The Four Virtues

It was long ago now that Hercules came to the crossroads.
At a quiet intersection in the hills of Greece, in the shade of knobby pine
trees, the great hero of Greek myth first met his destiny.
Where exactly it was or when, no one knows. We hear of this moment in
the stories of Socrates. We can see it captured in the most beautiful art of
the Renaissance. We can feel his budding energy, his strapping muscles, and
his anguish in the classic Bach cantata. If John Adams had had his way in
1776, Hercules at the crossroads would have been immortalized on the
official seal of the newly founded United States.
Because there, before the man’s undying fame, before the twelve labors,
before he changed the world, Hercules faced a crisis, one as life-changing
and real as any of us have ever faced.
Where was he headed? Where was he trying to go? That’s the point of
the story. Alone, unknown, unsure, Hercules, like so many, did not know.
Where the road diverged lay a beautiful goddess who offered him every
temptation he could imagine. Adorned in finery, she promised him a life of
ease. She swore he’d never taste want or unhappiness or fear or pain.
Follow her, she said, and his every desire would be fulfilled.
On the other path stood a sterner goddess in a pure white robe. She made
a quieter call. She promised no rewards except those that came as a result of
hard work. It would be a long journey, she said. There would be sacrifice.
There would be scary moments. But it was a journey fit for a god. It would
make him the person his ancestors meant him to be.
Was this real? Did it really happen?
If it’s only a legend, does it matter?
Yes, because this is a story about us.
About our dilemma. About our own crossroads.
For Hercules, the choice was between vice and virtue, the easy way and
the hard way, the well-trod path and the road less traveled. We all face this
choice.