," he said, "of a man who is listening to a philosopher, if the things which are said are useful and helpful and furnish remedies for faults and errors, has no leisure and time for profuse and extravagant praise. The hearer, whoever he may be, unless he has completely lost his moral sense, in listening to the philosopher's words must shudder and feel secretly ashamed and repentant, and again experience joy and wonder and even have varying facial expressions and changes of feeling as the philosopher's speech affects him and touches his recognition of that part of his soul which is sound and that which is sick.”

 

Moreover, he used to say that great applause and admiration are to be sure not unrelated, but that the greatest admiration yields silence rather than words. For that reason he said the wisest of poets does not have those who listened to Ulysses relating the wonderful tale of his hardships leap up and shout and cry out their approval when he finished speaking, but he says that all kept silent as if struck dumb and senseless because the pleasure they had in hearing him affected their power of speech. 

 

"Thus he spoke; but they all were hushed and silent, and were held spellbound throughout the shadowy halls."

 

I understand that our modes of expression are shaped by our cultures, as well as being specific to our individual dispositions, and so it is important to put such things in perspective. Nevertheless, words and actions that only serve our diversions and vanities are reflections of shallow and confused souls. Empty speech, empty minds. 

 

Far too often, making more noise is a way to avoid honest reflection, and putting on a frantic act becomes a substitute for sincerity. All the hooting and the hollering, the clapping and the stomping, the flowery words and extravagant gestures are like the nervous fidgeting of a man who doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

 

People will often apologize when they are at a loss for words, worried that they are expected to have a speech ready to hand. “I don’t know what to say!”

 

You don’t need to say anything at all. Your silence can speak volumes. The feelings on your face are unfiltered and genuine. You are paying the greatest compliment in simply showing that you are shaken to the core. 

 

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 48

Rufus used to say, "If you have time to waste praising me, I am conscious that what I say is worth nothing." 

 

So far from applause on our part, he spoke in such a way that each of us sitting there felt that someone had gone to him and told him our faults, so accurately he touched upon our true characters, so effectively he placed each one's faults before his eyes.

 

I long felt uncomfortable with the amount of showmanship I saw in education, and I assumed that this was due only to my own stuffiness. Yes, there have been many times when I was foolishly being dour, and yet it took me a while to also see that some people were really just interested in appearing impressive. 

 

A preoccupation with heaping praises and basking in the spotlight will make the admirer ingratiating, and the admired conceited. It begins with a fawning introduction, and ends with rapturous applause, regardless of the quality of what happens in the middle. There is some confusion about the distinction between what is enlightening and what is entertaining. 

 

If I look back carefully, I recall that the times I have been most moved by a speaker have almost always ended in my silence, not in my cheering. I may not, in fact, even be “feeling good” about myself at all, the goal of so much processed pablum, but rather feeling deeply self-conscious of my own urgent need to make myself better. 

 

The thrill of the impassioned crowd fades quickly, while the power of a soul-wrenching insight sticks to the ribs. 

 

Yes, I am probably sounding like a curmudgeon again, but I find that the best teaching will not stroke my ego at all, but rather poke holes in it. I need to be broken down before I can be built back up. 

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 47

On the assassination of Galba someone said to Rufus, "Can you now hold that the world is ruled by Divine Providence?" 

 

To which he replied, "Did I ever for a moment build my argument, that the world is ruled by a Divine Providence, upon Galba?"

 

I once had someone tell me, in all seriousness, that there could not possibly be a God, because Ronald Reagan had been re-elected as President in 1984. 

 

In 1992 I was given a corresponding argument, that Bill Clinton’s victory was a punishment from God for our frightful sins. 

 

In matters big and small, it is not uncommon for us to believe that the plan of Providence can surely only be measured by our personal preferences, by whether or not the circumstances happen to be convenient or inconvenient, pleasant or painful.

 

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Galba became Emperor after Nero’s death, and so many saw him as a blessing from the gods after those turbulent years. Musonius himself benefited from this shift of power, being allowed back into Rome after his exile under Nero. 

 

Yet Galba was soon murdered, leading to a year of conflict in which three more men took turns on the throne. What were the Romans now thinking about the beneficence of their gods?

 

What Musonius understood, however, was that good and evil are not determined by what happens to us, but by what we do with what happens to us. While others may have questioned whether Providence was still in proper working order, he would not have succumbed to such doubts, at peace with the knowledge that Nature was unfolding precisely as it should. 

 

Whether there is poverty or prosperity, war or peace, sickness or health, each and every one of us is still given the opportunity to live with wisdom and virtue; sometimes the most trying times can even become the occasions for the greatest acts of love, if only we so decide. God always gives us exactly what we need, fully conscious of the conditions that can bring out the best within us. 

