This is the third in a series of posts on family (and Sierra Nevada beers.) The rest of the posts can be found here.
Oedipus’s family was dysfunctional, to say the least. Oedipus’s parents tried to kill him as an infant. When he had grown to be a man, Oedipus killed his father (although unaware of their relationship) and married his mother (likewise unknowingly.) His sons/brothers waged war against each other, vying for their father/brother’s throne. They ultimately killed each other on the field of battle. Oedipus’s uncle/brother-in-law Creon eventually sentenced Oedipus’s daughter/sister Antigone (whose fiancé happened to be her cousin, Creon’s son) to death for performing burial rites for one of her slain brothers. Not a great family situation all around.
Despite this profoundly messed up home life, Antigone somehow learned to put family first. After Oedipus blinded himself, she personally led and waited on him throughout his exile. When her brothers quarreled between themselves over the throne, Antigone pleaded with Polynices to make peace with Eteocles. And, when the corpse of Polynices lay in the open as a feast for birds and wild dogs, Antigone she defied the law to give him a proper burial.
In the face of misfortune, war, and an unjust government, Antigone steadfastly maintained her familial allegiance, even in a family most notable its members’ crimes against each other. So even if your family is pretty awful, Antigone can be a role model.
Beer of the week: Sierraveza – This “easy-drinking lager” is in the style of a Mexican cerveza. It is quite carbonated, and pours clear gold with a bright, white head. The aroma is led by pale malts and has a slightly floral note. The beer is crisp, with just enough floral hops to leave a lingering bitterness. “Easy-drinking” indeed.
Reading of the week: Phoenissae by Seneca the Younger – Although Seneca is better known for his letters and works on stoic philosophy, he also wrote several tragedies. This partial retelling of the Oedipus myth begins with an eloquent speech by Antigone about her dedication to her father. The speech prompts Oedipus to ask how a sinner such as himself could have fathered such a dutiful daughter.
Question for the week: Do we, like the Greeks, consider patricide–and, consequently other crimes against family–to be worse than similar crimes against non-family members? Why or why not?
Somebody recently told me that this blog is too esoteric. This post is probably the extreme limit in that respect. But this week’s reading and beer were specially requested by Micah after he made a generous contribution toward the BeerAndTrembling education fund, so if you don’t like it, take it up with him. EDIT: Now that the campaign is no longer live, I have removed the links. I still encourage readers to participate by reaching out in the comments or through the “Make a Recommendation” page.
[The following excerpt was lately discovered in the archives of the United States Classics Academy (USCA). It is evidently post-Homeric in origin, but there is no consensus as to its ultimate origin.]
Sing in me, O Muse, of the triple peals of thunder that echoed through Ilium as cunning Ulysses and Teukros, son of Telamon, breached the gates of Troy.
One night, seven years into the Daanan’s siege, Ulysses devised a plan for a two-man raid with stealthy Teukros, to the very heart of the walled city, to leave their marks on the castle’s central column. To do so, the two Argives would need to pass through several gates, and evade watchmen of uncommon military prowess.
But Artemis, goddess of the hunt, was displeased with Teukros. She had blessed many and more of his arrows on hunts beyond number, but before this daring raid, he had made her no offering. Therefore, she shrouded the moon with clouds and obscured the ground with fog, so that Teukros and cunning Ulysses could not tell which of Ilium’s twelve gates they approached, whether it was one of the six front gates or the six back.
[There is a large lacuna in the text at this point. It appears from later summaries that Ulysses had the better of the early exchanges with the Trojan guards, eventually setting up Teukros for an attack on the final gates. However, a remarkably accurate spear throw by Rhesus of Thrace scattered the Greeks. Rhesus then ran the Greeks all around the city before finally returning to a strategic defensive position.]
