Socrates Part Two— The Socratic Method — How to Win a Soul, Not an Argument.

Episode Notes: 

Socrates Part Two— The Socratic Method — How to Win a Soul, Not an Argument.

Welcome to our second step in our four-part journey through the life and legacy of Socrates.  

Last time, we met the man himself: the barefoot stonemason who wandered Athens like a holy irritant, waking people up from their moral sleep. We heard about his courage in battle, the simplicity of his life, his strange inner voice, and his relentless devotion to understanding the soul.

 But today, we turn to the thing that made Socrates truly unforgettable.  — His method.

 Because Socrates didn’t teach the way anyone expected. He didn’t write books, he didn’t give lectures and he didn’t stand on a platform and deliver speeches. He didn’t even claim to have answers. Instead, he asked questions. And those questions had a way of slipping under any layer of pride, exposing contradictions, revealing hidden assumptions, and gently dismantling the illusions some people lived by.

His method was not about cleverness; it was about clarity. And that is why the Sophists feared him, but it is also why the young adored him, and it is why the powerful would eventually condemn him.

In this episode, we explore the heart of that method, the art of questioning that changed Western thought forever.

 We’ll look at:

•  The Elenchus, the name for Socrates’ gentle but relentless cross‑examination.
• Socratic irony, his habit of pretending ignorance to reveal ignorance.
• His midwife metaphor, where he says he tries to help other people “give birth” to ideas

Socrates believed that the examined life is the only life worth living. He believed that the soul is shaped through honest questioning. He believed that exposing ignorance is an act of love. He believed that wisdom begins with humility.

 So today, we step into the marketplace of Athens, where Socrates stands barefoot, smiling gently, ready to ask the kind of questions that make even the most confident citizen suddenly unsure of his own shoe size.

