This letter, if you're not familiar, supposedly recounts how the Septuagint – that's the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible – came to be. But tucked inside this historical (or perhaps pseudo-historical) account, are little gems of wisdom. And one of those gems is a Socratic-style dialogue with a king.
So, the king asks a wise man: "Why is it that the majority of men never become virtuous?"
And the answer? It's surprisingly blunt. "Because," the sage replies, "all men are by nature intemperate and inclined to pleasure. Hence, injustice springs up and a flood of avarice." Ouch.
It’s a pretty dim view of human nature, isn't it? We're all wired for fun, for indulgence. And that natural inclination, according to this perspective, leads us down a slippery slope to injustice and greed. Virtue, on the other hand... well, virtue is hard work.
The sage continues, explaining that "the habit of virtue is a hindrance to those who are devoted to a life of pleasure because it enjoins upon them the preference of temperance and righteousness." Essentially, doing the right thing often means saying "no" to what feels good in the moment. Choosing temperance – self-control – over instant gratification. Choosing righteousness – justice and fairness – over personal gain.
And why should we choose these harder paths? Here's where it gets interesting: "For it is God who is the master of these things." The implication is clear: virtue isn't just about being "good" in a moral sense. It's about aligning ourselves with a higher power, with a divine order.
The king, clearly impressed, then asks a follow-up question: "What ought kings to obey?"
The answer? Simple, yet profound: "The laws, in order that by righteous enactments they may restore the lives of men." Laws aren't just arbitrary rules. They're meant to be tools for creating a just and equitable society. They are there to "restore the lives of men" by creating a structure for people to live in peace and harmony.
And then comes the kicker: "Even as you by such conduct in obedience to the Divine command have laid up in store for yourself a perpetual memorial." By following the laws and acting justly, the king isn't just ruling well in the present. He's building a legacy that will endure, a "perpetual memorial" rooted in divine principles.
So, what does this ancient exchange tell us today? Perhaps it’s a reminder that the pursuit of virtue is a lifelong struggle, a constant negotiation between our desires and our higher selves. And that even for those in positions of power, true leadership lies in upholding the law and striving for righteousness. And the Letter of Aristeas suggests that doing so is not only right, but also the path to a lasting legacy.
It makes you think, doesn't it? What kind of memorial are we building with our choices, big and small? And how can we better align ourselves with that "Divine command," whatever that means to you?