As was the old standard positioning in those days, godlike Lycophontes and Rhesus stood together near the third back gate, in the southeast corner of the city. Teukros, drew his mighty bow and reignited the stalled raid with an incredible, partly-obstructed shot at Rhesus. The shaft glanced harmlessly off of his shining armor, but accomplished its goal of unsettling the defenders.
[Another lengthy lacuna during which Teukros evidently led the attack, with the skirmish again circling most of the way around Troy.]
Teukros urged cunning Ulysses through the fourth back gate, and crossed through himself. As if to show his approval of the heroes’ bold feat, Zeus loosed a tremendous peal of thunder.
Teukros rushed mighty Ulysses onward, and through the penultimate gate before the castle’s central column. Rhesus, stationed by the gate, provided little obstacle for the Argive raiders. Teukros struck him a blow more deft than powerful, and sent him reeling. Teukros, with bow drawn to prevent any attacks from the rear, backed through the gate as Zeus again made the very ground quake with a mighty peal of thunder.
Within the city Rhesus, great Eioneus’ son, and godlike Lycophontes were divided. Brave Lycophontes was now the only one standing between the Argives and their objective, but was utterly incapable of stoping the Greeks as they rushed toward the last gate before the center of the castle. Out of deference for his elder, Teukros gave way for Ulysses to cross the final threshold first, and as he followed, a third and far the loudest peal of thunder enveloped the night.
Ulysses struck the castle’s central column with his sword to make his mark on the very heart of Troy. Teukros, to show his skill a final time, drew his bow again and loosed a shaft at the column. So straight was his shot that the arrowhead buried itself in a masonry joint and the feathered shaft stuck out from the column for all to see.
As victors, though victors only of a small game in the scheme of the monumental war, Ulysses and Teukros returned to their black-prowed ships for a well-earned bowl of wine. While they were out raiding, however, Telemonian Ajax had consumed all of their wine. Ulysses and Teukros would have to settle for beer.
Beer of the week: Red Stripe – When I drank this Jamaican lager regularly, the bottles were twelve ounces and had painted labels. Now the bottles are 11.2 ounces and the labels are plastic stickers. In those days, I also thought the beer was better. It is a very pale and clear lager, with an aroma primarily of adjunct grains. The flavor follows: adjunct grains with little hops to speak of, and a slightly sticky finish. Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.
Reading of the week: Expert Croquet Tactics by Keith F. Wylie, Article 2. The First Break – In this book, probably the most authoritative text on croquet tactics ever written, Wylie “leave[s] behind the world of everyday croquet, with its missed roquets and blobbed hoops” to explore what the very best croquet players should do under ideal conditions. This particular section may explain some of what happened during the lacunae in the story above.
Question for the week: What was the final score in the game of Ulysses and Teukros v. Rhesus and Lycophontes?
This is the forty-fifth in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume XLV: Sacred Writings 2
It is the time of the year when we celebrate the birth of a god in human form who would later overcome death. The god-man’s was a virgin birth, foretold by angels and prophets. The birth occurred en route to his earthly parent’s familial home. I refer, of course, to the birth of Siddhartha Gautama, Buddha. Or Jesus Christ. Or both.
Aside from the similarities alluded to above, there is a great deal in common between Christianity and Buddhism. But is that because they share a common source, one religion influenced the other, or mere coincidence?
One of the core beliefs of the Baha’i faith is that all of the world’s major religions, including Christianity and Buddhism, were divinely inspired for their specific places and times. Consequently, the similarities between these religions are no mere coincidence. Each religion is revealed and shares in the universal and essential points. Those issues upon which the religions differ are simply minor details to adapt the one true religion to various times and places.
The Baha’i point of view, of course, has never amounted to a majority, let alone a consensus. Generally, it appears that similarities between Christianity and Buddhism are mere coincidences for the most part, and generally more superficial than they may seem. In fact, the term “parallelomania” was coined specifically to give a name to authors taking such apparent similarities between religions too far.
