What mortality means

 Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life.

-- John 6:27 

For there is no remembrance of the wise more than of the fool for ever; seeing that which now is in the days to come shall all be forgotten. And how dieth the wise man? as the fool.

-- Ecclesiastes 2:16 

All men are mortal.
Socrates is a man.
Therefore, Socrates is mortal.

-- every logic textbook ever written

The convention of using the name "Socrates" when giving an example of a logical syllogism is, of course, entirely arbitrary. Any other name would have done as well. So, for that matter, would predicates other than "is a man" and "is mortal." Nevertheless, allow me to proceed on the conceit that whoever first came up with that now-hackneyed example (not, as you might assume, Aristotle; perhaps Mill) was inspired.

⁂

Once there was a man who liked nothing better than the feeling of heroin coursing through his veins. So he shot himself up with gobs of the stuff, died in short order, and that was the end of him. Those few moments of inexpressibly intense pleasure he had enjoyed were gone as if they had never existed.

⁂

There was another man, wiser than the first. Realizing that the short-sighted hedonism of the junkie leads only to suffering and death, he pursued an enlightened hedonism of the sort advocated by the likes of Epicurus, Lucretius, and their many modern-day epigones. He led a measured, responsible life, ever mindful of his health, and enjoyed the civilized pleasures of gardening, long walks in the park, and the jovial (but not too jovial) company of good friends.

Then, like the junkie, he died. His friends mourned him briefly, as is fitting, but naturally not to excess, and in very little time normal life resumed just as if the enlightened hedonist had never been born -- or, come to think of it, just as if he had been a junkie.

⁂

A  third man, wiser still, understood that even a good life ends in death, and so he focused his efforts on those who would survive him. He had many children, loved them, raised and educated them well, and worked hard to leave them a generous inheritance. They, for their part, loved and honored him, as did the many grandchildren he lived to see.

He died, too, of course, but he lived on the hearts of his offspring, who would often tell stories of their father and grandfather -- what a good man he had been, how much he had taught them, how he had made them what they were. But eventually all those who had known him died as well, and then all those who had known them. The stories ceased to be told, his name was forgotten, and with each succeeding generation his influence for good became increasingly diluted and diffuse and hard to identify. A few short centuries later, it was as if he had never lived at all.

⁂

A fourth, even wiser man, strove to live on forever in the hearts of his people. A just and benevolent man, brave and determined and endowed with great charisma, he united the tribes into a great nation. He made laws, founded cities, made the wilderness blossom as a rose, subdued their belligerent neighbors, and ushered in a golden age of art, industry, learning, and peace. When he died, his people, his cities, his laws, all lived on and flourished. His likeness and memory were to be found throughout the country. He was venerated almost as a god. The dates of his birth and death became public holidays. His name passed into the language as the name of his country and people, and eventually even as a common noun meaning "king."

But now that people has vanished from the face of the earth, their cities have crumbled to dust, and their once-fruitful land is desert once more. Their laws and institutions have been forgotten, and the language in which the name of their king had been immortalized is extinct. As for the king himself, he is still known to a few archaeological specialists, who may recognize his name as one of those that survives on a fragmentary list of kings. Its etymology and pronunciation are a matter of conjecture. The birth and death dates given are obviously fanciful. He is generally assumed to be entirely mythical.

⁂

We come at last to the wisest of all, whose legacy -- being spiritual and intellectual in nature -- is of such universal significance as to have survived the fall of more than one civilization, and who may well be remembered for as long as the human race persists. He founded not a kingdom or a school of thought but philosophy itself -- to such an extent that all those who came before are lumped together in a sort of prologue to the subject. His influence on all subsequent thought has been incalculable, and some two and a half millenia after his death, his is still a household name the world over, and he is remembered for his wisdom and integrity. And when a logician needs a name, any name, to use as an example in a syllogism, it is his that springs most readily to mind.

But he, too, is mortal, and there will come a time when even his legacy -- enormous by human standards, minuscule by cosmic ones -- will have vanished without a trace. Perhaps it will be when the human species goes extinct, or evolve into something unrecognizable. Perhaps it will be when a sufficiently large asteroid finally smites the Earth, blasting its oceans and atmosphere out into space and leaving the solar system with a second Mars, or when the inner planets are swallowed up into an expanding Sun -- or perhaps, as much as we might like to think otherwise, it will be considerably sooner than any of that. But, be it sooner or later, come that day will, and death, the great leveler, will have made him the equal of the junkie.

⁂

People who believe in mortality -- truly believe in it -- but who deny that it makes their lives meaningless, haven't thought things through. Yes, mortality absolutely does make your life meaningless. If mortality is for real, it won't make the slightest difference in the end whether you were a saint or a serial killer or some schmuck who spent all his time playing video games. No difference at all.

So ask yourself, which are you more sure of: that it does matter how you live your life, or that mortality is the last word?