I am writing this article for Memorial Day and all that it represents. It is a time set aside for reflecting on the debt we owe to those who came before us and fought, struggled, and died in defending the values and privileges we often take for granted. On this day of remembrance we should also honor our parents and grandparents who cooperated in giving us life.

Finally, I would like to express gratitude to those ingenious benefactors who provided me with more mundane benefits than I can possible enumerate, such as indoor plumbing, central heating, electricity, restaurants, musical halls, sports arenas, the automobile, and, of course, the computer. Memorial Day is an occasion for thinking seriously and appreciatively about the virtue of piety, the thanks we owe to all who have contributed to making our lives more livable.

The philosopher George Santayana once said that “A soul is but the last bubble of a long fermentation process in the world.” “This consciousness,” he went on to say, “that the human spirit is derived and responsible, that all its functions are heritages and trusts, involves a sentiment we may call piety.”

Piety was a favorite virtue of Socrates. Far from considering himself a self-made man, the gadfly of Athens gave full credit for whatever civility he enjoyed to those who preceded him. Ralph Waldo Emerson, by contrast, America’s head cheerleader for the man of self-reliance, spoke of “the sovereign individual, free, self-reliant, and alone in his greatness.” Emerson’s belief in the “greatness” of the individual is a dangerous illusion. It is a presumption that naturally leads to pride.

In a very real sense, America’s democratic spirit owes far more to Socrates than it does to Emerson. “Greatness” is never a purely individual accomplishment. Its roots are always in others and in times past.

Sir Isaac Newton, with appropriate piety, saw himself as a mere “pygmy,” but having the decisive advantage of standing on the shoulders of “giants.” Albert Einstein stated, in rather moving prose, “A hundred times every day I remind myself that my inner and outer lives are based on the labors of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself in order to give in the same measure as I have received and am still receiving.”

Some time ago, students presented me with a fine pewter dish bearing the inscription, “A wise man’s teaching is a life-giving fountain.” I have no claim to being a wise teacher, but the thought that I may have had some positive influence on some of my students and that their attitude toward me was one of piety, is most consoling. We all find ourselves indebted to more people than we can realize. Who can possibly give more than he has received? But to think that one has taken his place in the continuum of time and has passed the torch to another generation is of great consolation.

“Thanks, I owe you one,” is a commonplace expression. The beneficiary of a favor reciprocates to even the score. Piety, however, can never erase the debt. What we owe to our predecessors goes far beyond our ability to counterbalance. “Evening the score” belongs properly to the world of sports. The virtue of piety, therefore, leads to a sense of humility. We cannot even the score, but we can be part of the great community of mankind and give what we can.

The main enemy of piety is individualism. No one begins his life sui generis. Our beginning coincides with a debt. Piety requires us to be grateful to our ancestors. It sharpens our sense of duty to give what we have so that we can benefit our descendants as they have benefited us.

“Piety,” said Cicero, “is justice towards the gods,” and “the foundation of all virtues.” By extension, piety is the just recognition of all we owe to those who came before us.

Plato was clearly one of the greatest philosophers who ever lived. Yet, he never wrote specifically about his own views. Though he wrote many lengthy and elaborate works in which he raised virtually every conceivable philosophical issue, he left it to others, especially his beloved Socrates, to be his mouthpiece.

The explanation for this, as scholars have pointed out, is that Plato was acutely aware that he was living, in a “post-war” society that had survived its own day of greatness. In recreating the mind of the principal 5^th century BC philosopher and the circle in which he moved, he was expressing his duty in piety to Socrates, to the perished splendors of Athens, and to the notable Athenian family to which he belonged.

Memory recalls great moments past. A memorial enshrines them. A day of memorial is an occasion for collective reflection, tributes, and thanksgiving.

Piety, by honoring what poured out from the past to become our own living substance, enlarges and enriches us. It disposes us to give thanks and to live in such a manner that we ourselves may one day become worthy objects for the pious gratitude of others.

Dr. Donald DeMarco is a Senior Fellow of Human Life International. He is professor emeritus at St. Jerome’s University in Waterloo, Ontario, an adjunct professor at Holy Apostles College in Cromwell, CT, and a regular columnist for St. Austin Review. His latest works, How to Remain Sane in a World That is Going Mad and Poetry That Enters the Mind and Warms the Heart are available through Amazon.com.

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