Still, it is certainly worth considering what leads disparate people to arrive at similar religious tenants. “In their later developments Buddhist and Christian ceremonies show an extraordinary resemblance due in my opinion chiefly to convergence,” wrote Sir Charles Eliot, a British diplomat to the Far East. (Not to be confused with Dr. Charles Eliot, president of Harvard and editor of the Harvard Classics.) “[T]hough I do not entirely exclude mutual influence.”
Perhaps, rather than some direct or indirect interaction between Christians and Buddhists, that “mutual influence” is some deeply embedded aspect of the human psyche. Something about Christmas (and Buddha’s Birthday, and countless other religious beliefs and observances) strikes a chord within us all.
Beer of the week: Chang Classic – Aside from China, Thailand has the largest Buddhist population in the world. This Thai lager has some nice herbal hops in the aroma. It pours a clear, pale gold, with lots of big bubbles that fade fast. The flavor is a bit sweet, dominated by adjunct grain. It could do with a bit more hops, but it is a light and refreshing beer.
Reading of the week: The Birth of Buddha – This story is translated from the Jātaka tales. These stories describe some of Buddha’s many births, in both human and animal form.
Question for the week: Is there some important aspect shared by all religion?
This is the forty-third in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume XLIII: American Historical Documents
As a member of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court, Michael Angelo Musmanno set a record for most dissenting opinions filed by a justice. In fact, it only took him a few years to write more dissenting opinions than all of the other justices on the court had collectively written in the previous 50 years.
Musmanno was, in a word, quarrelsome. He was extremely vocal about his opinions of Nazis, Communists, jazz music, and Henry Miller. But what really fired him up was Vikings. He hated Vikings. According to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, “nothing aroused his volatile Italian temper so much as any claim that Christopher Columbus did not discover America.”
To refute arguments that Icelanders, rather than Columbus, reached North America first, Musmanno wrote a book called Columbus Was First. Of course, we now know that he was wrong. Vikings certainly reached North America around 500 years before Columbus sailed the ocean blue. In 1960, ruins of a Norse settlement were discovered at L’Anse aux Meadows in Newfoundland, Canada, confirming Mussmano’s secret fear.
But why was Musmanno so certain about something beyond his ken? At least partially, it was racial pride. Musmanno was deeply invested in Italian-American advancement. If it turned out that the Italian hero Columbus was a half-millennium late to the party, that would be bad for the cause. But Musmanno probably fought so hard on the side of error mostly because he was a quarrelsome jerk who wanted to impose his own opinion on everyone and everything.
As it turns out, the Vikings who beat Columbus to the punch were, themselves, racist and belligerent. According to the Saga of the Greenlanders, the first encounter between the Vikings and Native Americans (whom the Vikings called “Skrellings”) did not go well. The Norsemen killed eight of the first nine natives they encountered. Ultimately the norse settlement of North America failed because of violent conflicts with the natives and because of the Vikings’ inability to live peacefully even among themselves. Maybe Musmanno would have found kindred spirits in the ancient Viking settlers, had he only given them a chance.
Beer of the week: Zhygulivske Lager – This beer from Ukraine’s Obolon Brewery is named for the beer of the Soviet Union. On the label appears to be a Viking longship (for some reason.) Zhygulivske is an amber-colored lager. The aroma is faint, but pleasant and malty. The flavor follows the smell. I can’t pronounce it, but I sure can drink it.
Reading of the week: Saga of the Greenlanders – The Harvard Classics appears to incorrectly identify this text as part of the Saga of Eric the Red. Although both sagas tell of the discovery of Vinland, they are distinct texts with some key differences.
Question for the week: Does the Viking “discovery” of North America really diminish thr achievements of Columbus?
This is the fourteenth in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume XIV: Æneid
DISCLAIMER: This blog post treats Greek and Roman mythology as interchangeable. There are, of course, reasons to differentiate between the two traditions. However, at least part of Virgil’s project was to co-opt Greek mythology for Roman purposes. So for the present blog post there is no need to differentiate between the Roman gods of his Æneid and the Greek gods of Homer.