Transcript

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Socrates Part 2: The Socratic Method. How to win a soul, not an argument. Welcome to my second step in my four-part journey through the life and legacy of Socrates. Now, last time we met the man himself, the barefoot stonemason, who wandered Athens like a holy itinerant, waking people up from their moral sleep, he would say. We heard about his courage in battle, the simplicity of his life, his strange inner voice, and his relentless devotion to trying to understand the human soul. But today we turn to the thing that made Socrates truly unforgettable, his method. Because Socrates didn't teach the way anyone expected. He didn't write books, he didn't give lectures, he didn't stand on a platform and deliver speeches, he didn't even claim to have answers himself. Instead, he simply asked questions. And those questions had a way of slipping under the layer, under any layer of pride, exposing contradictions, revealing hidden assumptions, and gently dismantling the very illusions that some people live by. Now Socrates didn't defeat people, he more in a sense disarmed them. He didn't humiliate, he was always trying to illuminate. He didn't win arguments, but he did win people over to his way of thinking or to help them discover a new way of thinking in themselves. His method was not about being clever, it was about clarity. It was not about having victory, it was about seeking virtue, and it was not about the performance of the speaker, it was about their transformation. And this is the very reason the sophists feared him, but it was also the very same reason that the young of Athens adored him and why the powerful would eventually condemn him. In today's episode, we're going to explore the heart of that method, the Socratic method, the art of questioning, an art that changed Western thought forever. We look at what is called the Alincus, the name for Socrates' gentle but relentless cross-examination. We'll also look at Socratic irony, his habit of pretending ignorance in order to reveal ignorance in others, and his use of the midwife metaphor, where he says he tries to help other people give birth to ideas. And we'll also maybe get a glimpse of why the young people followed him a bit like a philosophical Pied Piper, and why the powerful found him so dangerous, and why his method is not just intellectual gymnastics that some will say had personified the era that he emerged out from, but that it was actually almost a form of moral therapy for people. And woven through it all is a theme that any Christian listeners listening today will recognise, and I think recognise immediately and deeply that truth is not something we perform. It is something that at least forms in us, and indeed Christians we'd say can transform us. Socrates believed that the examined life is the only life worth living. He believed that the soul is shaped through honest questioning, and he believed that exposing ignorance in people is actually an act of love. He believed that wisdom also always begins with humility. So today we're going to step into the marketplace of Athens where Socrates stands barefoot, smiling gently, ironically perhaps, ready to ask the kind of questions that make even the most confident citizen suddenly unsure of even their own shoe size. This episode is the Socratic method: how to win a soul instead of an argument. Let's begin. So the Olynchus, the art of questioning. If yesterday's episode introduced to Socrates the man, then today we're introduced to Socrates by his method, and at the heart of that method is a deceptively simple technique with a slightly intimidating name. The Olynchus. In Greek it means the cross-examination, the testing, or even the refutation. But don't let the name fool you. The Olynchus is not a courtroom interrogation, it's more like a gentle intellectual sort of chiropractic adjustment to your mental posture. Socrates pressing here, nudging there, until your assumptions slot into the right place. How it works, and many say it does work, and it works well because we use it to this day. The Olympus always begins the same way. Socrates asks someone, sometimes a politician, a poet, a craftsman, a general even, to define a particular virtue. For example, what is courage, what is justice, what is piety, what is the good life? The person may be confident and slightly flattered, offer an answer. Socrates nods politely, then he asks a follow-up question, and then another, and another, and another. Within minutes, the confidence of the citizen might begin to wobble. The definitions they're offering are now seen to contradict themselves. Their examples don't match their original principle. Their assumptions begin to unravel a bit like a badly knitted jumper. Socrates will never raise his voice during this discussion. He never mocks, he never even lectures. He simply continues to ask questions until the person realizes that what they thought they knew maybe they didn't actually know. It's like someone confidently walking up to a doorway only to discover it's a mirror. Let me try and offer a slightly humorous example, but only because I believe that's is what Socrates himself would have done and approved of. Imagine Socrates meeting a proud Athenian general. Socrates asks the general, what is courage? The general replies, courage is standing your ground in battle. Socrates even when it's foolish? The General Well no. Socrates, so courage is not standing your ground. General No it is except when it isn't. So courage is knowing when to stand and when not to stand. Yes. And how does one know that? By being courageous. So courage then requires knowledge, at which the general probably says, You know what? I think I need to take a