Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Euthyphro

What's the new news, Socrates? Why, have you left your pastimes at Apollo's gymnasium to pass the time here near the Magistrate's court? There's no way you also just happen to have a suit before the official as I do.

Certainly not, Euthyphro, what the Athenians term just—a suit; an indictment rather.

What do you mean? Someone has, so it seems, brought you up on charges; but I wouldn't make that the charge, that you indict another.

Certainly not.

Someone charged you?

That's the truth.

Who might this be?

I myself do not know the man, Euthyphro, very well. He seems to me some young lad, an unknown one. But they named him, I do believe, as Miletos; and he is from the Pittheus clan. If you recall to mind a man of that family name, Miletos; type of fellow with straight, smooth locks—and lightness of beard—but has a curved, charming nose.

I'm not picturing him, Socrates; but what charge has he filed against you?

What kind of charge? A fairly respectable one, I do believe: Since it is no minor matter, his being so young, to have realized such needed action. Now that one, as he says, knows what way the young people are being corrupted, and who the people corrupting them are. He must even happen to be a wise man and, after seeing my own ignorance—in belief that man's corrupting those of such an age,—he came intending to denounce me, as at one's mother, on behalf of the city's state. He even seems, I believe, to be the sole man in politics starting off right; since rightly to be concerned for the young is primary that they will become best: Just as is seen for right, a true tiller of the ground to take care of the young vines first, and after this come also the rest. As is evidenced that Miletos perhaps first clears us off, the ones ruining the young peoples' growth, so he says; since after this is clear that by caring for the elderly, he will be responsible for the most benefits and greatest good for Athens—as at least seems likely to happen for one started out from so authoritative an outset.

I would prefer it, Socrates; but I'm afraid the opposite may occur: Now, seems to me he simply sets out from the fire's place to harm our city's state in trying to victimize you. And tell me, what does he say you even do to mislead the kids?

Things strange, you admirable man, as these here to hear; for he says I'm a maker up Gods, also that I create new gods and not believing in the ancient ones he alleged because of these very acts: So he states.

I see, Socrates: It's because you say the supernatural happens to you repeatedly. So because of belief you carve a new vein concerning the divine, he has charged this allegation; and certainly slanderous does he come to court, knowing such things easily hook the masses. Because even myself, truth be told, when I state something about the divinities in the citizens' assembly—for telling them what is to come—they laugh like at a crazy man: And yet, I have not once said anything untrue whenever I foretell the future; nonetheless, they are jealous of all such as we who are like this. Though one must not consider these, but have it out instead.

But maybe, Euthyphro my dear friend, being laughed at is no matter at all. Now for Athenians surely, as I do believe, it is not especially of concern should they consider somebody clever—that is, unless disposed to teaching one's own personal wisdom; but they'd think he makes even other people like this: They therefore get angry whether, as you figure, it is out of envy or by some other cause.

Then about this right here, how ever it is they're disposed to me: I'm not very eager to experiment.

Well perhaps you think you scarcely present yourself and that you are unwilling to teach your knowledge of wisdom. Though I am afraid, through my love of humanity, I seem to them exactly like I can so effusively pour myself out to every man I speak to; not only for free, but that I would quite happily even be put out of pocket if someone cares to hear me. So then, as I was saying even now, if they would laugh—just like you say you felt—it would be nothing too unpleasant to put up with them making fun of one at court. But if they're going to be respectful, the way in which this will turn out—opacity except to you seers.

But perhaps it won't be any concern, Socrates; instead, you will fight your case quite mindfully while I think I too shall win mine.

An indictment for you, really Euthyphro? Are you defending or per suing?

I am plaintiff.

Pursuing what?

A man I am thought insane, yet again!, to pursue charges against.

And why's this—does your prey fly on wings?

He's far from taking flight; the man happens to be quite very old.

Who is this?

He's my father.

Your own, oh most noble sir!

Absolutely correct.

But what is the accusation, and what is the suit for?