Mothers are remarkable beings. Not least because even those who regard motherhood as primary to their identity are never merely mothers. Mothering requires a wide range of skills and tasks. Keeping a child alive (to say nothing of keeping it happy, healthy, well-fed, safe, etc.) is a tremendous feat which deserves special recognition.
The idea of mothers as multi-taskers is nothing new. Consider the goddess Venus. Venus is primarily thought of as a lover. But, like any mother who’s ever kissed a boo-boo, comforted a crying babe, or taken marriage vows, Venus is also a healer, a nurturer, and a wife. (And, like every mortal wife, she has not always been a perfect helpmate. But that is another post for another time.)
The Romans regarded the goddess as Venus Genetrix, “Venus the Mother.” Her son was the Trojan hero Aeneas. Aeneas escaped the fall of Ilium and led the remnants of his people to Italy. When the Trojans established themselves in that new land, the groundwork was laid for the eventual rise of Rome.
This great project, however, would not have succeeded without the love and attention of Aeneas’ mother. In his final battle against the native Italians, Aeneas is badly wounded. Although he has an arrowhead lodged deep in his flesh, Venus will not let his injury prevent him from fulfilling his destiny:
“But now the goddess mother, mov’d with grief,
And pierc’d with pity, hastens her relief.”
She goes to work healing him with herbal medicine and divine skill.
“Stanch’d is the blood, and in the bottom stands:
The steel, but scarcely touch’d with tender hands,
Moves up, and follows of its own accord,
And health and vigor are at once restor’d.”
Aeneas’ recovery allows him to return to the fray, slay the Italian foe, and establish the colony that is to become Rome.
And this is not the first time that Venus came to the aid of her beloved son. During the battle for Troy, Aeneas was nearly killed by Diomedes, son of Tydeus. Again the goddess came to his rescue.
“Aeneas sprang from his chariot armed with shield and spear, fearing lest the Achaeans should carry off the body. He bestrode it as a lion in the pride of strength, with shield and on spear before him and a cry of battle on his lips resolute to kill the first that should dare face him. But the son of Tydeus caught up a mighty stone, so huge and great that as men now are it would take two to lift it; nevertheless he bore it aloft with ease unaided, and with this he struck Aeneas on the groin where the hip turns in the joint that is called the “cup-bone.” The stone crushed this joint, and broke both the sinews, while its jagged edges tore away all the flesh. The hero fell on his knees, and propped himself with his hand resting on the ground till the darkness of night fell upon his eyes. And now Aeneas, king of men, would have perished then and there, had not his mother, Jove’s daughter Venus, who had conceived him by Anchises when he was herding cattle, been quick to mark, and thrown her two white arms about the body of her dear son. She protected him by covering him with a fold of her own fair garment, lest some Danaan should drive a spear into his breast and kill him.”
Although Venus is not a warrior like Minerva or Mars, she descended to the field of battle and was even wounded by Diomedes for the sake of her child. So great is the goddess’s love for her son. And to whom did Venus turn to heal her own wound? Her mother, of course.
“Venus flung herself on to the lap of her mother Dione, who threw her arms about her and caressed her.”
So cheers to the comforters, healers, lovers, and heroes whom we call “mother” for short.
Beer of the week: Two Hats Pineapple – To trot out a tired metaphor, mothers wear many hats. And so, this reading is paired with the new Two Hats beer. This is advertised as a “crisp light beer with natural pineapple flavor.” The marketing for Two Hats is aimed at young drinkers. The tag-line is “Good, cheap beer. Wait, what?” Advertising copy also includes “Quit wine-ing!” and “Beer for people who are ‘meh’ about beer.” Clearly, they are trying to recapture early twenty-somethings who have turned to wine and spirits over beer. And, although the name “Miller” does not appear on the can, this is a product of the MillerCoors family, brewed by the Plank Road Brewery division of Miller.
