©Jason I. Stutz 2019
I am plenty intuitive, but the intellect of Socrates supersedes me. Praise God, oh, give me the lightness and agility of mind and heart to step forth upon this mountain of light.
“The Socratic method, also known as maieutics, method of elenchus, elenctic method, or Socratic debate, is a form of cooperative argumentative dialogue between individuals, based on asking and answering questions to stimulate critical thinking and to draw out ideas and underlying presuppositions.” -Wikipedia
Things that Matter: A Dialogue of Plato
I.
The Oracle gave her words as the querent listened: it is Socrates who is the wisest man on Earth- near to us, in Athens, even. “How fortunate and cursed is our land to have such a one as him as progeny of our people.”
The gentle querent thanked her, even as her eyes rolled northward into her head and she remained in trance for considerable time. There were no more forthcoming messages.
“It is Socrates,” he said, reflecting on the many stories of him he had heard in his youth. He is going to find him and relay what the Oracle said as her answer.
II.
Socrates laughed. The man had found him at his residence and he came to open the door himself, curious at who it is calling upon him so early in the day. And he laughed. The man was disarmed. He had held this message from the Oracle as in his hand like a rare bird and gave it to Socrates, who laughed. But Socrates was never merely amused; always with him, something grew from everything. He thought a second, his voice hummed, echoing the workings of his mind, as light moved his mind like a water wheel that itself was made of light. He laughed. And he became very, very curious.
“Young man, entreat with me to the Academy. Surely that great teacher of virtue, Euthyphro, is wiser than me.” And they walked along the fine, dirt streets toward that glorious institution, saying hello to many of Socrates’ friends, and a few of his own, along the way.
“What’s the word, Socrates?” asked a young student.
“Oh, I do not know of one aside from that one born within every man.”
“Oh…” said the asker, crumpled into himself, suddenly. “Really?” The young student walked on, his mind completely changed. No one saw him, again, for several weeks- not his teachers at the Academy, not his parents, not even his friends.
Socrates and the young man walked onward. Onward was the basic direction of Socrates. They approached the white, marble steps of that great, wide staircase entering upward into that arena of weighty thoughts. He held his finger high toward heaven and was about to speak, but his tongue held him to his silence, indicating to him that there is more than he already knows before he will be able to say.
“Perhaps the oracle suggests I am wise because I do not believe I have the truth already in my grasp, and that a line of inquiry that feeds my curiosity through rational dialogue will bring me further than the small bits of God’s Truth I already received. Come, young man- I will feed my now ravenous curiosity in dialogue with learned men.”
They ascended the hallowed staircase to that heaven of weighty thought, the grounds upon which all power is fed to Athens. Socrates led the young man to the courtyard where Euthyphro could always be found. First, several servants tidied up the arena where they sat, marble benches and pillars upon which a book may rest. Vases of water for men to drink when they are thirsty from so much talk, and their throats are dried from the air pressing through so forcefully.
“Goodness to this day, Abemol,” Socrates greeted the servant who he recognized as the first caretaker of Euthyphro and dearest confident of his dreams. “May I trouble Euthyphro?”
“Goodness, fine Socrates, to this day,” and he offered Socrates his choice of seat while he fetched Euthyphro from the small garden wherein he wrote the notes for his next day’s class.
III.
Oh, Socrates, dearest friend of my mind and spirited heart, lend forth your hand to entreat me to dialogue with you as the central figure and myself as the Platonic fly on the wall.
“Come, Jason, enter the circle and speak with the rest. It is no good to hold back your voice, but invite us to be changed, also, by your thoughts,” sayeth Socrates. “All with unique perspective shall find appreciation, here, even as we rise up toward the heights of things true always in all people.”
“Aye, Socrates, let it be so. For it will be said for millennia hence that he who puts himself as 4th in heaven shall find salvation.”
“It is agreed,” he said, as Euthyphro, Plato, and Aristotle all sat amongst us, nodding, also, in agreement. “Only, let me ask the question that we all shall answer- I assure you you will be satisfied by the results.”
Aye, Socrates, let none other than you, now, ask the question for us to answer.
“It is done,” he said, and continued thus: “Of all the things that matter most to a man, what is the pinnacle? This young man (indicating me with a generous hand), has inquired of the Oracle at Delphi as to who the wisest man in the world might be, and the Oracle gave forth to him an answer. Would you like to hear the Oracle’s choice?”
Euthyphro moved uncomfortably in his seat, obviously anguishing in a small part of his loins.
Socrates invited me to tell, to which I responded, “The Oracle sayeth that Socrates is the wisest man on Earth.” Socrates, again, laughed, for he knew that he knew nothing.
Upon this hearing, Euthyphro anguished even more noticeably in his seat, and his face took on a dour and dark expression. Plato and Aristotle acknowledged each other’s faces, nodding affirmation of this fact both of them already knew.
Euthyphro furthered sarcastically, “Is there anything else the Oracle might wish you to know about the wisest man on Earth?” indicating the now mirthful Socrates with his extended hand.