A charge of murder, Socrates.

By god's own son! Oh Euthyphro, is it that so many miss how the right way is? But I just cannot believe to act rightly is a man's succeeding at this; more like one who goes already a bit too far beyond wisdom.

Far enough by God, dear Socrates.

But the dead man is, surely, a family member deceased of your own dad; or I suppose it is clear? Since you certainly would not charge him with a vengeance for murder on another's behalf.

Funny that you think there a difference whether the man killed is a stranger or relative, but not that this alone must one watch out for: Whether the killer slew him rightfully or no.—and if it was legal, to let it go; but if not, one needs to proceed, even if the murderer lives in your own home and sits down to dine with you (since the guilt does equally defile should you live associating knowingly with such a one if you do not cleanse yourself by atoning and proceed to prosecute that man). The dead man, in fact, was a worker of mine and since we farm in Naxos, the servant was there working on our land. But when he was belligerently drunk and had been angered by one of our household slaves, he killed him. Then my father tied him up by the feet and hands, threw him into some ditch and sends a man back to get legal advice from a religious expert on what to do. But in this span of time, dad took little thought of the tied-up man and neglected him as a murderer, it being no concern if he should perish—so then this is what also happened: For he has died from hunger and cold and because of chains before the messenger came back from the Oracle's representative. So this is what both my father and the rest of my family are also sore about because I prosecute for murder, on a murderer's behalf, my father who did not commit murder, so those people say; and if he did kill him in particular,—the deceased being a homicide,—one should not worry about it as such: That is immoral, a son to attack his father for just punishment of death—but they're looking at it wrong, Socrates, the religious as it is both about holiness and in relation of what's wrong.

Indeed you do think you know from God himself so precisely about matters divine, how they are disposed concerning things religious and the unholy so that—with these affairs so accomplished, as you state—you have no fear in passing judgment on your father as to how you may happen to perform an act of impiety?

It'd be ill of use to me, Socrates, and Euthyphro would not be any different than most people if I don't know such things as these, all of them, exactly.

Then it is far best for me, Euthyphro you are incredible!, to become your disciple, and in response to the accusation—the one about Miletos—best too to challenge him on these very facts and argue that even in the past I made quite the effort to know about matters divine, and now since that man says I act speaking thoughtlessly and err in cutting a new mold about the divinities, I have actually become your student—"And if, on the one hand Miletos," I'd say, "you do agree that Euthyphro is wise with respect to such things, consider how I am also practicing correct belief and drop your charges against me: If on the other hand you refuse, bring a suit against that teacher before you do me alleging he's corrupting his elders, both myself and his own father by instructing me and berating to punish him"—and should I fail to convince and not get the action dismissed, have you charged before me instead, is it best to say these very things before the judges I appealed to challenge him?

My God, Socrates; then if he tried to have me indicted, I might find, I suppose, some way in which he is not right and our argument would have pertained a lot sooner to that other guy in court than be about myself.

And truly, my dear companion, in sight of all this I want to be made your pupil knowing that any given other, sure—as well as this guy Miletos—while they simply seem not to see you, he perceived me so pointed and easily that he wrote me up for impiety. So now, by god Zeus tell me what at present you assert you so reliably know about what kind of thing is holiness and sacrilege, both concerning murder and the rest? Or is 'piety' itself the same as itself in every action, and ungodliness, conversely, is opposed to the pious in every case, but is similar to itself also in possessing one particular appearing in relation to its most ungodly form—the every same thing which should, will be impiety?

Doubtless totally, my Socrates.

Do tell me already, what holy piety is and what is impious unholiness?