 

It all goes back to that basic Stoic insight, that happiness is in the exercise of character. We miss the mark terribly when we define ourselves by the presence or absence of pleasure, wealth, or status. I would suggest that this confusion is at the root of all our anxiety and misery. 

 

Reagan or Clinton, Nero or Galba, it can all serve us to grow in decency and kindness. God puts the ball in our court. 

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 46

It is not easy to produce an effect upon soft characters any more than it is to pick up a soft cheese with a hook, but young men of sound nature, even if you turn them away, hold to philosophy all the more. 

 

For that reason, Rufus frequently discouraged pupils, using this as a means of testing the superior and inferior ones. For he used to say, "Just as a stone, even if you throw it upwards, will fall downwards because of its nature, so the superior man, the more one repels him, the more he inclines toward his own natural direction."

 

I have never tried picking up soft cheese with a hook, but I have tried to herd cats and to fix that tiny screw on my eyeglasses, and I can assure you that both are far easier than being a teacher. The student will only receive and retain in proportion to the strength of his own commitment, and there is no way to force him to understand. 

 

The value of everything else in our lives ultimately reduces back to character, our willingness to take full responsibility for ourselves. This is not a strength that comes from possessing many things, or having a powerful body, or being gifted with cleverness, but arises rather from the integrity of our souls. This is never given to us by our circumstances, but proceeds out of our choices. 

 

It is within my power to offer whatever inspiration I might have within me, best presented in the form of a good example as well as fine words, and it is also within my power to distinguish who is most amenable to self-improvement, open to a new perspective. 

 

Those who truly love wisdom and virtue, however difficult their struggles may be, will ultimately seek out truth of their own accord, and will not be easily discouraged from the task. 

 

I will test myself often, firmly but carefully, to see how capable I am at overcoming an obstacle, and I will also do so with the people around me, whether inside or outside a classroom. 

 

Present a barrier, with compassion and concern instead of malice or manipulation, to find out where someone stands. I can raise or lower the bar, move the goal closer or further away, and I will then discover something about the weight of convictions. 

 

I will begin to recognize that the people who wish to become better see a hindrance as an opportunity. Love is such that it pushes back with loyalty when it is pushed away by opposition.

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 45

And in the same way to make trial of me, Rufus used to say, "Such and such a thing will befall you at the hands of your master." 

 

In answer to him, I said that in such a case it would be kind of him to intercede on my behalf.

 

"What!" he exclaimed, "Do you mean that I should intercede on your behalf when I can get the same result from you yourself?" 

 

For in truth what one can get from himself it is superfluous and foolish as well to get from someone else.

 

If Epaphroditus, the master, threatens to punish Epictetus, the slave, what is Epictetus to do? Perhaps he can ask Musonius, the teacher, to put in a good word for him? 

 

If I face any sort of hardship in this life, what am I to do? Who is going to make my troubles go away? 

 

I should never think that Stoicism can espouse selfishness, or neglecting the needs of others, since the unity of Nature always calls for universal compassion and concern. There is no conflict between what is good for me and what is good for my neighbor, because we all share in the same dignity and purpose. 

 

It is important, however, to ask precisely what I am able to do for my fellows, and what my fellows are able to do for me. We can offer one another the deepest solidarity, encouragement, and support, but we cannot make one another’s choices. Assistance will come from the outside, but the formation of character can only come from the inside. 

 

As wonderful as it is to give and receive help, this can never take the place of being first and foremost responsible for ourselves. Epictetus will have to come to terms with the actions of Epaphroditus by his own judgments, and I will have to come to terms with a sense of pain and loss by my own judgments. Only I can ultimately make my troubles go away. 

 

I will gladly offer anything I can to improve your happiness, and I can only hope that you would do the same for me. There is, nevertheless, a great danger in asking others to do our work for us, to cross that line between the helpmate and the enabler. 

 

No good will come from relying on crutches, dependent on being provided with easy circumstances, when we are perfectly able to walk on our own two feet, to be true to our own convictions. 

 

I never liked it when my mother used to tell me that God helps those who help themselves, but I think I have now come to better understand what she meant. 

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 44

Why do we continue to be lazy and careless and sluggish and seek excuses for not working hard and sitting up late to perfect our mastery of logical argument? 

 

"Well, if I have made a mistake in this problem, I haven't been guilty of killing my own father, have I?" 

 

“Stupid boy, shall I show you where in this instance there was a father to kill? The only possible error to make in this example is the one you have made.”

 

Yet that was the very answer I once made to Rufus when he scolded me because I could not find the missing member in a certain syllogism. 

 

"It is not as bad," I said, "as if I had set fire to the Capitol." 

 

Whereupon he answered, "In this case, you foolish fellow, the missing member is the Capitol." 

