The great Russian-Jewish philosopher Lev Shestov puts the problem this way in his work Athens and Jerusalem.
The Creator of the world has Himself become subordinate to Necessity which He created and which, without at all seeking or desiring it has become the sovereign of the universe. . . We must try to stand up against Necessity itself, try to free the living and feeling Parmenides from dead and altogether indifferent power.14
While searching for meaning can lead us terribly astray and indeed create terrible havoc, living purposively represents the essence of a biblical approach to life. My own work argues this very point and offers a biblically based psychotherapy as an antidote to the suicide crisis in contemporary society.15 Perhaps the very term “suicide prevention” is often too negative, too little, and too late. What seems much more effective is a culture of “life promotion,” where people grow up validating life and not death, living life purposively rather than in an endless search for meaning that too often can lead to destructive behaviors, even suicide.
Before we pursue this question in more detail, let us discuss a curious phenomenon that has emerged in America (and indeed much of the Western world over the last twenty-five years): a dramatic increase in the popularity of running marathons. This has occurred despite the publication of medical articles reporting on injuries to runners of all experience, with yearly incidence rates for injury reported by Fredericson and Misra16 in 2007 to be as high as 90 percent in those training for marathons.
For example, one study in 1998 by Marti and his associates17 reports survey results indicating that of 4,358 male joggers studied during the course of a year, 45.8 percent had sustained at least one injury. They strongly suggest a healthy regimen lies in the range of 10–25 kilometers per week. Macera and her associates18 issue similar warnings in 1991, indicating that male marathon runners were almost twice as likely to report lower extremity musculoskeletal problems in the month after the race, and female marathon runners were four times more likely to report such problems.
More recent research articles also point to potential dangers in the running of marathons. In 2014 Saragiotto et. al. report a review of 4,671 pooled participants which pointed to previous injury within the last twelve months prior to their running as the major risk factor for subsequent injury.19 Nathan reports the results of a questionnaire study indicating a significant association (p < .003) between running time and injury while running the 2012 London Marathon. Runners who completed the marathon in less than four hours were less likely to sustain an injury than those finishing in greater than four hours.20 Perhaps those runners finishing in less time were better trained or more physically fit to begin with.
Tellingly, Nathan in 2013 points out the dramatic increase in the popularity and participation in marathons noted by Fredericson and Misra and suggests, “it would be interesting to consider what the reason for this increase may be.” And we echo this question: “Where does the idea of the marathon race come from?”
The Run of Pheidippides
The marathon derives from the story of Pheidippides (530–490 BCE), an Athenian herald or “courier”21 who was sent to Sparta to request help when the Persians landed at Marathon, Greece. Whether this actually took place is debated by scholars. But in any case, here is the basic story. Athenian runner Pheidippides ran about 240 kilometers (150 miles) in two days to ask the Spartans for help against Persian invaders. He seems to have failed in his request, but his run is completely understandable, and laudable. But then we come to more perplexing part of the story. Pheidippides then runs 40 kilometers (25 miles) from the battlefield near Marathon to Athens to announce the Greek victory over Persia in the Battle of Marathon (490 BCE) with the exclamation “We win!” in Greek. He then collapses and dies. On the surface, this story seems to be very heroic. In fact, the English poet Robert Browning gives us a highly romanticized version of the story in his 1879 poem Pheidippides, equating his death (joy bursting his heart) with bliss.
So, when Persia was dust, all cried, “To Acropolis!
Run, Pheidippides, one race more! the meed is thy due!
Athens is saved, thank Pan, go shout!” He flung down his shield
Ran like fire once more: and the space ‘twixt the fennel-field
And Athens was stubble again, a field which a fire runs through,
Till in he broke: “Rejoice, we conquer!” Like wine through clay,
Joy in his blood bursting his heart,—the bliss.22
And this brings us to a perplexing part of the story. Why did the Greek Pheidippides push himself beyond his endurance to be the first to announce the Greek victory over the Persians? The Greeks had defeated the Persians at Marathon. Why was he driven to be the first to announce this news? On the surface, it did not have any obvious instrumental value. The Greeks had won. What gain did the Greeks in Athens derive from receiving this knowledge immediately, as opposed to the next day? Their forces had been victorious at Marathon—they had defeated the Persians. And even if the Greeks had received some benefit from immediate knowledge of their victory at Marathon,23 why did not Pheidippides ride on a horse? And even if there was a compelling reason for this, why is Pheidippides’ clearly physically dangerous act valorized to this day, with people all over the world training in an attempt to emulate this act, despite, as mentioned above, the documented medical risks attendant to it?
We cannot avoid the interpretation that this ancient story fed into the ancient Greek sense of the heroic. In his superb book The Glory of Hera: Greek Mythology and the Greek Family, Phillip Slater tells us much of interest about the ancient Greeks and perhaps modern Western life. The Greeks were as creative a people as have ever lived and seemed to search for meaning in everything they did. They were not content with living simple lives but oftentimes took on gargantuan tasks which resulted in a great deal of upheaval and unpleasantness and oftentimes to disaster. Slater puts it this way: “The Greeks were quarrelsome as friends, treacherous as neighbors, brutal as masters, faithless as servants, shallow as lovers—all of which was in part redeemed by their intelligence and creativity.”24
And much of contemporary Western society seems to be acting exactly like these ancient Greeks, looking for exaggerated activities, often quite dangerous and self-destructive, to find meaning in otherwise empty lives. They are willing to do this even to the point of risking their own health and even at times their lives. And running marathons is a prime example of this phenomenon even though it can be detrimental to one’s health, as the medical evidence previously cited by Fredericson and Misra clearly suggests. But running the marathon is not unique in this regard. A good number of people engage in quite dangerous activities in an attempt to gain a sense of accomplishment, indeed meaning, missing in their everyday lives, which seem to be empty of purpose. Mindlessly emulating Pheidippides’ run seems a prime example of this. And even if Pheidippides’ action did have a specific purpose, rather than reflect an amorphous need for meaning, why did he not ride a horse as did Paul Revere. We will examine Paul Revere’s story now.
The Ride of Paul Revere
Paul Revere was a silversmith, engraver, early industrialist, and patriot in the American Revolution against Britain. He was obviously not an ancient Greek, but a biblical man, by all accounts a fairly typical early New England Christian. Paul Revere seemed to have been a regular attendee in Boston’s New Brick Church and was most likely quite familiar with stories in the Hebrew Bible and in the Christian New Testament.
Paul Revere is best known for his midnight ride to alert the colonial militia in April 1775 to the approach of British forces before the battles of Lexington and Concord, as dramatized in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem, Paul Revere’s Ride. He did not seem to be searching for meaning. Rather, his action had a purpose. Most importantly, Paul Revere did not die, nor did he push himself beyond his endurance.
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of