break. This is an example of the Olynchus in action, not humiliation, it's a sort of what we would call today a drilling down to try and access the real truth, revelation actually for the person who is subject to this discussion. Socrates is not trying to win here, he's trying in his mind to heal that person, heal them of their false beliefs. And he believes this because he believes that wrongdoing actually comes from ignorance, and ignorance hides beneath unexamined assumptions, and exposing those assumptions are in fact an act of love. Clarity, he argues, is the beginning of virtue. So, in many ways, the Olympus is described by some as a sort of moral therapy, a sort of spiritual surgery. It's the ancient equivalent of a deep, uncomfortable but necessary counselling session. And this is where Christian listeners might feel some resonance. We hear in scriptures it say, Search me, O God, and know my heart, see if there is any offensive way in me. Socrates, I suspect, might have nodded vigorously if he heard that. The Olympus method clears the ground for us. It does not give us the actual answers, it just clears away some of the false ones. It's the intellectual equivalent of weeding a garden, pulling out the contradictions, exposing the roots, clearing the soil and preparing the ground for the seed of truth to grow. Socrates believed that before you can plant wisdom you have to uproot illusion, and the elinctus method is his spade. But why did it annoy people? Well it annoyed them perhaps because it changed them. The elinctus is uncomfortable. It makes people realise that they know less than they thought. It will puncture pride, it will expose pretense, and it reveals the gap between appearance and reality. No wonder the sophists disliked him so much, no wonder the powerful feared him, and no wonder the young adored him. Because although the elinctus was not a weapon, it was indeed a mirror. And once you can really see yourself, you cannot really go back to ignorance, can you? The Christian perspective added that as the gospel was fully revealed, it would contend that the man or woman in the mirror was in reality fallen from grace and out of the will of God until God Himself provided the antidote of his Son Christ Jesus. Now the Olymptus lives on in therapy, in law, in education, in discipleship, in every honest conversation when someone asks another person, is that really true? It teaches humility, clarity, and it invites personal transformation. Now if the elinctus is the engine of Socrates' method, then Socratic irony is the fuel that keeps it running smoothly. It is also one of the most misunderstood but most brilliant features of his teaching, I think. And no, it's not irony in the modern sense, there's no sense of sarcasm or snarkiness here. Socrates wasn't rolling his eyes at people, he wasn't being clever for the sake of clever. Socratic irony is something far more supple, far more strategic, and far more disarming. It is to know that I know nothing. This is the line that everyone remembers. It is the ancient world's most famous declaration of humility, but here's the twist. Socrates did know things. He knew how to reason, he knew how to expose contradictions, and he knew how to guide people towards clarity. He knew how to live a virtuous life by his own standards. So what does he mean? He means I do not possess the kind of knowledge that you think you possess. He refuses to claim certainty about things that cannot be known for certain. He refuses to pretend, he refuses to posture, and this refusal is precisely what exposes the pretense of some others. Socratic irony works like this. Socrates approaches someone who claims to know something important, like justice, about courage, piety, virtue, those sorts of things. And he praises them, and then he asks them to teach him. They confidently begin explaining what they know, and Socrates listens, nods, and asks those gentle questions, and slowly their confidence might collapse under its own weight. They realize they don't know what they thought they knew. Socrates never says you're wrong, he simply lets people discover that for themselves. It's like watching someone walk into a room full of mirrors and suddenly realize the problem isn't the mirrors, it's their lack of perspective. Another slightly humorous example, because Socrates is said to have loved a smile. Imagine Socrates meeting some proud Athenian poet. The poet says, I write about the gods and I understand divine matters. Wonderful. Teach me then what is piety? Piety is honouring the god. Excellent. And what is honor? Well honour is um being honourable. So piety is then honouring honour? No, no, that's not it. Then perhaps you could explain it more clearly for me. The poet at this point might say I just need to lie down and take a break and think about this. This is Socratic irony at work. Gentle, slightly humorous, but devastating in effect. Socrates' irony is not manipulation, it is actually a form of humility in action. Socrates refuses himself to claim knowledge that he doesn't have. He refuses to pretend to be wise, he refuses to play the role of some expert. This humility is what actually gives him his moral authority. It also is what makes him different from the sophists who claim to teach everything from virtue to politics in order to help people win arguments pretty much at the ancient equivalent of a dinner party. And Socrates says, I don't know myself, let's try and find out the truth together. And here again, Christian listeners may feel the seed of a new idea, a resonance, psychotic irony is a form of self-emptying, a refusal to boast, a willingness to be small, a commitment to truth over personal ego, and it echoes the wisdom we find in Proverbs. With humility