(12e-16a) Holiness is the part of justice concerned with the care of the gods. But what sort of ‘care’ do the gods require? And why? Consideration of the balance of trade sustaining the divine service industry. Return to the proposition that ‘what the gods love is pious’. Inconclusive conclusion.

E: I think, Socrates, that godliness and holiness are that part of justice concerned with the care of the gods, while the part of justice concerned with the care of men comprises the rest.

S: It seems to me you put that very well, but I still need to gather a bit more information. I don’t yet know what you mean by ‘care’, for you don’t mean ‘care of the gods’ in the same sense as ‘care’ of other things. We say, for example – don’t we? – that not everyone knows how to take care of horses, only the horse-breeder does.

E: Yes, I do mean it that way.

S: So horse breeding is the care of horses.

E: Yes.

E: Nor is it the case that everyone can care for dogs, but the hunter knows how.

E: That is so.

S: So hunting is the care of dogs.

E: Yes.

S: And cattle-raising the care of cattle.

E: Quite so.

S: While holiness and godliness is the care of the gods, Euthyphro. Is that what you mean?

E: It is.

S: Now in each case care has the same effect; it aims at benefiting and securing the good of the cared-for thing. In the case of horses cared for by horse breeders, for instance, they are the better for it. Or don’t you think so?

E: I do.

S: So dogs are benefited by dog breeding, cattle by cattle raising, and so on and so forth. Unless you have some notion that care aims at harming the thing cared for?

E: By Zeus, no.

S: It aims to benefit the object of care?

E: Of course.

S: Is holiness then – being the care of the gods – also a benefit to them, something that makes them better? Would you agree that when you do something holy you improve some one of the gods?

E: By Zeus, no!

S: I didn’t think that was what you meant – quite the contrary; and that is why I asked what you meant by ‘care of the gods’. I couldn’t believe you meant this kind of care.

E: Quite right, Socrates. I didn’t mean this kind of care at all.

S: Very well, but what kind of care of the gods would holiness be?

E: The kind of care, Socrates, that slaves take of their masters.

S: I understand. Holiness is shaping up to be a kind of service to the gods.

E: Quite so.

S: Could you tell me: what would be the point of being of service to a doctor? Wouldn’t it be the improvement of health, don’t you think?

E: I think so.

S: What about being of service to shipbuiliders? What would you be hoping to achieve?

E: Clearly, Socrates, the building of a ship.

S: And as to being of service to housebuilders: that would subserve the building of a house?

E: Yes.

S: Tell me then, my good sir, what is the point of the service men provide to gods? You obviously know since you say that you, of all men, have the most complete knowledge of divinity.

E: And I speak the truth, Socrates.

S: Tell me then, by Zeus: what excellent purpose is it that the gods achieve with the help of us, their servants?

E: Many fine things, Socrates.

S: And the same goes for generals, my friend. All the same, you would not have any trouble telling me that the main point of what they do is to achieve victory in war.

E: Of course.

S: Farmers too, I think, produce many fine things, but the main point of what they do is to bring forth goods from the earth.

E: Quite so.

S: Well then, how would you encapsulate the many fine things that the gods achieve?

E: I told you just a little while ago, Socrates, that it is no easy matter to arrive at precise knowledge of these things. Nevertheless, to put it simply, I say that if a man knows how to please the gods in word and deed – with prayer and sacrifice – then his are holy actions that support and sustain private houses and public affairs alike. The opposite of these pleasing actions are unholy, overturning and destroying everything.

S: You could save your breath if you would just tell me all and only what I asked, Euthyphro. But you are not keen to do so; that much is clear. You were on the point of teaching me, but you pulled up short. If you had given that answer, I would now stand in possession of knowledge of the nature of holiness, courtesy of you. But in the event, the lover of inquiry must chase after his beloved, wherever it may lead him. Once more then: what do you say that holiness and unholiness are? Do they consist in knowledge of how to sacrifice and pray?

E: They do.

S: To sacrifice is to give a gift to the gods, whereas to pray is to beg from them a boon?

E: Definitely, Socrates.

S: This proposition implies that holiness must be a knowledge of how to give to, and beg from, the gods,

E: You grasp well what has been said, Socrates.

S: That is because I want so badly to take in your wisdom that I concentrate my whole intellect upon it, lest a single word of yours fall to the ground. But tell me, what is this service to the gods? You say it is to beg from them and give to them?

E: I do.

S: And to beg correctly would be to ask them to give us things we need?

E: What else?

S: And to give correctly is to give them what they need from us. For it would hardly be graceful giving to provide a gift that is not needed in the least.

E: True, Socrates.

S: Holiness will then be a sort of knack for bartering between gods and men?

E: Bartering, yes – if you prefer to call it that.

S: I prefer nothing, except the truth. But tell me, what good do the gifts the gods receive from us do them? What they give us is obvious enough. There is no good we enjoy that does not come from them. But how is their lot improved by what they receive from us? Or have we negotiated such an advantageous balance of trade that we get all their blessings, while they get nothing back in return?

E: Do you really think, Socrates, that the gods receive some benefit from what they get from us?

S: What else could these gifts from us to the gods be, Euthyphro?

E: What else, indeed, except for honor, reverence, and that thing I mentioned just now, gratitude?

S: Holiness, then, is pleasing to the gods, Euthyphro, but not
beneficial or dear to them?

E: I think of all things it is most dear to them.

S: So the holy is once again what is dear to the gods.

E: Most certainly.

S: Will you be surprised if, even as you say this, your arguments exhibit signs of moving around instead of staying put. And will you accuse me of being the Daedalus who makes them move – though you yourself are far more skillful than Daedalus, since you can actually make things run around a complete circle? But maybe you haven’t noticed how our argument has revolved and come right back where it started. You surely remember how, a little while ago, holiness and god-belovedness were said to be not one thing but distinct things. Or don’t you remember?

E: I do.

S: Don’t you see that now you are saying that what is dear to the gods is what is holy? Is this the same as what is loved by the gods, or isn’t it?

E: It certainly is.

S: Either we were wrong about what we agreed to before, or – if we were right then – we’re wrong now.

E: That seems to be so.

S: So we have to begin again at the very beginning, investigating what holiness is. And I won’t willingly give up before I figure it out. Don’t think me unworthy; instead, concentrate your attention to a supreme degree and tell the truth. For you know this thing, if any man does, and so I will clutch you as tightly as if you were Proteus himself, until you tell me. If you had no clear knowledge of holiness and unholiness, you would hardly have been so rash as to prosecute your dear old dad for murder on behalf of a servant. Fear of the gods would have restrained you from taking such a risk of acting wrongly. So I definitely know that you believe you have clear knowledge of holiness and unholiness. So tell me, my good Euthyphro, and don’t keep secret what you think it is.

E: Some other time, Socrates. I am in a hurry, and I really have to go now.

S: What a thing to do, my friend! By leaving you cast me down from my high hope of learning from you the nature of holiness and unholiness. I might have escaped Meletus' indictment by exhibiting to him my wisdom – courtesy of Euthyphro – concerning divine matters. Ignorance would no longer have made me sloppy and improvisational about such things, and my whole life might have been lived the better for it.

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