 

Are these the only possible wrongs, burning the Capitol and killing one's father? 

 

But using one's impressions without purpose or profit and quite at random and failing to follow argument or demonstration or semblance of reason, and completely missing what is to one's advantage or disadvantage in question and answer—are none of these wrongs?

 

Every time I told myself that it was quite okay, because I could have done something so much worse, was a time when I took a step backwards. Before I knew it, I was standing far behind the line where I had started. 

 

I have often tried to make myself feel better by insisting that I was getting it right with all of the big things, and that all of the little things could therefore be more easily overlooked. 

 

“Hey, at least only some of it is messed up!” It may be one thing to say this about my circumstances, but quite another to say it about my own character; I can’t deny any responsibility for the latter. 

 

Progress will have to move forward, even if it can only manage at a snail’s pace. Failures and setbacks do not need to be seen as excuses, but they can be taken as noble encouragements.

 

Just as everything in the whole wide world counts, so everything that I do in the whole wide world counts. 

 

Those big things are made up precisely of many little things, and I cannot expect myself to be proficient at what is harder when I cannot be bothered to commit to what is easier. The rocket scientist must first learn his multiplication tables. 

 

Taking the time and effort to judge with care and concern will be necessary in all the aspects of my life if I wish to improve all the aspects of my humanity. Sweeping the unseemly bits under the rug just makes for a lumpy rug. 

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 43

Thrasea was in the habit of saying, "I should rather be put to death today than be banished tomorrow." 

 

What then did Rufus say to him? "If you choose that as the heavier misfortune, what a foolish choice to make! But if as the lighter, who has given you the choice? Are you not willing to train yourself to be satisfied with what has been given you?"

 

I easily resort to a sort of bargaining, a crutch I imagine many of us will fall back on to varying degrees, where the appearance of inconvenience or conflict leads me to set the conditions for a resolution on my own terms. 

 

“Almighty God, if only You give me this, I promise I will do that!”

 

“Bring her back to me, and then I will always love her!”

 

“I will sacrifice anything else to be freed from this pain!”

 

It makes a sort of sense in the heat of the moment, but it seems rather petty and arrogant if I bother to reflect. 

 

If something is already right to do, why should it matter under what sort of circumstances I choose to do it? If I truly love her, why do I demand that she love me? Will I even trade in my very conscience for a reprieve from suffering? 

 

It isn’t my place to decide what will happen to me, when it will happen to me, or how it will happen to me. It is my place to make something good of myself in the face of whatever happens to me. 

 

Hypothetical musings about how the world could play itself out are all nice and well, but there is no negotiating with the order of Nature. She knows what she must do, and she asks very little of me, just to manage what I must do. 

 

I only get myself twisted into knots when I confuse preferences with principles.  

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 42

Of such a character the Nature of the Universe was and is and will be, and it is not possible for things that come into existence to come into existence differently from the way they now do. 

 

And in this process of change and transformation, not only human beings and other creatures of Earth have had a part, but also the divine beings, and even the four elements are changed and transformed upwards and downwards; that is, earth becomes water and water air, and air is again transformed into ether; and there is the same process of transformation downwards. 

 

If a man resolves to focus his thoughts on these things and persuades himself willingly to accept the inevitable, he will lead a life well measured and in harmony with the Universe.

 

I do myself a great disservice when I claim that the world is random or chaotic, simply because I do not immediately see how the effects flow from the causes, or when I deny that there is any meaning or purpose to things, simply because how they are meant to be is not always as I would wish them to be. 

 

It is my vanity getting in the way, tempting me to insist on the world being my way, or there being no way at all. To put myself in order does not require rejecting the order inherent in other things, and to embrace the necessity of Providence does not negate my own worth. 

 

The frustration that the pieces don’t seem to fit together, and the despair that come from feeling out of place, are only a result of my own confused judgments. The world is unfolding exactly as it should, each little piece playing its own distinct part, and so I am now called to understand how my own choices are intended to play their own distinct part. 

 

There does not need to be any great mystery in seeing the order of Nature at work. I can observe the distinctions between things, the patterns of how they complement one another, the deeper harmony in the tension between opposites, the way beginnings and endings work together with one another. 

 

Despite how all of our artificial posturing tries to cloud it, there is no escaping it. Nor should I want to escape it, because there is the deepest beauty in that total unity.

 

I am anxious when I tell myself I must be at war with the world, serene when I learn to be at peace with the world. If it has happened, it has happened for a perfectly good reason; to discover the value of it for myself is itself included in that perfectly good reason. 

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 41

To share the common notion that we shall be despised by others if in every way we do not strive to harm the first enemies we meet is the mark of mean-minded and ignorant men. 