Well I mean then that the holy is just what I am doing right now, when someone is behaving wrongly as relates to capital crimes like misrepresenting the sacred or something else such as this, it's to prosecute the one who is at fault—whether he happens to be a father, your mother or whomever else; but that not to proceed being impious: Since, Socrates, I shall tell you a proof to view how our customary is so of divine law—which I already told others also, that these things might turn out rightly so—let none chance they may, even be anyone who might, give in to an impious man. Now, the very people who do honor to Zeus for being the chief and most law-abiding of the gods also agree on this point, that he bound his father for trying to consume his own sons (which was unwarranted) and that God it was in return castrated him by cause of other acts like this; but they are angry at me that I go after my father for being unjust and thus do they contradict their own arguments concerning the gods and about me.

Well this isn't the reason why I'm being prosecuted, that whenever someone makes claims such as these about the gods, I accept it somewhat argumentatively—is it? Because, so it seems, someone will say I am at fault. So now if these things do seem right to you too, who are well aware of such matters, it really is necessary, as it appears, that we defer to you. Since what will we even say, I mean also ourselves agree to know nothing about them? But tell me—by God friend—you really think these things happened like this?

As well as things even more amazing than these, Socrates, which most people do not know of.

And the war, you believe there really was one between the gods, terribly bitter rivalries as well, and battles and a lot of other such sort of things which are both stated by the poets and by talented artists, even other divine accounts depicted for us, in particular at the great Panathenaeum festival where the tapestry rich in such designs is taken up to the Acropolis? Ought we say these truths are facts, Euthyphro?

Not only that, Socrates, but what I was just now saying; and I'll describe a lot of other things to you, if you wish, concerning the divine: When you hear them, I'm certain you will be shocked.

I wouldn't be surprised; but tell me these things in detail for one time more at your convenience: Now try to say more clearly just what I was asking you.—'cause you, my friend, showed me well enough earlier when I asked what ever the holy is; but tell me how this thing—holiness—happens to be what you do in prosecuting your father for murder.

And I was speaking truthfully, Socrates.

Perhaps: But the truth is, Euthyphro, you also say a lot of other things are holy.

They are, in fact.

Then remember that I advocated not for you to explain to me one or two of the many holy things, but that very form by which the pieties all are holy? Because you were saying surely by means of one single type both that unholy things are impious and things pious are holy: Or do you forget?

I recall.

Then go ahead and show me this apparent ideal, what on earth it is, in order that by looking to and using it as example's self—which such a thing should be, of those which either you might or someone else could use—, I may say is holiness and what could not be such I'd say is not.

If you want so, Socrates, I will tell you like this.

Well really, I do wish.

The thing that's dear to the Gods is therefore holy, but if not loved by them would be unholy.

All right, Euthyphro, and just as I kept searching for you to answer, now in the same way am I also do respond: However, whether it be true—I am not certain yet; but you clearly will fully prove what reasons you stated as really true.

Oh, quite so.

Come on, let's examine what we say. Both piety and a pious person are holy while that which god detests, whether object or man, is impious: But it's not the same thing, entirely opposite rather—the holy in relation to impiety; isn't that so?

So then it is.

And seems to be said well enough?

I think so, Socrates (that's what they say).

Then also that the gods, Euthyphro, team up and quarrel with one another and have rivalries amongst them against each other, and this also is said?

Why, it's spoken of.

But the difference between whose what, most noble fellow, makes hostility and angry feelings? We should look into thus: If you and I were at odds over a total, about which of two groups was greater, the difference concerning these might make us hostile enemies; or, were we to arrive at a sum in direct relation to such things, would we get over it so quick?

Pretty surely.

Therefore, should we differ also about something greater and one smaller, if we were to go measure, we would fast depart from our dispute.

These matters are fact.

And even if we came to weight in, as I imagine, might we make distinction about the heavier and lighter both?

& why not?

What about, indeed, if we disagree, and in relation to what capacity for judgment, were we unable to reach decision; would we be each other's enemy in a rage? Perhaps it's not inconvenient to you, but—as I'm reasoning—look at whether these things are both right and wrong, fair and ugly, good and evil. Is it not that these relate to what we just disagreed about and, incapable even of recourse to a sufficient choice, do we turn hateful to one another, whenever we become enemies,—both you and I and all other people too?