As much as I hate the advertising and transparent attempt to appeal to “millennials,” I think it is actually a decent alternative to flavored seltzer. Two Hats is very, very pale in color and smells of pineapple. The amount of pineapple flavor is actually about right, but the beer itself is too light. This tastes more like a flavored seltzer than a beer. There is a bit of malt in the finish, but not quite enough to balance out the pineapple. Basically, this comes across as an alcoholic La Croix, which is fine if you want alcoholic flavored seltzer rather than a beer.
Reading of the week: The Æneid by Virgil – At the end of this excerpt, Aeneas has a moment with his own son Ascanius. “Thou, when thy riper years shall send thee forth / To toils of war, be mindful of my worth;” / he tells him, “Assert thy birthright, and in arms be known, / For Hector’s nephew, and Æneas’ son.” Aeneas doesn’t bother to mention Ascanius’ mother or grandmother. Typical.
Question for the week: What have you done for your mother lately?
This is the eighth in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume VIII: Nine Greek Dramas
Prometheus, the light-bearer, is known most for giving humanity the gift of fire. But in Æschylus’ version of the myth in Prometheus Bound, he taught a great many arts to man, including: brickwork and carpentry; astronomy; agriculture; calculation and writing; the domestication of animals; sailing; medicine; augury; and metallurgy.
What stands out the most about such an important catalogue of arts is the fact that all of these skills predate not only the play, but recorded history itself. As John Meynard Keynes put in his essay Economic Possibilities for our Grandchildren:
“Almost everything which really matters and which the world possessed at the commencement of the modern age was already known to man at the dawn of history. Language, fire, the same domestic animals which we have to-day, wheat, barley, the vine and the olive, the plough, the wheel, the oar, the sail, leather, linen and cloth, bricks and pots, gold and silver, copper, tin, and lead -and iron was added to the list before 1000 B.C.- banking, statecraft, mathematics, astronomy, and religion. There is no record of when we first possessed these things.”
We may add to that list, of course, the brewing of beer. Indeed, some think that the discovery (or invention) of beer, like the other innovations listed above, was instrumental in the in the formation of civilization. Æschylus’ fire-bearer might just as well have been a Libation Bearer.
Beer of the week: Voodoo Ranger 8 Hop Pale Ale – New Belgium brews a number of varieties of its Voodoo Ranger line. The standard IPA was the beer of the week a fortnight ago. This version is slightly cloudy, with a nice hoppy aroma. The smell has notes of pineapple and apple. The 8 Hop Pale Ale is a nice beer, but there is something in the aftertaste that I cannot place and that I don’t care for. I like the other Voodoo Ranger varieties better.
Reading of the week: Prometheus Bound by Æschylus, Lines 435-567 – This excerpt of the play really does portray Prometheus as the greatest patron of humanity. “All arts, for mortals’ use, Prometheus gave.”
Question for the week: Is Keynes correct in his assertion that no innovation “that really matters” was discovered or invented “in the four thousand years which ended (say) in A. D. 1700”?
I have been to Bongeunsa Buddhist temple in Seoul, Korea. I’ve toured the Spanish Synagogue in Prague, Czech Republic. I have visited two of the world’s nine Bahá’í Houses of Worship (in Ingleside, Australia and Willamette, Illinois.) I have been to the Great Mosque of Xian, China and the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, Turkey. I have toured St. Peter’s Basilica, the Sistine Chapel, and several other churches throughout Italy and Europe. All these and a great many more religious sites I have visited as a tourist rather than as a pilgrim.
For a non-pilgrim, sites of religious or spiritual significance pose a delicate dilemma: how can a tourist take in a culturally valuable experience without degrading another’s holy place?
To some extent, this problem is solved by those in control of the venues. In Moulay Idriss, Morocco, all non-believers are denied access to the mosque and mausoleum of Idris I. In Rome, a small fee buys admission to the Capuchin crypts beneath the church of Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini, without any question of faith. At various churches throughout the world, visitors are invited in, but photography is forbidden.
