Stoicism

I've been reading the Moral Discourses of Epictetus for a while, and they're pretty awesome. Epictetus' comments on desire and aversion - that if you allow yourself to want or fear anything, anyone who can give or take those things away becomes your master - may seem a tad obvious, but sometimes the obvious needs stating. Similarly, his point that Reason is a mark of humanity, and therefore it is living conformably to nature to have Reason command or restrain your passions (a similar point could be made regarding the development of morals and manners to regulate the appetites being an entirely natural activity) - although the idea that Jupiter gave us desires and aversions that he expects us to be completely indifferent to is somewhat curious. I was unable to determine how Epictetus got from "only virtue and reason are entirely under your own control" to "only virtue and reason are good and should be desired", but maybe that's why Epictetus is more famous than me.

That all things independent on choice should be regarded with indifference Epictetus extends to the loss of wife and children and friends, quoting with approval some greek hero who, upon the loss of his son, accepted it with the words "I knew that I had begotten one born to die". "I do not say you should not groan outwardly", the E-man says of such occasions as one's child dying, "but take care not to groan inwardly also". A somewhat inhumane approach to life, but it's mitigated by his choice of metaphor to justify this - when invited for dinner, you don't complain if the courses are not to your choosing; and when the servant carrying wine or food passes you, he says, reach out your hand, but be content to wait until he does, and don't complain at his absence. This doesn't entirely bear up to the weight his philosophy puts on it - to what does one compare death, torture and bereaval? Hunger pangs, or the torment of having leeks or sweet'n'sour food put in front of you and being expected to eat it? - but it does show an instinct towards regarding life as a good thing, and an honour to be able to participate in.

Anyway; while pondering all of this, I realised Job was also a stoic of sorts, at least initially. When he says "the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away", and remonstrates with his wife, saying "shall we accept good from the Lord, and not evil?" he displays an attitude towards suffering that Epictetus would have whole-heartedly approved of; and the writer of Job approves as well, for basically the same reason Epictetus didn't want to regard suffering as a bad thing: not wanting to charge God with unreason (curious, as God has already charged himself with unreason - "you incited me to ruin him without reason", he tells Satan). But inwardly Job grieves and groans in a manner unbecoming a Stoic, and when his friends turn up and try to comfort him, he erupts and starts ranting.

Epictetus has lived his life with the consequences of the Fall, having been a slave and seen all the sundry evils of life in the city and the tyranny of the roman emperors; he knows that both good and evil come from the mouth of the Lord, and thinks, well, we'd better get used to it. But Job had been living in a sort of Eden, even if surrounded by people who didn't, and was then fast-tracked into the depths of human misery, for no fault of his own. He'd flown higher and sunk lower than Epictetus, and was thus very poorly suited for the project of just accepting his lot (which makes it more impressive that he could just sit there and say "The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away"). Furthermore, Epictetus believed in following the light of Reason and pretty much nothing else; but the sense of the numinous, or living in the sunlight of the presence and goodness of God, aren't comprehensible to reason or philosophy, but I'm pretty sure Job felt them strongly. His demand of God is not a matter of cold philosophy, but comes from the heart of one who was, and somehow still is, convinced of the divine goodness and mercy. He can't be satisfied with mere endurance of misery, so he cries out to God - "shakes the pillars of the world and strikes insanely at the heavens", as Chesterton has it; "he lashes the stars, but it is not to silence them; it is to make them speak."

In the end Job gets an answer; or rather, he gets the enigmas of God, which are somehow more satisfying than your typical theodicy ("the riddles of God are more satisfying than the solutions of man" - Chesterton). Epictetus was never as favoured, but then, he never railed against heaven and demanded answers of God, either. One suspects Epictetus (if accordingly transplanted in time and space) would have sided with Job's friends, explaining that the universe was entirely reasonable and that he should just calm down a bit; and would likewise have been denounced by God at the end of the poem. (Chesterton again: "The mechanical optimist... points out that the fine thing about the world is that it can all be explained. That is the one point, if I may put it so, on which God, in return, is explicit to the point of violence. God says, in effect, that if there is one fine thing about the world, as far as men are concerned, it is that it cannot be explained.")

In conclusion: Epictetus put forth his philosophy with intelligence and humour and a lack of sententiousness, making some good points along the way, and his philosophy achieved virtue and a restricted awesomeness at the price of being somewhat inhumane. Stoicism was for people who'd never heard of Eden, I think, which might explain why it disappeared shortly after Christianity started spreading. (The fact that Christianity upstaged Stoicism by having its martyrs patiently endure suffering without the benefit of philosophical education probably contributed, as well.)

(Chesterton's comments on the Book of Job may be read here.)