But the disagreement is this, Socrates, and over these facts.

But what are the gods, Euthyphro? Even if they do not quarrel, might they differ about these very facts?

They certainly must.

And certain of the gods—you see, my noble Euthyphro—variously consider some things lawful according to your rationale, and lovely and shameful and great and bad: But certainly they can't have gone to war against each other if they weren't at odds over these things? Isn't that right?

You're speaking reasonably.

Consequently, they all individually believe beautiful things are also good and right, they even love these traits, but despise their opposite?

No doubt.

And the same stuff, so you say, some think just and others wrong over which they form factions in disagreement and attack each other—this is the case?

It is.

Wow, it looks like the same things are hated and loved by the gods, and the same matters would be divinely both detested and dear?

Apparently.

Then both holy things and impieties will prove to be the same, oh Euthyphro, to judge by this line of reasoning?

Chance may be.

You did not answer the question I just posed, you curious wonder. Though, I wasn't asking this per se—what manages to be the same as both pious and unholy—but what maybe might be dear to the divine and hateful to them—as seems likely: I mean so that what you do now in punishing your father be no matter for amazement if by doing this you render service pleasing to Zeus, but hated by Kronos and Uranos; an act dearly beloved to Hephaistos, but also hostile to Hera.—and if there is some other god differs from a different one on the subject disputing in turn, also to those gods according to the same facts

But Socrates, I think, at least about this here, none of the Gods each disagrees at odds with an-other differing as if there were no need to pay the penalty for any man who kills another wrongly.

But why? Have you heard someone disputing that one who kills unjustly or does something else unlawful, whatever it is, ought not pay a penalty?

Actually, they stop at nothing to make these challenges in a lot of places, ways—even in courts of law: Since they commit all manner of wrongs, they do and say an awful lot when they're put on trial.

It's true even they agree, Euthyphro, that they're wrong and despite their agreement, don't they still say they should not be penalized?

Absolutely, this is fact!

So they don't do and say any old thing; as I believe they wouldn't dare to argue in disputing this as fact, that if they do not harm—they must stand trial; rather, I think they say they are not guilty: Right?

You are asserting truths.

Then they do not dispute that is the case—as if it were not necessary for the wrong-doer to offer amends—but rather they fairly contend who is at fault, both for doing what and when.

Your assertions are true.

Therefore the Gods also come to be subjected these exact things if they bicker about what is right and wrong, as your argument states; and some men say they do each other harm while others disagree? Since clearly neither a divine nor human being, you amazing man, is so senseless as to argue against this bit, that it's the one who commits wrong by whom justice must be served.

Yes, this you speak is true, oh Socrates, at least in the abstract...

But I think, Euthyphro, the claimants dispute each, every point as carried out in act—people as well as gods—that is, if the gods have disagreements; though differing as concerns some action, some claim a transaction has been rightly carried out while others say it's been unjustly done: Isn't this right?

Of course.

Come now, my friend, show me too (so I may become more wise) what proof you have that all the gods believe that man suffered a wrongful death.—the one who after slaying a man while employed as laborer got tied-up by his master because of the one who died and he sooner gains his end on account of the chains before the man who bound him learned what must one do from the authorities on burial and homicide, and on behalf of such a man it indeed is proper for his son to proceed against and incriminate the father for murder? Come and, as regards these matters, try to clarify something specifically for me as to how above all the gods consider this one act to be right: And should you demonstrate this sufficiently plain to me, I will never stop singing your praises famed for wisdom.

Well perhaps it is no small task, Socrates, since I would positively be able to show you.

I understand; it's because I seem to you less of a worthy student than the judges, since you clearly indicate for those men both how unjust acts are and that every one of the gods hates such things.

Positively clear, Socrates, especially if they hear me speaking.