But no matter where, nor what creed is dominant, touring a religious site is always a peculiar event. The art, the architecture, and the history are often of extreme interest to people of all faiths. How does one balance basic human curiosity with the need to show adequate reverence?
In my experience, the best course is to take in all religious sites, regardless of denomination, with a sense of quiet awe and respect. It matters little whether the religion of the site is the same as that of the tourist. What matters is that the religious site is a monument to the faith of those who built and maintain it. Even those who hold other beliefs (or, indeed, no religious beliefs at all,) should be able to appreciate that the desire to create such a sacred space comes from an important and fundamental part of human nature.
Beer of the week: Moat Mountain Czech Pilsner – This New Hampshire take on the classic Czech pilsner pours a nice, clear gold. It has a bit of malt aroma. But Moat’s Czech Pilsner does not have quite enough hops for my taste, either in the aroma or flavor. This is a good beer, but it comes up short of the best Czech beers.
Reading of the week: The Spirit of Russia by Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk – Whose writings could be a more appropriate paring for a Czech pilsner than those of Masaryk? He was the first president of the independent state of Czechoslovakia, and a life-long advocate for a free Czech and Slovak people. This excerpt from his book on the peculiar culture of Russia includes an anecdote about a visit he made to a remote Russian monastery, not as a pilgrim, but as a “mere sightseer!”
Question for the week: Can a non-believer truly appreciate the value of a religious site?
A popular Thanksgiving tradition is to go around the table, listing the things for which those present are thankful. It can be a very powerful exercise to actually compose such a list. Lists create a sense of scale and the cumulative effect of each item listed tends to compound the others.
Take, for example, the catalog of ships in The Iliad. Several pages of that text are dedicated to listing all of the ships, along with the numbers of their fighting men, that came to the Trojan shores. The seemingly ceaseless recital of the Greeks emphasizes the scale of the conflict. During the battles, the narrative follows individuals as they engage in one-on-one combat. And this is why the catalogue of ships is so important. Without that list to establish the scale of the armies, one could be mislead into thinking of the war as a series of encounters between a handful of individuals rather than between mighty hosts. The knowledge that the Greek and Trojan armies are quite large gives a sense of scale to the dramatic face-offs between the individual heroes.
So this Thanksgiving, give some thought to the vast number of the world’s blessings and how that great list gives context to each individual blessing.
Beer of the week: Saranac Pale Ale – Saranac, New York is about 300 miles from the site of the fabled first Thanksgiving. In American terms, that’s rather close enough to count as local. This beer has a solid malt body with just a bit of hops bitterness to back it up. Saranac Pale Ale makes for a really good beer for a casual drink.
Reading for the week: The Fourth Book by François Rabelais, Chapter 4.LIX – Some would argue that there is virtually no way to stay awake through the entire catalogue of ships, especially in the drowsy afterglow a large meal. This list is probably more appropriate for Thanksgiving. Rabelais was a master of writing lists, and this particular excerpt is the menu of the Gastrolaters, a people whose god is the stomach and whose religion is eating.
Question for the holiday: In certain cases, shorter lists arguably indicate greater importance. A short list of experts in a field may indicate a higher level of expertise. A short list of friends may indicate more intense or close friendship than a longer list. Are there certain sorts of blessings for which this is also true?
This is the thirteenth in a series on Franklin’s moral improvement plan, the rest of the posts are available here.
CHASTITY: Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dulness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another’s peace or reputation.
Like Temperance, Frugality, and Silence, Franklin’s version of Chastity could easily be viewed as a sub-virtue of moderation. He does not advocate sexual abstinence any more than he advocates absolute silence, parsimony, or teetotaling. Rather, Franklin’s advice is to limit sexual exertion to a healthy level. Sex is not bad; over-indulgence is bad, particularly if it leads to a damaged reputation.
