A beautiful feature of proverbs and aphorisms is their flexibility of interpretation.  Different readers can find in them varying interpretations based on their own experiences and perceptions.  Some proverbs admit only a narrow degree of interpretive variance; others draw their power from ambiguity, and allow for a broad range of possible meanings.

Consider this vivid saying, which appears in the very first line of Seneca’s Epistle 87:

I was shipwrecked before I boarded the ship.

[Naufragium, antequam navem adscenderem, feci]

I was surprised to find out that, according to the editor of the text in my possession, this adage did not mean what I assumed it meant.  The editor’s footnote explains that the proverb is intended to describe a situation in which a person sets out on a journey with very little in the way of baggage:  that is, he begins his travels as if he were a “shipwrecked” man deprived of all his possessions. It is a kind of praise of economy of management.  

Now I suppose I have no reason to dispute this interpretation, as it fits the context of Seneca’s essay and the moral lesson he intends to impart.  But I think this adage is too powerful and flexible to be confined to a single meaning; it contains many more rich possibilities. I prefer to see it as describing the condition of a doomed man, someone who is lost even before the inception of his quest.  For emphasis I would insert the word “even” into the proverb, making it read:  I was shipwrecked before I even boarded the ship.  In other words, I had lost even before beginning the race. I was beaten even before I had begun to fight.  How often do we see such men in the course of our daily lives? To me Seneca’s adage is a warning, and a dire one at that.  

We see men who have accepted defeat even before commencing the game; we see men who have psychologically crippled themselves even before they have made a good faith effort.  Even before ascending the gangplank and boarding the vessel, they are shipwrecked in mind and spirit.  For me this interpretation of Seneca’s proverb has far more resonance than the meaning that apparently prevailed in his own time.  But perhaps, reader, you perceive things differently.  When one’s job is to service the legal needs of shipwrecked clients in varying stages of wreckage, there may be an unconscious tendency to universalize such sentiments.

Variety of interpretation is a fascinating characteristic of parables and proverbs.  One such parable from the pages of New Testament scripture recently attracted my attention and reflection.  Readers may be familiar with the so-called “Parable of the Wheat and the Tares,” which is found in Matthew 13:24—30.  I quote below from the venerable King James text:

Another parable put he forth unto them, saying, The kingdom of heaven is likened unto a man which sowed good seed in his field:

But while men slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat, and went his way, but when the blade was sprung up, and brought forth fruit, then appeared the tares also.  So the servants of the householder came and said unto him, Sir, didst not thou sow good seed in they field?  From whence then hath it tares?  He said unto them, An enemy hath done this.  The servants said unto him, Wilt thou then that we go and gather them up?  But he said, Nay; lest while ye gather up the tares, ye root up also the wheat with them.  Let both grow together until the harvest:  and in the time of harvest I will say to the reapers, Gather ye together first the tares, and bind them in bundles to burn them:  but gather the wheat into my barn.

I quickly discovered that this parable was famous, and had spawned different interpretations by scholars of Biblical exegesis over the centuries.  I have no bone to pick with them, no knowledge to question them, and no desire to arouse the furies of theological dispute.  I have only my own range of experience and insatiate curiosity.  But first matters first:  having never encountered the word tares before, I consulted the Oxford English Dictionary.  The word, I learned, was of obscure origin, but was essentially a name given to some species of plant called vetch, “especially to those occurring as weeds in corn-fields.”  So we may, for the purposes of this parable, consider tares an obscure term for weeds. 

But what does the parable mean?  I can only offer the interpretation that appeals most to me.  I make no claim to any authority other than that of my own experience and sense.  The parable suggests the following idea to me:  that we must bide our time, and not be too quick to eradicate the weeds in our fields.  If we move too soon against the weeds, we run the risk of pulling out the wheat as well.  Sometimes it is better to let problems, or known harms, persist to a certain point of ripening. We must be patient, and learn to live with harmful interlopers, or petty annoyances, in our midst. As Ibn Tumart says, until we can solve certain problems, we must endure them. 

There will come a time when it is appropriate to cull the tares, so to speak:  to move decisively to solve or excise problems.  I have found this interpretation to be in alignment with my own work and life experiences.  For the active man, there is a temptation to act immediately to solve problems, to root out weeds and banish them from our presence.  But this immediacy of action can create as many problems as it solves; in many cases, waiting until such problems reach a maturation is a better strategy.  And when such a harvest time comes, the reckoning should be decisive and final.    

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Take a look at the latest collection of essays, Centuries, which contains all writings from 2020 to 2023.