Oh, they will listen—if you are thought to speak reasonably. I came to realize this as you were explaining and I considered it personally: "If that in particular which Euthyphro points out as true, how all the gods consider a death such as this to be unjust is wrong—what more have I to learn from him with respect to what on earth 'the religious' is and what is its opposite? Actually, this ought be it in deed, as it seems: What is hated by the divine. But really, as relates to this fact they appear forever indistinct—divided presently as piety and what it is if not: Since being hated appears also loved by the gods." As a result, I'll let you go on this: If you wish, let all gods and every one of them hating consider it injustice itself. But this correction do we now stipulate in the argument—how what all gods hate is impious and that which they love is holy: And what some love while others hate it,—one way or another, neither; both—then you want us to distinguish about "the pious" and the ungodly just like this?

And what's to prevent it, Socrates?

Nothing stopping me, Euthyphro, but have a look at your own thought: If assuming this premise is so easy, you will show me what your proposition states.

Well I should say piousness is this: What all the gods would cherish; and its opposite, which the gods all detest, is unholy.

Then let's review this again, Euthyphro, to see if our argument's well-stated; or ought we let it go and accept this hypothesis as our own, which other folks assume—if someone should say some thing carries weight on its own, would we so agree it holds true? Or must what the speaker argues for be looked into?

Have to look in to that: Although, I personally think this here now is well argued.

My good man, we are about to now improve. But consider such proposition as this: Is 'the Holy' loved by the gods because it's piety, or is whatever's loved by the gods holy & pious?

I don't know what you mean, Socrates.

Rather, I'll try to relate it a bit more clearly. Do we say something gets carried and carries, and is led on also leading, even seen & seeing and all other such things you learn to notice—either of two things are other than each other, even how different?

I believe that, myself, I understand.

Then there is also something loved and a thing's other to this, that which does love?

Sure, why not?

Tell me whether the carried object is brought off because it is said to succeed at it, or by some other cause.

No, rather through this.

And that which is led, surely, by cause it is guided; and what is seen since it's viewed?

Yeah, OK.

Then a thing is not really seen because it is looked at, instead its opposite—since it's seen—on account of this being perceived: It is not that something guided, because of this, gets led—rather because it is led, for this reason it's referred to as guided: A thing is not carried because it gets toted, but rather as it is carried an object is borne. Is it elucidated, oh Euthyphro, what I want to convey? But I want this should mean, if something happens or happens to someone, not that whatever it is occurring simply happens, but that which happens is an event's own occurrence: What happens to someone they do not suffer, rather whatever the experience as is impression. Or do you not concur thus?

No, I do.

Therefore even that which is loved or happens is what, an occurrence experienced by somebody?

Yes I agree.

Ah!, even this then is just as the foregoing: Not because a thing is loved is it felt as love of those whom it's loved by, but because it is experienced as being loved?

It must.

Well what then are we saying about the pious, Euthyphro? But that it is whichever thing is loved by all the gods, as you argue?

Certainly.

It's because of this that thing is holy, or by some other fact?

No, it's because of this.

Oh, since it is piety it's loved—and not because it is loved—on account of this holy fact it is pious?

Apparently.

So the outcome, I guess, is as it's loved so an object cherished by the gods is also dear to them?

And how would it not?

Then what's dearly loved by the divine is not pious, dear Euthyphro, nor is piety just loved by the gods as you claim; insteatd our explanation is other than this?

How is that, Socrates?

Since we agree "the pious" gets loved because of this fact, that is, it's piety; but not that because it is loved is it pious: That right?

Agreed.

Say what's loved by gods as that which is held dear to the divine, by means of this very act in being loved, is cherished—but not because it is dear to the divine, that for this cause is loved?

Your reasons speak truth.