 

For we say that the despicable man is recognized among other things by his inability to harm his enemies, but actually he is much more easily recognized by his inability to help them.

 

Warning bells go off in my head whenever I hear anyone, regardless of party or creed, speak about destroying the opposition. Yes, the rhetoric might appeal to certain fiery passions, but it still reveals a betrayal of human solidarity. If another must suffer harm in order for me to be right, then I’m fairly sure that my conscience is misinformed. 

 

I understand that this is not a popular view, and it only serves to remind me that what happens to be popular is not always best. The clash of tribes, wherever they may sit on the spectrum, is both a denial of our common identity and a rejection of that old adage, that we should treat others as we would wish to be treated. 

 

If I feel that I have been mistreated, this does not justify my own acts of mistreatment. But when I say this, I am told that I am weak, and that I must now be shunned.

 

At the same time, if I make an argument for choosing to take a stand for myself, I am told that I am now an oppressor, and that I must in turn be oppressed until I conform.

 

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t? 

 

There actually is a resolution, and it involves embracing the fact that no one ever has to lose for someone else to win. This requires understanding that winning or losing are never defined by money, or power over others, or any sort of bragging rights. Winning is living with our own virtue, while losing is living with our own vice. 

 

It might not be possible for everyone to own all of the toys, but it is entirely possible for everyone to practice decency by learning to share them. 

 

Let me be responsible for myself. The left doesn’t like that, so they shake their fists. Let me always seek to help others, and never to cast anyone aside. The right doesn’t like that, and so they spit venom. 

 

Somewhere along the line, we forgot the love was the only real binding law. 

IMAGE: Vincent Van Gogh, The Good Samaritan (1890)

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 40

But most of all the work of Nature is this: to make desire and the impulse to act fit closely with the perception of that which is seemly and useful.

 

When things are inherently made to work together, they can’t do much of worth on their own. I have a nice antique Sasieni pipe bowl, but it is of little use to me missing its stem. I knew a fellow who continually brought a single cross-country ski with him every time he moved over the years, and it inevitably just sat in a series of closets. 

 

Or, as I once discovered much to my annoyance on a lonely back road, there is no way to ride a bicycle with one pedal broken off. 

 

When the human person is in a state of harmony and balance, the will and the intellect must be, as they say, “in sync” with one another. Within us is the innate wanting for something good, as well as the capacity to recognize what is good. In unison, there follows a life of meaning and purpose; in separation, there will be only conflict and frustration. 

 

I will be completely unable to do what is right if I don’t first know what is right, just as all the awareness of profound truths is wasted if it is not applied to my concrete choices. 

 

Few things can be more tragic than a heart that wants to love, but it isn’t on speaking terms with a mind that understands what it means to love. 

 

Imagine if I need a certain kind of mushroom to cure what ails me, and even though I come across dozens of different varieties as I wander through the forest, I don’t know what this particular one is supposed to look like. 

 

The old Thomist in me thinks of the will as an efficient cause, that “pushes” me forward, and the intellect as a final cause, that “pulls” me in the right direction. When they cooperate, I’m going somewhere, but when they are at odds, I’m just going in circles. 

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 39

Who of us does not marvel at the action of Lycurgus the Lacedaemonian? For when he had been blinded in one eye by one of his fellow citizens and had received the young man at the hands of the people to punish as he saw fit, he did not choose to do this, but trained him instead and made a good man of him, and afterward escorted him to the public theater. 

 

And when the Lacedaemonians regarded him with amazement, he said: "This man I received from you an insolent and violent creature; I return him to you a reasonable man and a good citizen."

 

I know many people who define themselves almost completely by their political affiliations, and therefore usually, as I like to say, “start at the top” of any problem. Social matters are seen on a large scale, and so a conformity to certain sets of general dictates is the norm. 

 

Has someone followed the rules? Then he should receive a prescribed pleasurable reward. Has someone broken the rules? Then he should be given a prescribed painful punishment. A belief in the “system”, of whatever sort, is paramount. 

 

I do not deny the importance of such abstractions, but in daily life I find it far more helpful to start with people, not with “—isms”. I see something of this in the above story about Lycurgus, the founder of Spartan law. 

 

Custom gave Lycurgus the power to determine the wrongdoer’s sentence, and I can imagine the usual options of a fine, or imprisonment, or a public caning, or perhaps even exile or execution. 

 

And yet Lycurgus wasn’t interested in vengeance, or causing pain, or removing a criminal from society. He treated the young fellow like a human being, not like a faceless statistic, and was committed to improving his personal character, not beating him into submission. 

 

I will respectfully claim that a society as a whole will only function when its individual members take the time to treat one another with decency and compassion. The rules are only as good as the motives of its members. Justice is built from the bottom up.