comes wisdom, it teaches us there, and indeed the teachings of Jesus Himself, who said, Whoever humbles himself will be exalted. Socratic irony is not a trick, it's a posture, it's a way of approaching truth with reverence and humility. Now people expected philosophers to lecture, but Socrates he just asked questions. People expected their teachers to boast about their knowledge. Socrates confessed ignorance of whatever it was he was discussing, and people expected people to have arguments. Socrates instead offered a simple gentle curiosity. This is what disarmed people. It lowered their defences and made them open to examination, and it made the powerful feel deeply uncomfortable as well, because nothing is more threatening to false authority than a humble man asking difficult, honest questions. So why this type of irony still matters today? Well, Socratic irony teaches us to hold our convictions but hold them with humility, to question our assumptions, to resist the temptation to posture and to approach truth with reverence, and let go of any need to try and appear wise. That is the beginning of wisdom. It is also an antidote to a posture of arrogance. It is the posture instead of a soul that is simply seeking the truth, not the applause of other. Now, if the elinctus is Socrates' scalpel and irony his bedside manner, then the next image is the heart of his method, the metaphor that reveals not just how he taught, but why he taught the way he did. Socrates believed he was a sort of midwife, not literally, of course, but spiritually, intellectually, and morally. His mother, Phenenerite, was a real midwife, a woman who helped bring new life into the world. Socrates was said to have adored her, respected her, and saw in her work a profound picture of what he believed he was called to do. My mother brings children into the world, he said. I bring ideas. I myself am barren of wisdom, but I help others give birth to whatever is within them. This is one of the most beautiful metaphors in the entire history of philosophy. Socrates does not see himself as a teacher who deposits knowledge into the empty minds of his students. He sees himself as a midwife who helps others bring forth the truth already stirring with their souls. He himself cannot give them wisdom and he cannot force them to understand what he's saying or even implant ideas. He can only ask, he can only guide, he can only encourage and challenge, as well as help deliver the truth that they already carry. And this is where Socrates differs radically from the sophists of his day. The sophists sold knowledge, Socrates midwife it, birthed it. The sophists equipped people with clever arguments, but Socrates tried to empty people of their false beliefs. The sophists ultimately taught about intellectual performance, but Socrates taught something deeper, inner transformation. For Socrates, truth was not something you could or should purchase. It was something that you worked for, you wrestled with. It is something you bring forth through struggle, humanity, humility, and honest self-examination. A windwife does not create the child, does she? She simply helps the mother through the process. Likewise, Socrates did not create the wisdom that he knew was out there. He helped others discover it. His tools are questions, gentle pressure where appropriate, careful listening, and the courage sometimes to simply let the silence do its work. He knows that people resist truth when it is imposed, but embrace it when they discover it themselves. Let me give you another lighthearted example. Imagine Socrates helping a young Athenian define justice. Young Athenian states, justice is giving people what they deserve. A noble thought, says Socrates. And what do people deserve? Well, good people deserve good things. And bad people, as Socrates. Bad things, I suppose. So justice is harming bad people. No, no, that can't be right, says the young Athenian. Then perhaps you are carrying a different idea. Let's see if we can bring it forth. This is an example of his midwifery in action. And note it's not confrontation, but coaxing, not domination, but an attempt to discover. And here is where some of you listening might find a deeper spiritual echo. Socrates' midwifery resonates with the Christian conviction that truth is not merely external, but that wisdom is formed from within. Christians believe that the Spirit guides, convicts, and eliminates, and that transformation is an inner work, and that the teacher is a helper, not a master. Socrates' method honors the dignity of the individual human soul. He believes that every person carries the seeds of truth. They simply need help bringing them to light, to fruit. The midwife metaphor reveals the heart of Socrates, his humble, patient, and gentle posture. He is committed to winning the soul. He is committed to working with others, and he believes that truth is really worth the struggle. He's not some sort of sage dispensing wisdom from on high. He is positioning himself as a companion walking beside you, helping you discover what you already half knew but never fully articulate. The midwife ultimately prepares the way. But the time someone has gone through the Olynchus and experienced Socratic irony and wrestled with their own assumptions, they are only then ready, truly ready to give birth to a clearer, deeper understanding, and it is at this point when Socrates stepped back and smiles and says, You see, the truth was within you all along. This is the heart of his method, and this is why he changed lives, and this is why he changed Athens, and some would say this is also why he changed the world. However, if you really want to understand the impact of the Socratic method, don't start with philosophers, start with