This view of chastity and eros would have served Hippolytus well. The mythical Hippolytus worshipped Artemis, the chaste goddess of the hunt, to the exclusion of Aphrodite, the goddess of love. In Euripides’ version of the story, Hippolytus comes on the scene with a an offering for Artemis: a “woven wreath, culled from a virgin meadow, where nor shepherd dares to herd his flock nor ever scythe hath mown, but o’er the mead unshorn the bee doth wing its way in spring; and with the dew from rivers drawn purity that garden tends.” And he follows this carefully cultivated sacrifice with a total rebuff of Aphrodite. “No god, whose worship craves the night,” he says, “hath charms for me.”
Hippolytus’ sage attendant understands the error of this attitude, and advises him to maintain at least “courteous affability” with all of the gods. Although he does not say so in so many words, this is because the gods of the Greek pantheon represent the many facets of humanity. It is fine, even proper, to have a favored god as a patron, but all of the gods must have their due. To deny any of the various gods entirely is to deny an entire aspect of human nature. And that is as true of Aphrodite as it is of the rest.
Beer of the week: Indio – When it comes to Mexican beers, darker is almost always better. This Mexican dark lager pours with big, sticky bubbles. The aroma is not much different than a Corona. The flavor is profile includes some rice and a slight hint of caramel that lingers. And, although it has more flavor than most pale lagers from south of the boarder, it is just about as refreshing.
Reading of the week: Hippolytus by Euripides – The play begins with Aphrodite spelling out exactly what her plan is to avenge herself upon Hippolytus. She is intent upon “bring to ruin all who vaunt themselves at” her.
Question for the week: Is rage particularly tied to love in a special way? Could Hephaestus, god of craftsmen, or Athena, goddess of wisdom, be as spiteful as Aphrodite?
This is the third in a series on Franklin’s moral improvement plan, the rest of the posts are available here.
SILENCE: Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation.
Julian I was bent on restoring the Roman Empire to it’s past glory. He was known later as Julian the Apostate, because he worshiped the old gods of Rome rather than the Christian God adopted by his grandfather Constantine. He was also a notable man of letters.
Among his extant writings is a satire entitled The Caesars. In it, a feast is held by the gods and all of the Roman emperors are invited. (Not all, however make it into the party. Some of the cruel or incompetent Caesars are turned away at the door, or even condemned to Tartarus.) Once the party is assembled, the gods have a contest to decide which emperor is the greatest.
Julius, Augustus, Trajan, Constantine, and Alexander the Great (invited especially by Hercules) all recount their military exploits, and argue about why their victories were more impressive than those of the others. Marcus Aurelius, however, “turned to Zeus and the other gods and said, ‘It seems to me, O Zeus and ye other gods, that I have no need to make a speech or compete. If you did not know all that concerns me it would indeed be fitting for me to inform you. But since you know it and nothing at all is hidden from you, do you of your own accord assign me such honour as I deserve.’ Thus Marcus showed that admirable as he was in other respects he was wise also beyond the rest, because he knew ‘When it is time to speak and when to be silent.'”
Beer of the week: Lomska Dark Lager – The lands that are now Bulgaria, of course, would have been ruled by Alexander the Great and later by the Romans. This Bulgarian lager is not especially good. It foams like a soda pop when poured, with big sticky bubbles. However, the head had faded entirely before I could snap a photo. By the first sip, the brew was all but flat. The aroma has some of the burnt, savory smell of grilled mushrooms. The flavor is a bit on the sweet side, with very little bitterness to help balance it out. Overall, I am not impressed.
Reading for the week: The Caesars by Julian I – The contest continues on for some time after this excerpt. Unsurprisingly, Marcus wins the day and Constantine gets punished for following Jesus rather than the gods of Rome.
Question for the week: Why is it so hard to hold one’s tongue on Facebook (and other online fora)?