An interesting event occurred a few weeks ago, on which I feel I’ve grasped greater understanding since beginning the study of Aristotle. I felt compelled one Sunday night to wake up the next morning and see the sunrise. I thought it quite perplexing that I, and indeed most of us, deprive ourselves daily of such a beautiful sight. So, despite briefly succumbing to the temptations of the snooze alarm, I awoke and walked atop a nearby parking garage. I shan’t try to cheapen the sunrise with words, especially since it’s not vital to the story, but it was indeed beautiful. The rest of the morning consisted of some exercise, reading, and a trip to the grocery store. After shopping, I thought a cup of Starbucks would be the perfect thing to segway into the afternoon, and so I went. After buying my coffee, I walked to my car and got inside. Up to this point, my day had been wholly and profoundly introspective, save for the brief interactions I shared with cashiers. God was working on my mind and my heart.
As I began to turn the car on, my personal bubble was popped with a knock on my window. I looked to my left to see a man standing outside. He was wearing a red, button-down shirt tucked into his jeans. The shirt had a plaid pattern, his hair was dirty blonde and unkempt from worried sweat, and he sported a mustache which covered the entirety of his upper lip. I would guess he was in his late 40’s. Being that he didn’t appear to be the type of man who would rob, kill, or preach to me, I turned my radio down and lowered the window.
He introduced himself (his name escapes my memory) and explained that he had lost his wallet, and he and his family (a wife and daughter) were in desperate need of gas money to get along. He said if I could help him in any way, he would slap two new tires on my car the first chance he got. I immediately dismissed his offer out of laziness. Regardless, I grabbed my wallet and removed the sum of its currency: four $1 bills. I honestly wish I had more to give him, and I told him so, but he shot down such a notion. “Right now, this is worth a million bucks” he said in a broken voice. The kind of voice that sees hope after enduring despairing stress. I told him good day, and God bless, to which he replied “He does every day when I get outta bed.”
Leaving the parking lot of Starbucks, I got onto the highway and felt an unusual feeling. I didn’t feel doubt as to whether or not he was actually telling me the truth about his situation, nor did I possess a sense of self-righteous fulfillment. I actually felt I hadn’t done enough. I felt as though I should have done more. It even crossed my mind to turn around, follow him to the nearest ATM, and get more money…a call which I didn’t obey. But why did I feel this way? I’d done something good, hadn’t I? I did not think on the matter until I began studying the relationship Aristotle posits between intellectual and moral virtue.
I’ve concluded that my introspective morning resulted in a heightened sense of intellectual virtue within myself at that particular time. When faced with a moral dilemma, I responded as my heart told me, and thus demonstrated a level of moral virtue. However, my intellectual virtue was elevated to such an extent, at that particular time, that my moral virtue did not live up to it. My actions did not live up to my thoughts, though they were exercised in the same direction and towards the same goal. But this only led me to question further. How dependant is moral virtue on intellectual virtue, and is the latter cheapened if the former does not match its magnitude? I shall continue to ponder…
