That which is blissful and immortal has no troubles itself, nor does it cause trouble for others, so that it is not affected by anger or gratitude (for all such things come about through weakness). – Principal Doctrine One
Epicurus applied epilogismos (empirical thinking) to all things, even the gods. In thinking empirically about the gods, he specifically considered their role as witnesses to our oaths–which is why Philodemus equates piety with justice in his scroll On Piety–, Epicurus saw how oath-breakers are treated by the community, so that the gods seem to embody the collective memory, traditions, choices and avoidances, and norms of the tribe. Gods (or rather the social group, through invocation and use of its gods) have the “power” to bring specific curses and blessings, which may at times be specified in the social contract of the community. I should clarify that this is not a supernatural power, but rather a social function.
For instance, if you vow by Athena to be loyal to a friend, and then you turn around and betray your friend, many sincere worshipers of Athena will consider you cursed because you will have blasphemed Athena. They may have, as a community, ways of dealing with oath-breakers that are unpleasant, as a way of discouraging oath-breaking. We see in many modern religious communities that oath-breakers and apostates are often banned from their Mormon, Muslims, or other religious communities. As central symbols of tribes and communities, we see that the gods function as their unifying symbols that add coherence and stability to communities.
The Letter to Menoeceus says that gods make us feel “familiar” to them as a result of sharing similar virtues as they have. This “filial” (familiar) model of Epicurean piety has been distinguished from the “servile” model of vulgar piety that we see elsewhere.
We may view the gods and the practices concerning them as instances of (individual or communal) self-expression and reminders of our highest values.
The Epicurean gods also invite us to ask what kinds of sentient beings would be WORTHY of everlasting happiness, of immortal bliss, and also of immortality–which is a quite different question from the ontological station of the gods.
Therefore the Doctrine of Epicurus concerning the gods must be studied in terms of its utility so that, even if we do away with the Epicurean gods, we still have a clear grasp of their utility in their original context, and we may seek alternate ways to fulfil that same utility and possibly experiment with a non-theistic religiosity. I have speculated that this religiosity can perhaps focus its piety on the healing words of true philosophy, rather than on the gods.
A non-theistic Epicurean religiosity is a worthwhile project, however, a part of me still wonders if, by neglecting the moral tasks posed by the Epicurean gods, we’d be neglecting crucial exercises for the soul’s “muscles”, and whether we harm our moral development by ignoring the utility of the gods.
The Imaginary Friends Argument
Imaginary friends are often cited as a metaphor by atheists who wish to ridicule vulgar religiosity, but the “imaginary friends” metaphor actually may yield important insights concerning religiosity and should be treated as a legitimate ethical and anthropological argument.
Children have imaginary friends, which are sort of familiar spirits to them, and this is considered a normal part of childhood. This is probably because they are developing social faculties. I imagine it’s like a computer that has the program to update itself: the child’s brain is learning and processing for the first time complex social interactions, which give him skills necessary for adult life. The child must learn communication skills, and even subtle social cues. Perhaps imagining friends helps the brain to learn and practice these social skills in the initial stages of social development.
The Utility of Piety
Honoring a sage is itself a great benefit to the one who honors – Vatican Saying 32
This issue of the utility of piety is a separate question from the nature of the gods, even if related. But in what way do we benefit when we honor or respect something? Epicurus said piety had psycho-somatic effects: that it may help us to cultivate pleasant dispositions in the body and mind.
Piety can make us feel happy, attached to something wholesome and familiar, and can help us feel healthy and mentally strong.
Piety can also feel like a great peace, because we are being just whenever we honor our covenants of loyalty, friendship, or filial love, and one is genuinely happy when one hears the name of a loved one, and is reminded of that love. This sweetens life, is pleasant, memorable, and makes us happy.
Piety, if sincere, feels like reverence, which ennobles if the thing revered is worthy. When such piety feels like familiarity, filial, we may say that we share part of our (mental and bodily) identity with the thing revered, otherwise it would not feel familiar. The Epicurean Doctrines may also gain familiarity through acquaintance, repetition, and memorization.
When we observe the psycho-somatic effects of piety in us, we have clear, direct insight about its benefits, which justifies “faith” not in gods or in anything external to ourselves, but in the memorized Doctrines and their power and medicine in our soul.
Living Like Immortals
In the third book of De Rerum Natura, Lucretius praised the words of Epicurus saying: “like bees, we sip their nectar”–as if from flowers in a meadow–and that they’re “golden, ever worthy of immortal life”. In this way, he compared the Doctrines to ambrosia–the nectar of immortality.
