Paul and the Giants of Philosophy

Reading the Apostle in Greco-Roman Context

Joseph R. Dodson, David E. Briones, Joseph R. Dodson, David E. Briones

• Éditeur: IVP Academic
• Année: 2019
• ISBN:
  9780830873661
• Sujet: Theology & Religion
• Sous-sujet: Biblical Studies

Biblical Foundations Award FinalistWhat forces shaped the intellectual world of the apostle Paul? How familiar was he with the great philosophers of his age, and to what extent was he influenced by them? When he quoted Greco-Roman sources, what was his aim?Pauline scholars wrestle with such questions in journal articles and technical monographs, but now Paul and the Giants of Philosophy brings the conversation into the college classroom and the church. Each essay addresses Paul's interaction with Greco-Roman philosophical thinking on a particular topic, such as faith, slavery, gift-giving, and the afterlife. And each chapter includes discussion questions and reading lists to help readers engage the material further. Dodson and Briones have gathered contributors with diverse views from various traditions who are united in the desire to make Paul's engagement with ancient philosophy accessible to many readers.

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“WHAT DOES NOT KILL ME
MAKES ME STRONGER”

PAUL AND EPICTETUS ON SUFFERING

DOROTHEA H. BERTSCHMANN

NOBODY LIKES SUFFERING. Hardship, illness, and loss are things we try our best to avoid, perhaps more so than ever in our developed Western societies, where a lot of energy is invested in the “pursuit of happiness.” But suffering will not go away. Are there ways to get at least something good out of it? Can suffering really make us stronger or make us better, like a bitter but wholesome medicine? In this chapter, I will look into the answers the apostle Paul and the Stoic Epictetus give to the question, “Can suffering be an instrument to turn us into more ethical people?”

EPICTETUS

Epictetus and his teaching. What is it that Epictetus’s eager students wanted to learn? It was the pursuit of happiness, eudaimonia—except “happiness” is a very different concept for a Stoic than for us. It is best translated as “human flourishing,” or becoming the best possible version of yourself. And this, in turn, happens when human beings live fully in accordance with their nature. But what is human nature? What singles out humans is that we are rational beings; we are able to live in a certain distance from the things happening to us; we can evaluate them and form a judgment. This is exactly what fascinates Epictetus. According to him, human beings are gifted with the rational faculty of prohairesis, literally, the faculty of “pre-choice,” which can be translated as “volition.” This faculty of prohairesis is like one big inner evaluation center. While our senses flood us constantly with external impressions, it is the job of the “rational” me to evaluate them properly and form true judgments.

Though this sounds straightforward enough, it is actually a difficult task that demands our full attention and involves a life-long process of practicing. Let’s assume somebody offers you your dream job. Clearly this is a case for rejoicing. But no, says Epictetus, that amazing job is of no consequence for your happiness, rightly understood. There is no reason to decline the offer, but you should not rate it as something “good.” It has to be classified as “indifferent.” If you think that job is going to make you happy, you will strive and scramble for it and completely lose your inner peace. Worse, it is not in your power to get that job for sure. You are therefore placing your happiness in something outside of your control. This is the central problem.

Epictetus teaches that all external things, whether jobs, houses, wealth, fame, health, or relationships with our loved ones must be seen as “indifferent,” and we must neither desire nor avoid them, because they are outside our control. Moreover, they do not affect the “real me” in the least bit, neither by our gaining them nor by our losing them. They do nothing for our happiness. Even your own body belongs to the externals, over which you have no control. So what does contribute to one’s happiness? According to Epictetus, being a virtuous person equals being a happy person. This does not mean, however, that you feel good about yourself after carrying heavy shopping bags for an old lady.

When Epictetus speaks about ethical goodness he speaks about “virtues,” which in Greek simply means “excellence.” The person who realizes moral excellence, who is the best possible “me,” is truly flourishing and in that sense happy. At the most basic level, this means once again living in harmony with your human rational nature. It means that the prohairesis watches over the sensual impressions and the gut reactions that come with them: Somebody punched you? It does not matter. Somebody praised you? It does not matter. You won the lottery? Irrelevant. You lost your home? Of no consequence to your flourishing. In a further sense prohairesis means growing virtues, permanent ethical traits such as modesty, kindness, and patience. And this growth as a virtuous person is the only thing that matters. This is what nobody can take from you, no matter the circumstances. If you desire these good things, nobody can hinder you from achieving them. You are a completely free person. This is ultimately the payoff for the rational human being: you are in complete control over yourself. You live in harmony with nature and ultimately with God. You are calm, serene, fearless, and completely at peace.

