''Go forth., O Bhikkhus, on your journey, for the welfare of the many, for the happiness of the many, out of compassion for the world, for the good, the benefit, the bliss of gods and men, proclaim the Dhamma, the doctrine; preach a life of holiness, perfect and pure.''- The Buddha
“In the life of an individual man, virtue is the sole good; such things as health, happiness, possessions, are of no account. Since virtue resides in the will, everything really good or bad in a man’s life depends only upon himself. He may be poor, but what of it? He can still be virtuous. He may be sentenced to death, but he can die nobly, like Socrates. Other men have power only over externals; virtue, which alone is truly good, rests entirely with the individual. Therefore every man has perfect freedom, provided he emancipates himself from mundane desires”- Zeno of Citium
Panaetius dipped his bread into honey and ate it as he thought about the question that had been vexing him. He looked out over the sea, at the busy harbor of Rhodes, and absently brushed a few crumbs out of his beard. He smiled contentedly as he looked out across the sea, and wished briefly that Rhodes had rebuilt the Colossus. Even now, it was an impressive sight; but to see it soaring into the heavens, as it once had done?
That would have been a sight to see. But, for some reason, the universe had not willed for it to remain standing. Panaetius shrugged, and walked to Acropolis. It was along the way that his life would be changed forever.
He walked on his own to the temple, as was his custom. He may have been a priest of Poseidon, but he wasn’t an old cripple, to need a litter bearer to carry him about the city. When he reached the Acropolis, however, he stopped short.
There was a crowd of people, standing and listening to a speaker. This was nothing new; Rhodes was famous for its rhetoric and orators. The speaker, however, was new. He was a man dressed in yellow flowing robes, and speaking in a loud, if heavily accented voice.
“This is what should be done
By one who is skilled in goodness,
And who knows the path of peace:
Let them be able and upright,
Straightforward and gentle in speech.”
”Humble and not conceited,
Contented and easily satisfied.
Unburdened with duties and frugal in their ways.
Peaceful and calm, and wise and skillful,
Not proud and demanding in nature.
Let them not do the slightest thing
That the wise would later reprove.
Wishing: In gladness and in safety,
May all beings be at ease.”
”Whatever living beings there may be;
Whether they are weak or strong, omitting none,
The great or the mighty, medium, short or small,
The seen and the unseen,
Those living near and far away,
Those born and to-be-born,
May all beings be at ease![1]”
“Thus,” said the man in yellow, “said the Blessed One, when he spoke on kindness.”
Panaetius was intrigued, and wished like hearing what the man had to say, but decided against it. After all, he had his duties to attend to, and he doubted the gods would be happy if he dallied to listen to an orator.
He ended up discussing the speaker with a worshipper, Akakios, at the temple. “Did you see that speaker on the Acropolis today?” he asked casually, after they finished discussing an offering for the temple.
Akakios nodded. “He’s one of those Indian philosophers. Or a priest.” Akakios shrugged. “Perhaps a bit of both. I’ve seen them before, in my travels to Egypt and Cilicia, but I never really listened to them before.” Akakios hesitated for a moment, and at last said, “He was…. impressive.”
Panaetius snorted. “I’m disappointed in you, Akakios. I thought I knew you better than to get mixed up in those eastern cults. Next thing you know you’ll be running off to get circumcised like one of the Jews. ”
“No, no,” protested Akakios. “It wasn’t like that at all. You would like him, I think. He spoke about the importance of moderation, and the importance of living a balanced life. He condemned the excesses of the wealthy, and laughed at the idea that suffering brings you a benefit.” He paused. “I’d listen to him again, actually. Besides,” he added, “he was a Greek from Bactria. It’s not like he was a barbarian.”
Panaetius shrugged. “Perhaps,” he said, “I will listen to him some time.”
Some time, as often happened, did not come until several months later, when Pantaelus saw the Bactrian preaching again. He had heard gossip about the Bactrian and his followers in the meantime. They had bought a small building in a respectable, but by no means wealthy area in Rhodes, and preached throughout the city. Pantaelus had ignored it as just another trend, but Akakios was convinced otherwise.
“Mark my words, Panaetius,” he told him one day. “I think you should go talk with their leader, Sophocles.”
Panaetius scowled. “They let women in, I hear.”
Akakios laughed. “There are women at the temple to Athena,” he pointed out.
“What about that foolishness about being born again after you die?” demanded Pantaelus. “As if we could be born again after we die?”
Akakios smiled. “Good question. Why don’t you ask them about such foolishness, rather than pestering me?”