But if what the gods love and the holy were thing one and the same, that is piety, whether on the one hand the pious were loved by virtue of its being holy and on account of its being loved by gods it was cherished as dear to them, or on the other, because of being loved by divine gods that which the gods love they were to cherish dearly—even the pious would be holy through its being loved: And now you see how it is otherwise disposed, since they are both entirely either to each other. For in the first place, that which is loved, is which sort of thing receives affection; but conversely, the type of thing which is loved, because of this affection is dear cared for; and you, Euthyphro, happen to—in posing the question with respect to holiness, "What is piety?"—wish not to clarify the matter's substance to me, but claim there is some quality about it that piety is affected this holy state—to be loved by all beings divine: But what it is you've yet to say. So if it's beloved to you, in order you not hide it from me, rather please explain again from the top what on earth the holy is, whether it is by gods' love or some state of experience—since we will not have disagreements concerning this—instead do tell willingly what is piety and what the irreligious is?

But Socrates, I do not have any means to tell you what I bear in mind: For we have somehow gone always around what we were to be running toward and it does not want to stay somewhere we might set it down.

These statements of yours, Euthyphro, look to be those of our ancestor Dædalus. And if I were to posit explaining them as a reasonable position, perhaps you would have me as the butt of a joke on the grounds that both the effect of labored explanations shies away from me in relation to how the running argument goes and wants not to remain anywhere run might set it down: But up to now (since the suppositions are your own). Indeed, as an other point there missing joke; for they do not wish to wait for you, as you can see yourself.

Seems to me pretty nearly the same joke, Socrates, that the words you tie up are bound to lack: Because this circumlocution in them "will not stay in place,/[w]ill not stay still.", I am no inspired man; but you seem to me—you Dædalus!, since these accounts keep waiting not on my account, at least.

Then you run the risk, my friend, of becoming that much more clever than this, our forebear in terms of skilled art by such self-same extent he created his own objects so artistic they seemed to move, so do I make even another type of thing—as so it seems—not stay still in relation to my own concerns. And truly, this is the most intelligent aspect of my way, that I am unwittingly wise: Because I would prefer my statements remain words and run staying fixed motionless instead of being engaged in Dædalus' skillful knowledge made into the wealth of needy Tantalos. As if that weren't enough, since you seem a bit soft to me, I shall myself consent to show you how one may instruct me concerning holiness. And so you don't slack off: Forsooth, whether it seems required to you that what is right must be entirely just holiness.

For my part, agreed.

Then is also everything which is upright, pious? Or is the holy entirely just, and what is just right's not altogether godliness—but part of it, holy, and the rest as some thing and else?

Socrates, I'm not responding to your thoughts expressed.

And in truth, though younger than I am you are no less than smarter by that same degree of difference: But what I mean is, you are too much—by cause of riches, for wisdom. But do, you blessed soul, be prepared and intent: For really understanding what I mean to say is no difficult task. Because I argue the converse of what the poet who made poetic this verse says,

Even the man who planted all this couldn't want to blame God who
Begets everything, true: For where fear is will be respect's awe too.

So, I take this differently than the poet; tell you how?

Of course.

I don't think it means 'so that fear may be there should be shame too'—although a lot of people seem to me terrified, also scared of diseases and poverty, afraid of a great many such evils while being not one bit respectfully fearful of those things which terrify them; that seem right to you too?

Of course.

But it says where there is awe, there is also fear: Since there exists the sort of man who is god-fearing regarding some matter, and though ashamed, has not come to be frightened, or worries about no reputation of ill-repute?

So, then he is afraid.

Oh, no; this is invalid as reasoning: For where fear is will be respect's awe, too; but in order there be respectful awe even where there is fear, but not that fear be everywhere awe. What's more, I think fear is a form of awe's own.—respect, since it's a portion of fear like something too great in amount; so that it's not just where quantity is would be excess: But where is too much there must also be measure. You follow that, somewhat, now?

Absolutely.

Although even arguing such a thing begs the question: Justice's right next to also being devout? Or where devotion is pure, is there also just right; but for justice to be right, not in every case holy: But is piety just a limb from the body of right? Do we talk like this, or you think it's otherwise?

No, like thus; since you appear to reason correctly, I guess.