the teenagers because in Athens Socrates had a following, a fan base we might call it today, made up of the brightest, most curious, and most restless young men in the city. They followed him everywhere, through the marketplace, sat at his feet, in the gymnasium, and trailed behind him like he was a sort of philosophical pied piper. And the reason why they did this is simple it was because Socrates made them think, not in the way the sophists did, teaching them polished speeches and charging for expensive lessons, but in a way that felt alive, dangerous even, and always deeply personal. Young Athenians were said to adore Socrates because he treated them as capable of discovering and of expressing wisdom. He asked them real questions, he challenged them to examine their lives, and he refused to flatter them. He cared about them, he cared about their souls more than the status, and he modelled a life of integrity and simplicity. Ultimately, he made philosophy feel like an adventure for them. But he didn't lecture them, he didn't patronize them, and he didn't sell them anything. He simply invited them into a conversation that felt like a sort of waking up. And for a young person in a city that was obsessed with wealth, beauty and reputation, I'm sure it was an intoxicating mix. But what the young people found liberating, of course, the powerful found unsettling, because Socrates had an habit of asking awkward questions in public places, questions that exposed the cracks in the confidence that people held for politicians, generals, poets, even, craftsmen, and the religious authorities, anyone who claimed to know what they did not know. Now he didn't set out to embarrass him, but the truth has a way of embarrassing those who rely on appearances. Socrates has been compared to sort of like a moral X-ray machine. Stand near him long enough and the inner structures will become visible. Socrates described himself as a gadfi, that little creature that keeps a great horse from falling asleep. Athens, he said, was like that, noble but sluggish, and he was the sting that kept it awake. But here's the thing about gadflies, they rarely appreciate they are rarely appreciated by the horses they sting. The powerful saw him as disruptive and disrespectful, and also thought he was destabilizing and was a dangerous influence on the young. Not because he was sort of violent or radical, but because the very reason because he made people think, and thinking is dangerous in society built on reputation, tradition, and political power, political theatre even. So another light hearted example. Imagine a proud politician boasting in the marketplace. The politician might say I in I alone know what is best for Athens. Splendid, then tell me what is justice? Justice is well justice. And what makes justice? The politician might back down and say, Well, I have another appointment to go to. This is why the powerful feared him. He didn't attack them, he simply revealed them for who you were. You see, the real threat was the fact that Socrates, in a sense, made authority, earn its authority, not just express it. Socrates believed that wisdom must be examined and virtue must be lived. Leadership must be accountable and truth must be presumed, never just assumed. And that is what made him a threat. Not because he himself sought power, but because he exposed those who misused it. He didn't undermine the city, he undermined the prenses and the presence in the foundation of many of the political careers of important people there. Now here again you might feel a spiritual echo. Socrates' presence in Athens resembles the prophetic tradition we see in the Bible, one that challenges hypocrisy, exposes injustice, and calls people to examine their hearts, refusing to flatter the powerful, insisting that the soul matters more than earthly success. Now he's clearly not a prophet in the religious sense, but he is a man who believes that truth has moral weight and that confronting falsehood is an act of love. Now the tension in his life continues to build. By the time Socrates is in his sixties, the tension is almost palpable. The young, yes, they still adore him, but the powerful resent him, and the city is divided, and Socrates continues walking bare through through the streets, asking questions that no one wants to be asked, and no one wants to answer, and this tension will eventually lead to his trial. But before we reach that moment, we must explore the heart of his teaching, the idea that shaped his life and inspired generations after him, and that's where we'll go next. The moral purpose of the method. If the Olympus is Socrates' scalpel and irony his bedside manner, and midwifery his guiding metaphor, then our next section reveals the beating heart behind it all. The Socratic method is moral, and it is pastoral. He is ultimately trying to heal people. You see, Socrates believed the soul is the most important thing about us. This is the foundation of everything he does. The soul is the centre of the moral life and the seat of our character. It is also the source of virtue and the part of us that must be tended, shaped, examined, and cared for. And he believed that a damaged soul is far worse than a damaged reputation, that moral ignorance is more dangerous than poverty, that living wrongly is worse even than dying, and this is why he questioned people, not to defeat them because ultimately he wanted to save them from themselves. Socrates believed that wrongdoing ultimately always comes from ignorance, and ignorance hides behind unexamined assumptions. Exposing those assumptions is an act of love. So the Olynchus is not a trap in any way, it is simply a tool for diagnosis. Socratic irony is also not manipulation, it is humility and