“Only that we are blessed and cursed to have him as Athen’s son.”
Euthyphro’s countenance became mixed, reflecting the meaning of both words, “blessed,” and “cursed.” Aristotle and Plato both appeared troubled by this addendum of the Oracle’s prophecy.
Euthyphro, unable to bear this information any longer in silence, burst open and challenged Socrates to say his own thought about the prophecy. Socrates aimed his forehead at the feet of all us present there and humbly laughed.
“It is why I have come today, in hopes you will show me the Oracle’s error,” sayeth Socrates in a quiet voice that yet could be heard down every road for stadions, echoing in every Athenian’s heart.
Euthyphro’s mind froze. Does Socrates believe Euthyphro to be wiser than himself? ‘What honor,’ he thought, and yet he felt in himself a terror, as though being lead down a dark path by a master trickster. “I… I…” sayeth Euthyphro.
Socrates quickly rescued him from obliteration by inviting him into “a formal dialogue, Euthyphro, whereby we might lay our hearts to inquiry, in hope that, together, we may discover the error of the Oracle’s prophecy.”
Euthyphro felt only moderately relieved- at least he no longer felt pressured to prove his wisdom at once. ‘Let me at least warm up to it, so that my wisdom can be revealed through natural discourse,’ he said in his heart to himself. ‘I am a dialectician, after all, and not so much a rhetorician.’
Socrates, nodding with a wry smile upon his face, seemed to hear the thought of Euthyphro’s heart.
“How might we determine the wiser man if we are dumb to the meaning of the word to begin with?” offered young Aristotle.
All present agreed. Aristotle then turned to me and asked me what it was that I meant by my inquiry, for surely that produced an effect upon the Oracle’s response.
I cleared my throat and thought for a space of time. Surely I meant something specific by my word, “wisest,”- or maybe I was cloaked by my own imagination of what is important to possess in oneself. I disclosed my inner concern to that peerless and impeccable audience- those five great men (including Abemol)- before who my voice felt like dust, yet they lifted my vibrations in their hearts and gave me life- even Euthyphro, in his way. Perhaps he was relieved to be not the most ignorant man in our circle, and was glad to be of service to me at that time.
Socrates, however, was very pleased with my concern, and knew it to be the direction upon which the whole of our dialogue could form. My heart swelled by his sincerity and felt strong by his affirmation. “Very, very good,” he smiled. “For how can we understand what wisdom is and who possesses it- and to what degree (he eyed Euthyphro)- if we cannot first understand what it is a wise man is and knows?” And thus, he laid his trap, which all of us haplessly and hopefully, fell into.
“Certainly,” injected Aristotle. “We must learn what a man who possesses wisdom knows, how he knows it, and who taught it to him.”
Plato, in barely more than a whisper, as though insisting upon a secret that he felt could not be withheld if our dialogue were to progress, offered, “…and what a wise man does.”
“…and why he does it!” I insisted, emboldened.
Socrates also offered a deeper thought, “If a man is wise, can he be said to know all things? Or, merely more things than other men?” smiling ruefully.
“Yes,” said Euthyphro. “He can be said thus.”
“But surely there has never been a man to know all things,” said Socrates, allowing everyone present to run through their mental images of all the most knowledgeable men of history and present day. “So does this mean anyone can be said to be the least bit wise?”
“There was Arodiconimel, the great stone mason, who knew the breadth and depth of everything on earth it seemed.”
“But did he know the sea as well as he knew of things on dry land?” asked Socrates.
“He was said to be not ignorant of the sea,” defended Euthyphro proudly.
“But was his knowledge of the sea as great as, say, the great naval captain, Samarionide?”
“Surely, Samarionide’s knowledge of the sea far supercedes anyone alive or dead, or so it is said,” injected Aristotle.
“Then, perhaps either Arodiconimel is not the most knowledgeable man we can call to mind, or some other requirement beyond knowledge itself is needed to determine if a man possesses great wisdom,” guided Socrates, us following him into the net of the unknown. We, as a group, under the smiling gaze of Socrates, were all compelled to drop the machinations of each our minds to the dust at our feet, as though releasing from our grips useless tools we could never in good conscience use again. Even Euthyphro reluctantly, and with great irritation, let rest his mind and something like a portal opened in him when he did- a light burst out freed from its prison, and all humble hearts acknowledged it. Athens then shifted upon her axis, and the future of Socrates’ life and death began to find its road. Unknowing, we all five turned our naked faces toward him, Athen’s wisest son, and I felt a tear of grief seize in my heart- and a pride like I have known for no other man. And though I was cursed and blessed by him but once as his lover, I loved him more than any woman or any man before or since.
A spirit came upon us, a ghost reflecting thoughts we could not grasp, imbuing us with feelings we had no experience upon which to feel them. When the ghost had passed, we came to rest again on the plane of our inquiry, but we were entirely changed with new meaning.
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