See closely the thing after this: Now, if the pious is moiety's share of justice, it is our need to discover truly what sort of part this takes as holiness in relation to what is just. So then, if you ask me about matters current, like of what sort is allotted when even in number and what does it happen this number would be—I'd say it were not odd, but rather equal: don't you think?

Seems right, to me.

Then you try too and in like manner show me what part of justice is spirituality so we may reasonably claim, even to Miletos, that we have not acted wrongly or been justifiably indicted for atheism; as men ostensibly have come to know quite well enough from you about things religious and reverence, also what they are not.

Well, really I think this, Socrates, portion of justice is religious doctrine in relation to dutiful service of the Gods and as relates to caring for human beings; that which remains seems a part of being just.

And you seem to me, Euthyphro, to reason quite admirably; but I still lack one little thing: For I am yet to understand service, that which you term it as. But you perhaps do not name, I'd guess, what sort of services they are and with reference to other things, like in service as to gods—our logical claim, right?—the sort of thing we say about horses: Not that every man knows how to tend to them, but that their trainer; in truth?

Does without a doubt.

Since equestrianism tends to train horses:

Yeah.

No one truly knows how to tend to dogs except the hunter who raises them.

Putting it simply.

Because hunting, no doubt, tends to graze dogs—

Sure.

And to be a cowboy, serve cattle?

Pretty much.

It indeed is both devout service and reverence of gods, Euthyphro? So you state?

I do say so.

Then every form of service, brought about the same end? Which sort of thing follows here: Assuming it as a good which assists the beneficiary, just like so you see that horses, when serviced by horsemanship, they profit and are made better.—or do they seem to you not?

I think they do.

And dogs, for example, do so gain from being tended to, and cows, and all other things as like so: Or in case of harm to the one receiving service, do you think it is true service?

My God, oh no.

But you do if it helps?

How could I not?

Then truly even religious service being gods' is both to assist them and magnify them as gods? And would you also grant one that whenever you do something pious, you cause some portion of the gods to become more holy?

By Zeus I do not!

But I don't think you, Euthyphro, are considering this—even I am quite a way off—but for this reason I also tried asking you what on earth you say service of the gods means because I didn't believe you stated as such.

And rightly so, Socrates: For I've not mentioned it much.

Well: What service of gods would be the righteous one?

The very one, Socrates, which the servants do in serving their masters.

I know; that would be, so it seems, a certain waiting on gods.

So, certainly then.

Then you might be able to say in treatment of what business the practice doctors administer happens to be service-oriented? You don't believe it's for health?

In fact I do.

And what about the work of shipbuilders? You could say to the business of what action their engineering is serviceable?

Clearly, Socrates, for the production of a boat.

Even construction workers serve to build houses?

Yup.

You great man, do say: The act of tending to gods, towards fulfillment of what effort would it be of service? For it is clear that you know, seeing as how you say you're the one who knows, it's the divine things best.

And I do speak true words, Socrates.

Then proclaim by God himself what on earth that divinely good work is which the gods make cause complete employing us as their servants?

Oh Socrates, a lot of beautiful things.

And the Generals too, my friend? But you could nonetheless quite easily say their objective is to produce victory in war: Don't you?

But how could I not?

I think farmers also accomplish a lot of splendid things: Though the sum of them is—as the finishing touch—their nourishment out of the ground.

Undoubtedly.

But what about the many, and lovely, things which the gods produce? What is the foremost summary of its production?

I told you a little earlier even, Socrates, that these things are all of a much greater labor to learn precisely how they hold true: However, I do tell you this quite simply, that if someone understands both how to pronounce things that are gratifying to the Gods and do this while praying in sacrifice, the sacred things exist in the form of these acts and such matters preserve people's own home and the public concerns of their cities; but the opposite of things which have been made acceptable are impious—they're things that subvert everything unto destruction.

