A variation on a theme of discipleship

Internal to the Stoic way of reasoning is the claim that its pattern is visible in a human life and not apart from it. The particulars of the exercise that is Stoic reasoning are not analytically verifiable statements but lived shapes. Or, perhaps, the statements of logic that are analytically enticing find their analysis in the course of a Stoic life. A Cato, a Musonius, a Seneca, an Epictetus—these are necessary in the strictest sense to what Stoic reasoning is taken to be. Get an exemplum, says Seneca to Lucilius, so that you see reason in the flesh. Call it to mind so that you know how to become what you seek (Ep. 11.10). According to the Stoic story, the path to nature that is reason’s repair involves imitation of those who have gone before and shown the way.—One True Life: The Stoics and Early Christians as Rival Traditions, 211

<idle musing>
There's a lot to be said for examples. But as Christians, we are told to imitate Jesus, which is a far higher ideal than a Seneca or a Cato or an Epictetus or a Marcus Aurelius. And, we are given the Holy Spirit to empower and guide us in that path.

Yep. I'll take the Christian way over the Stoic way, even while acknowledging that they have much of value. But, it is more a stream of light in a darkened corner than the flood of light in the revelation of God in Jesus.
</idle musing>

But what about family?

The possibility of behaving well toward both father and brother depends upon the judgment that their character is not up to us. By observing this basic distinction, Epictetus teaches, we can be in accord with nature quite apart from how we are treated by father or brother; we can thus fulfill our natural duties irrespective of the behavior of others. The effectiveness of our accordance with natural duties, moreover, is not limited to the philosopher’s family dynamics. As the last sentence of this passage says, because of his harmony with nature, the philosopher’s relation to political life is not fundamentally different from that to his family.—One True Life: The Stoics and Early Christians as Rival Traditions, 63

Stoics and empathy

Epictetus’s answer [to a question about grieving] eliminates true empathy as a possibility within the philosophical life. The Sage's inner security must not falter in the face of that which might disturb him (tarassein).

This does not mean, however, that the Sage cannot appreciate the gifts Providence brings his way, or exhibit affection toward wife or children; indeed, Socrates himself quite clearly “loved his own children.” Yet he loved them as a “free man who remember[ed] that it is first necessary to be a friend to the gods”—which is to say that Socrates’ “love” was free of pathos; it was an affection shaped by reasonable judgments about the mortality of his offspring (Disc. 3.24.59–60).—One True Life: The Stoics and Early Christians as Rival Traditions, 55

<idle musing>
Sounds pretty depressing to me. You can't truly love if you hold your emotions that tightly in check. Part of love is sharing in the joys and griefs of those you love, which includes grieving with those who grieve—but I'm coming at it from a Christian viewpoint, which just highlights the point that Rowe is making: You can't truly understand a different philosophical tradition without becoming part of it.
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Be gone with you!

Philosophy unlocked from life is only show. Interpreting Chrysippus is never an end in itself, something toward which we should strive for its own sake. Philosophy is working on yourself! It is more like rough training for the Olympics than reading a book (Ench. 29), more like the contest of the event itself than lifting weights and flexing your bronzed muscles (Disc. 1.4.13)! Do not say, “See how I have mastered the treatise On Choice” (Disc. 1.4.14). It is “not that I’m looking for, you slave, but how you act in your choices and refusals, your desires and aversions, how you go at things, and apply yourself to them, and prepare yourself, and whether you are acting in harmony with nature therein, or not. For if you are acting in harmony with nature, show me that, and I will tell you that you are making progress; but if out of harmony, be gone with you!" (Disc. 1.4.14—15).—One True Life: The Stoics and Early Christians as Rival Traditions, 53

<idle musing>
Quite a bit different from a college class in philosophy or ethics, isn't it? It sounds more like Paul's "boxing against the air" metaphor. Or James, "show me your faith by your works."

Frankly, we could use more of that in the church. I think they used to call it discipleship back in the day. But, we can't have that, can we? No dying to self for us! No sirree! Live your best life now!

Only problem with that attitude is that the best life is one that is united with Christ—and his sufferings, his emptying himself.

Kenosis. Cruciformity. Theosis.

Good words, all of them. And necessary. May we learn to live them!
</idle musing>

Philosophy is a way of living

Speaking of philosophy as the way we learn how to make right judgments about impressions could lead to the notion that philosophy according to Epictetus was primarily intellectual exercise. Nothing could be farther from the truth. It is true that the “first and greatest task of a philosopher is the ability to test and discriminate between impressions, and to apply none that has not been tested” (Disc. 1.20.7). But such discrimination already occurs within the context of a philosophical life. Like Seneca, Epictetus sees philosophy as a habit of being or a comprehensive style of existence, an emancipatory mode of living that includes not only thought but also the full range of human action.—One True Life: The Stoics and Early Christians as Rival Traditions, 52–53

Image of God?

[talking about God, Epictetus says] that God exists, that God has forethought, that this forethought includes both important heavenly matters and earthly and human concerns, and that such forethought is related to human beings on an individual basis. God, Epictetus might say, relates not just to us but to you and to me. After all, we are God’s children.

God has made us, fashioned us as a master craftsman, begotten us as a father would his children. “Zeus has made you”; “you are the workmanship of the Craftsman" (Disc. 2.8.19, 21, dēmiourgos). Even Caesar can only adopt a divine son, says Epictetus, taking aim at standard imperial practice for securing an heir. “But you,” he tells a student, simply “are the son of God” (Disc. 1.3.2; cf. 1.9.6).—One True Life: The Stoics and Early Christians as Rival Traditions, 47

<idle musing>
Ah, there we go. We have the demiurge popping in, so god to Epictetus isn't fully transcendent, but a step down the ladder of divine beings. That's more in line with what I've always understood Stoics to believe.
</idle musing>

Stoic praise

As this prayer shows, Epictetus’s pious expressions are not simply mythological language intended to express intellectual truths. For Epictetus God means something that calls forth song, praise, prayer, and devotion. God is not simply identified with a correct set of reasoned judgments about the world. There is an irreducible flavor to Epictetus’s speech that cannot be eliminated by achieving conceptual clarity. Indeed, conceptual clarity about his addresses to God requires us to assume that Epictetus was serious. To study in Nicopolis was to learn that the word God means someone you can talk to.—One True Life: The Stoics and Early Christians as Rival Traditions, 46 (emphasis original)

<idle musing>
Interesting, isn't it? I had always thought of Stoics as having a far-off god. This puts a different light on things, though. Wonder where this is going…
</idle musing>