Bottom Line: At any point in our adult life two questions by Socrates are important in order to live meaningful lives. We often do not like the answer to the first and dread the answer to the second.
Today I begin a semester long class reading Phaedrus with a group of Torrey alum. We will also be watching the films of Steven Spielberg, but more on that jolly activity later.
The dialogue Phaedrus begins with Socratic questions about location and ends with a command from Socrates that they “go.” They seem to have learned something as Socrates feels he knows enough about “where they are going” to command them to leave.
From Socrates, the master of bewilderment, that seems significant!
The bright young man, Phaedrus, has been learning all day with a son of Cephalus, Lysias, a master of rhetoric and a defender of the Athenian democracy which would kill Socrates. This Cephalus is the host of the great discussion of Republic.
As a result of his day of study he is taking a stretch on the country roads outside the city. Since the family has a house in Piraeus he might be headed in that direction.
It is especially odd to meet Socrates, the man of the marketplace, outside the city walls.
When he sees Phaedrus, Socrates asks two questions:
Socrates: Dear Phaedrus, whither away, and where do you come from?
Phaedrus: From Lysias, Socrates, the son of Cephalus; and I am going for a walk outside the wall. For I spent a long time there with Lysias, sitting since early morning; and on the advice of your friend and mine, Acumenus, I am taking my walk on the roads; for he says they are less fatiguing than the streets.
Most of us do not like to think too hard about where we have been.
If we are following the safe and “good” path laid out for us by culture, we do not want to inquire too closely in case we find out that this unexamined path was actually bad. We are cogs for an evil machine, slaves to an ugly culture.
If we were a “rebel,” then we fear discovering that our rebellion did more harm than good or that our freedom was really slavery to the establishment in reverse. “How could this be?” the young man all in black says slouching in his favorite barrista chair.
I know the answer to this from personal experience.
We simply did the opposite of what our parents did and our motives were often hedonism dressed up in fancy philosophical talk.
One hundred years ago:
“Ah, Freda,” the young rebel and modern said as he kissed her, “What is morality? It is a convention of priests to oppress the poor.”
Fifty years ago:
“Ah, Freda,” the young rebel and hippie said as he kissed her, “What is morality? It is the love we feel in this new Aquarian age.”
Today:
“Ah, Freda,” the young rebel and post-modern said as he kissed her, “What is morality? It is a language game for the powerful.”
Knowing where we have been and examining the value of what we have been doing can cause a “mid-life” crisis. The dumpy executive in crisis often refuses to ask the second question, “Where are you going?” because he knows the dreadful truth.
Like Scrooge in Christmas Carol with the Ghost of Christmas future, we fear the answer to the second question more than any other. We know, fundamentally, that even the paths of glory lead inexorably to the grave.
The crisis cannot be solved by a new car, business, or wardrobe. Generally, this change of direction makes a man look a clown and does even change his fundamental course. He is headed for heaven or hell and he is getting there quickly.
The undiscovered country waits and he cannot avoid it by a total makeover.
The Christian answer to this problem is simple: die.
There is meaningful (even if apocryphal) tale about Saint Peter which sums up the Christian attitude. The story is summarized here:
His friends, so runs the story, had entreated the Apostle to save his life by leaving the city. Peter at last consented, but on condition that he should go away alone.
But when he wished to pass the gate of the city, he saw Christ meeting him. Falling down in adoration he says to Him ‘Lord, whither goest Thou?’ [Latin, quo vadis?]
And Christ replied to him ‘I am coming to Rome to be again crucified.’
And Peter says to Him ‘Lord, wilt Thou again be crucified?’
And the Lord said to him ‘Even so, I will again be crucified.’
Peter said to Him ‘Lord, I will return and will follow Thee.’
And with these words the Lord ascended into Heaven . . . And Peter, afterwards coming to himself, understood that it was of his own passion that it had been spoken, because that in it the Lord would suffer. The Apostle then returned with joy to meet the death which the Lord had signified that he should die.
The joy of the cross, where we all must go, is before us. After that brief moment of pain is paradise! Where have I been? Almost certainly no place good. Where am I going? To death.
But death is a door, a crossing over, to eternity! If I die well, if Christ is in me, then I can face it, as Peter did, with great joy.
I must ask myself Socrates’ hard questions today. The paths of the dialectic lead to Christ.