Epictetus and suffering. It is one thing to discipline your gut reaction after somebody offers you a job or asks you to marry them. It is quite another thing to remain calm and peaceful when your child or loved one is dying or when your colleague is a bully. But this is exactly what a person should aspire for, according to Epictetus. It is important to see that joyful events have to be scrutinized and judged by the prohairesis just as much as painful ones. But obviously the proverbial “Stoical attitude” is more impressive in dire circumstances. What does Epictetus make of what we call “suffering”? Does he see it as an instrument or as some kind of bitter medicine to help us become a stronger, better person?

Epictetus was certainly familiar with all sorts of hardships. He experienced the powerlessness of slavery and even after gaining his freedom he lived a frugal life. He was familiar with the fickle nature of those in power, as he was himself banned from Rome by the emperor Domitian. He also often mentions the dangers of travelling. And he talks about the terrible punishments inflicted by those in authority as well as of the agony of a raging fever.

There is one figure of thinking, which we find repeatedly in Epictetus, when he deals with suffering. This is the metaphor of the athlete. Epictetus often compares life to an athletic struggle, an agōn. Hardship and sufferings play the part of a fellow wrestler:

It is difficulties that show what men are. Consequently, when a difficulty befalls, remember that God, like a physical trainer, has matched you with a rugged young man. What for? Someone says, So that you may become an Olympic victor; but that cannot be done without sweat. To my way of thinking no one has got a finer difficulty than the one which you have got, if only you are willing to make use of it as an athlete makes use of a young man to wrestle with. (Disc. 1.14.1-2)

In this struggle the athletes sweat, roll in sawdust, keep strict diets, and endure painful massages (Disc. 3.5.3-5; 3.22.52). The active and strained language is striking and seems to be at odds with the Stoical calm. It sounds very much like the maxim “no pain, no gain.”

But are sufferings needed to bring out the best in people? If we look closely again at the quote above, we see that this is not the case. The sweating, exercising, and fasting are not symbols for external hardships; they are metaphors for the life-long exercising of one’s rational judgment. It is not the painful loss or the fearful storm that brings out the best in me. Quite the contrary, they have the dangerous potential of bringing out the worst in me, making me react with spontaneous grief or fear, which betrays my true “rational me”! Hardships and awful circumstances have no meaning in and by themselves. But in order to get to this point, the aspiring Stoic has to exercise her prohairesis regularly. She must review and judge external impressions with the greatest discipline—a discipline not unlike that of an athlete who wants to win the Olympic Games. What is crucial is this mental exercise, which can feel like a strenuous effort and an arduous training. This mental struggle is, however, only one side of the coin, of which the other side is perfect calm:

The man who exercises himself against such external impressions is the true athlete in training. Hold, unhappy man; be not swept along with your impressions! Great is the struggle, divine the task; the prize is a kingdom, freedom, serenity, peace. (Disc. 2.18.27-28)

In a way, the aspiring philosopher has to come to the point of understanding that suffering is nothing at all. Epictetus very tellingly avoids the Greek word for suffering, paschein, which implies passivity and powerlessness. Instead, he chooses words that can be synonymous for hardship and circumstances. The true Stoic does not suffer; he does not let hardship get to him. What we call suffering is really just a particular circumstance, which can be used as an opportunity for growth, just as the athlete uses weights to grow muscles. But there is more to it than simply growing one’s “best me.”

Epictetus often speaks about the “great day,” when the athletes will finally run into the arena, cheered on by the crowds, and show what they are made of. The well-trained philosopher is also “showing off” his virtuous muscles for the benefit of others. He is a living evidence for the rationality of human beings, and he is a living witness for the goodness of God, who made people exactly that way (cf. Disc. 3.24.114).

For Epictetus, the ultimate contest is death, and the ultimate Stoic virtue is to be able to die without fear. His great champion in that respect is Socrates, who went to his death in complete calm. Exercising your rational judgments in daily hardship is to exercise for the time when you will be summoned to stay strong through dramatic hardship or death in order to witness to God. By learning how to live well you are practicing how to die well. Epictetus knows of no hope of an afterlife. But he insists that death is just as indifferent as getting or losing your dream job. It is, after all, just your body that is affected by it.

PAUL

Paul and suffering. Paul has a very different worldview from Epictetus. He does not preach the pursuit of happiness, understood as actualizing the true, rational “me,” but he preaches salvation for all who believe (Rom 1:16). This salvation rescues from sin and its consequences, and it establishes a person in a new context as being “in Christ.” In the power of the Spirit, such a person will not fail to flourish ethically as well. It has often been pointed out that Paul’s catalogues of good and bad attitudes can be easily compared to philosophical lists of virtues and vices (e.g., Gal 5:16-26). But how might Paul connect suffering and ethical goodness? In ...