Pantaelus felt the heat rush to his face, and scolded himself. He should have better control of his temper than he did. “Maybe I will.”
“Why not?” asked Akakios. “You’re the one who always preaches to me and everyone else about a life of moderation and decency.” Akakios smirked. “Maybe you’ll become a Buddhist while you’re there.”
“I think I have a better chance of becoming a Jew,” replied Panaetius. “But it can’t hurt.”
The next day, Panaetius walked into the Buddhist temple, and looked around cautiously. It seemed respectable enough; a bit plain, but it was a new temple. Panaetius noticed that there was an artisan painting a picture of a man sitting beneath a tree while monsters attacked him. Panaetius stared at the painting for a while, as he noticed that the man seemed to be seeing through the monsters, as if they were beneath his contempt.
“That,” said a voice behind him, “is the Enlightened One when he defeated Death.”
Panaetius turned around to see the Bactrian, who was wearing, as usual, a yellow robe. “I greet you. I am Sophocles of Alexandria of the Caucasus[2].”
Panaetius looked at Sophocles, and nodded. He seemed like a decent enough man, and Panaetius hadn’t heard any scandals about him, the way he had about the priests of Demeter. “I greet you, Sophocles of Alexandria. I am Panaetius.”
“Ah,” replied Sophocles as his eyes lit up. “You are one of the priests of Poseidon, are you not?”
“Yes,” said Panaetius. “But I am also a stoic.”
“Ah,” said Sophocles. He nodded. “Then you view apatheia as the ultimate goal, do you not?”
Panaetius nodded. “What other reason could there be for a philosopher, than to allay that which causes disturbance in life?”
“Let me tell you,” said Sopochles, “of the Enlightened One, and his discovery of nirvana.”
“Nirvana?” asked Panaetius, as a monk brought in wine.
Sophocles took a sip of wine. “The Enlightened One, the Buddha, discovered the Fourth Truths. He discovered that suffering is found everywhere in existence. But he then discovered the source of suffering, which is caused by a craving for sensual pleasure.”
Panaetius smiled. “I would venture that you do not approve of the Epicureans, then.”
Sophocles sniffed. “They are fools. Well intentioned, perhaps, but fools. They feel there there is no life beyond this one, and so they indulge in sensual pleasures. But what will that bring them, at the end of life? If they are right, they will merely have spent a life achieving nothing, as, they claim, most lives amount to. And if they are wrong….” Sophocles shrugged. “I digress.”
“He then asked what the cause of suffering is. The Buddha determined that this is the craving for sensual pleasure. The third truth was that when this craving was stopped, suffering would stop.” He looked at Panaetius, who was listening intently. “And, finally, the Buddha reached the fourth truth. To end suffering, one must follow the Holy Eightfold Path, and only then may one reach nirvana.”
The two spent the next hour discussing the Holy Eightfold Path, and the Threefold Training. At long last, Panaetius rose from his seat, and dipped his head in respect to Sophocles. “You have given me much to think on,” he said. “But I must ponder what we have discussed before I can converse more with you.”
“Of course,” said Sophocles. “How else could one achieve enlightenment, if not by meditating?”
Panaetius returned to the Buddhist temple [3] a week later, and sat down with Sophocles once again. “I have thought much upon your philosophy,” he said. “But I see several problems.”
For once, noticed Panaetius with a glint of mischief, Sophocles calm exterior seemed to vanish. “What do you mean?”
“Let us work through the steps by which you claim suffering arises. To begin with, you assume that aging and dying depend on people being reborn, correct?”
Sophocles nodded cautiously. “I suspect a trap here,” he said ruefully, “but yes.”
“What is your basis for assuming that soul can be reborn?” inquired Panaetius [4].
Sophocles thought for a moment. “You would agree that everything could come from opposites, wouldn’t you? That is, that one can only sleep if one was awake, and one can only die if one was die.”
Panaetius smiled. “No, I wouldn’t. You won’t get me to start letting you recite the Phaedo to me. Socrates started from the assumption that the soul existed before death. Yet what was his claim for that?”
Sophocles thought for a moment, and nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I see your point. However….”
To be continued.
[1] The Metta Sutta
[2] This is actually in Bactria. I know, I know. The Greeks under Alexander called the Hindu Kush the Caucasus, and for the city the name stuck.
[3] Of course, it’s technically a stupa, but at this point Panaetius views it as a temple.
[4] Of course, reincarnation isn’t necessarily a radical idea, in the Classical Greek context; witness the Phaedo.