Really, very true I beg of you, sincere Euthyphro, far in fewer words; if you wanted, you would've tried to say just the main point of what I asked: But no, rather you are—so clearly, too—eager to teach me. And what's more, now just when you were towards it you gave up the distinction which, had you answered,—I would have learned from you as realization what divine law purely is. Now, since the questioner must follow the inquired wherever the latter may drag him, what once again do you say the religious is and why holiness? Do you not argue it as some particular awareness of offering both sacrifice and prayer?

I gather it is.

Then you claim burnt offerings are the gods' to be offered, and that they demand prayer?

Oh very much so, Socrates.

Then understanding the gods in terms of commandment and giving ought be divinely sanctioned knowledge—by this, your argument?

Wonderfully well, oh Socrates! You understood what I said.

Because I am a lover, dear friend, of your wisdom and I have paid attention to it so that which you speak shall not fall into the dust. Instead, do assert for me what is this service to the gods? Are you saying you believe it both what they ask for and you bestow on them?

That's true, I am.

So it's not that asking appropriately can be what we beg of them; you mean they ask for these things?

But why, what?

Again the act of properly giving the things those Gods do happen to demand of us, you're saying these are given back to them in turn? But it certainly cannot be a teachable skill that offers these gifts to someone—to bring presents—which are not at all needed.

True, Socrates, you've a point.

Then the art of religious piety would be, Euthyphro, a skilled kind of trade for gods and human beings between each other?

Like commerce, if calling it so pleases you.

On the contrary, I find nothing pleasant unless it happens to be true. But tell me what advantage the gods profit by the gifts they accept from us? Since what they give to everyone is clear: For we have no good thing which would exist unless those gods grant it. And that service they receive from us, what benefit for them? Or do we get so much greater a deal than they in relation to our trade we take all that which is good from them, but they are in receipt of nothing from us?

But Socrates, you think the Gods are helped by these offerings which they take from us?

But what in the world would these things be, straight from your heart—the gifts from us for the gods?

What else do you believe it is besides honor and its reward even—what I was just, have been saying—it's grace?

Aha!, true devotion is that which given freely satisfies, Euthyphro; but isn't that assistance also dearly beloved to the gods?

I do suppose it most cherished of all—everything.

Then this, once more—as it appears to be—is piety: What wholly pleases the gods?

Absolutely certain.

Then you're astonished to utter these statements wondering if the arguments, you find, seem to go about instead of standing still and you accuse me of making them move on like Daedalus since I myself am rather a bit more skilled than Daedalus even at creating mazes that zero in? But don't you realize our conversation has just come right back around to the same point? For certain you recall previously that the pious & holy both seem not the same to us and appeared to differ from each other: Remember?

Oh I recollect.

Then you are reflecting on how you say the holy dear to gods is selfless love? And this is no-thing other than becomes true devotion—right?

Very true.

So either we just now did not agree each with the other properly or if we were, now we are putting it incorrect?

It seems...

A need, once again, to examine what the pious is from its beginning as a rule because until I know for my self, I will not back down. But don't look down on me; instead, hold your intention entirely fixed that, right this very now, you speak the truth: Now you know even if you were some person else, you are not to be dismissed as a fickle Proteus until you speak. Because if you did not know accurately about holiness and sacrilege, there is simply no way you could ever try to, on behalf of a hired hand, proceed against an old man like your dad for charge of murder; no, if that were the case you would even be so terrified of the Gods to hazard risking this—in fear that doing it you might be wrong,—and become disgraced before the people: But now you know for certain that you clearly think you know, in general, both what the religious is, what isn't. So say it, most blessed Euthyphro, and conceal not what you believe it as.

Once again, well then... But Socrates, now you're getting a bit involved; and it's time for me to go.

To do whatever you do, my friend; in leaving you ruin me—my hope, I came to great expectation that if I learned religion from you, about the impious too, I will be reconciled with the charge Miletos claims by confessing to him that I am become now wise because of Euthyphro about the heavenly as truth demonstrated even that I no longer act ignorant in speaking my mind I introduce not new ideas about the divine and above all about the rest, my life would that I might live a better one.

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