Lucretius was conveying that the Aurea Dicta (the “golden words” of true philosophy) help us to live like immortals, and to feel as if we are surrounded by immortal goods. This is because these words point to all the things that make life worth living, and so the diligent study of the Aurea Dicta is the most advantageous activity for our happiness. But bees drink nectar in order to make honey: the idea of imbibing Epicurus’ words is to produce sweetness, pleasure.
Epicurus would not talk about living like immortals, as he did in his Epistle to Menoeceus, if he had not first placed before the eyes of his disciple, in clear detail, just what it means to live like an immortal.
Living like an immortal implies various things. Epicurus describes the gods as indestructible and forever happy. These are the only two religious taboos he gave us. He said we may believe anything about the gods so long as we do not blaspheme their immortality and their constantly blissful state of sentience. We are left to fill in the blanks.
This must mean that the gods are envisioned as sentient beings, since only such beings are able to experience constant pleasures. Living like an immortal implies that the pleasures that we experience are all of a higher nature, that we become resilient, indestructible, and transcendentally happy. Living like gods also implies an art of living, a methodology for living, a lifestyle, or a cultural expression which is modeled by our Epicurean narratives about the gods.
It can be dangerous to remain unaware of what gods, guiding values, and beliefs we have set for ourselves. Unanalyzed praise can sometimes degrade a soul, sinking it in unwholesome association. Epicurus invites us to consciously create our values in this manner, and to observe the pragmatic results of this ethical exercise in our own bodies and minds
The Future Self
This task may remind some of Nietzsche’s Overman. This is because the utility of the gods and the utility of our narratives about our own future are, in some ways, similar.
Just as we feel rooted in our past when we revere our ancestors, we also anchor our selves in the future when we revere our gods. There is a progression in time between these two cosmological imaginaries: the one (usually) below our feet in the graves of our ancestors where we are rooted like trees, and the one (usually) in the heavens towards which our instincts of freedom and creation inspire us to advance and evolve. Perhaps we subconsciously intuit our evolutionary advance from a less-evolved past to a more-evolved future, and this finds expression in these two forms of piety? We naturally (and perhaps subconsciously) seek to imitate and to become like the things we deify or idealize. The future Self has to be conceived and imagined so clearly, that it feels within reach. Thinking about our future self is, in itself, ethically useful if done right.
While you are on the road, try to make the later part better than the earlier part; and be equally happy when you reach the end. – Vatican Saying 48
The Letter to Menoeceus teaches that the future is partly ours and partly not ours. This means that we have causal responsibility for a portion of our destiny, of our future self. Concerning what this portion entails is a matter of great importance for our happiness and for our moral development. The favors we do to our future self give us hope in our future pleasure, stability, and confident expectation that we will easily secure our needs.
Exercise: Envision Your Gods
If we were to set up an existential task, or “a homework”, related to Principal Doctrine 1, it would be to place before our eyes: to clearly imagine, in detail, the lifestyle of the gods. This is a visualization exercise–which could be done in the form of journaling, if we are not very good visual thinkers.
I recently shared the Isle of the Blessed passage from Lucian’s comedy True Story. Since it depicts a paradise of pleasure, one worthy of Epicurus himself (whom Lucretius makes a resident there), the Isle of the Blessed might be a good example of a type of exercise similar to envisioning the gods, that we may draw inspiration from.
Since the Epicurean gods of the realist interpretation are what today would be considered extraterrestrial super-evolved animals, some of our readers may wish to draw inspiration from the emergent field of astro-biology. I have speculated that any creature that feels perfectly safe and invulnerable (as the gods do) would have to evolve in an ecosystem that has an extremely high level of symbiosis (that is, cooperation rather than competition) between creatures.
“Sculpting” our gods (or “imagined persons” if we are non-realist about them) in our minds, and putting before our eyes their activities, pastimes, narratives, opulences, pleasures, qualities, values, and attributes may serve as a good point of reference to help us to sculpt our own characters and lifestyles. In this way, we gain a clear conception in our minds of how to live a godlike lifestyle.
Envisioning the gods is an exercise in ethical self-creation, and in character-building. It’s a reflection on the quality of life that the highest form of sentient being in the cosmos would have. How would we live if we were to imitate their godly lifestyle? That is part of the utility of the Epicurean gods.
Finally, I wish to stress that this exercise is useful and has educational value even if we believe that our gods are imaginary: they can still be our lifestyle-models, who point us in the direction of the healthiest and happiest way of living.
The usefulness of this exercise is increased if we include concrete details concerning the aromas, tastes, architecture, fashion, and mental and emotional states of our gods. This is what we mean by “placing before the eyes”–a practice used by the Epicurean Guide Philodemus, and by Epicurus himself in his Letter to Menoeceus. In this way, we move from the abstract to the concrete, from the Platonic realm to the real and tangible world.
Further Reading:
Dialogues on the Epicurean Gods
