I believe we owe a great debt to our teachers. I've come to this conclusion after a little conflict within myself. The reason for this conflict was two-fold:
1) Is it not my teachers who often cause me to feel foolish, who challenge my most cherished convictions, who show me again and again how ignorant I am, who refuse to give me any comfort?
My teacher is therefore my enemy.
2) Is it not my teachers who remind me that I haven't "arrived," that there is still work to be done, who guide me and illuminate my path?
My teacher is therefore my friend.
The conflict dissipates when one transforms the moral-ontological field on which Reason #1 is premised so that it reads thus:
1) My foolishness is based on ignorance, many of my cherished convictions have remained unanalyzed and assumed, my comfort is derrived from a false sense of self-assuredness and self-righteousness, all of which are challenged by my teacher.
My teacher is therefore a god.
[For the weak of heart I will add: This is not the Christian or Muslim conception of a divine who commits no error. This is the ancient Jewish divine who not only falls short of his design, but regrets too his own blundering. Here is a god who also learns and is therefore qualified to teach.]
To the keepers of the Idea: the Immortal
My teachers.
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