access in action, and midwifery is not flattery, it is guidance. Together these things form a kind of total moral therapy, a way of helping people see themselves clearly so they can live more wisely. It's all about clearing away the illusions in life, and Socrates believed that most people live behind a sort of fog of untested beliefs and inherited assumptions, and also our wider families can be full of cultural cliches, half-formed opinions and comforting illusions. His method will clear that fog. He removes the clutter, he exposes the contradictions, and he reveals the gaps between what people say and how they live. Not to shame them, but ultimately to set them free. Another example. Imagine Socrates speaking with a wealthy Athenian merchant this time. The merchant says, I am a good man because I am successful. And Socrates might say, Oh, okay, and what is success? Having wealth. And what is wealth for? says Socrates. To live well. And what is living well? Being good. So goodness is success and success is goodness. Hmm, I think I need to rethink this. This again is his moral therapy in action. Socrates gently dismantles the illusion that wealth equals virtue, an illusion still held by many to this day. And here again we feel a spiritual echo. Socrates' method completely resonates with the Christian conviction that truth is not merely intellectual, that wisdom is in fact has a moral component, and that the heart must be examined, and transformation can only begin with honesty. The inner life matters more than even outward success. Now Socrates is not a Christian, let me be clear. But he is a man who believes that the soul must be tended with seriousness, humility, and courage. But a method that exposes illusions is always going to be dangerous because illusions are comforting to people, and illusions protect people's prideful positions, and assuming illusions can help some people maintain power. Socrates' method therefore threatens the proud, threatens the powerful, threatens the pretentious and the self-deceive. Not because he's attacking them, because he invites them to see themselves more clearly. And clarity in reality is something that most people fear. But the method that he uses, I would say, prepares the way for the message. By the time someone has gone through the elinctus and experienced Socratic irony, wrestled with their own assumptions, they are ready, truly ready, to hear Socrates' core teaching. That being that virtue is knowledge, evil is ignorance, the good life must always be an examined life, and the soul must be cared for, and that justice is found in harmony. And that is where the next episode will take us. But before we get there we have one more step in today's episode with a brief look at how the Socratic method still shapes the world today. Sometimes the best way to understood Socrates' method is simply to watch it happen. So here again is another short reconstructuation, not a historical transcript, I'm not using anything he said, but I think a reasonably fair illustration of how a typical Socratic encounter might have unfolded in the Athenian marketplace in his day. Imagine this time Socrates meeting a confident young Athenian who knows he is certain what courage is. So the Socratic exchange on courage might be this. You young man are known for your bravery, so tell me what is courage. Courage is standing firm in battle, he replies. Even when standing firm is foolish Well, no, not then. So courage is not standing firm on some occasion. No it is, except when it isn't. Then perhaps courage is knowing when to stand firm. Yeah, that sounds about right. And how do you know when to stand firm? By being courageous. So courage then requires knowledge. Uh I suppose it does. Then courage is not simply standing firm but acting with knowledge of what is truly good. A young man might say then at that point might say, Socrates, I think you may have made me wiser, but more confused at the same time. Excellent, says Socrates. Confusion is the beginning of wisdom. This is the elinctus in miniature, a confident claim, a gentle question, a contradiction revealed, and all of this so a deeper insight can emerge and that young soul might be woken up a little more. Socrates never lecture, he simply wants to help people discover the truth they already half know. It is philosophy as a conversation and conversation as a tool for transformation. Now Socrates lived two thousand four hundred years ago, but his method is everywhere today and still matters today. It's woven into the fabric of how we teach, how we counsel people, how we reason, and how we grow. His questions echo in classrooms, courtrooms, therapy rooms, even in church discipleship contexts, even in the quiet moment where you simply choose to examine your own heart. Teachers still use the Socratic method to help students think critically and examine assumptions, to articulate ideas clearly, through discovery rather than through just memorizing things. The best teachers don't simply give answers, they ask the right questions. In law, cross-examination is pure Socratic method. Its aim is to expose contradictions, to test claims, and to reveal truth through careful questioning. Every courtroom carries a faint echo of the Athenian marketplace. It's also used in therapy and pastoral care. Modern counseling often begins with what do you mean by that? Why do you think you reacted that way? What assumptions lie beneath those feelings? This is Socratic midwifery, helping people bring hidden truths to the surface. And in the spiritual life, Christians will recognize the Socratic spirit in self in any form of self-examination, confession even, and discernment. The testing of motives and the pursuit of inner integrity is important. And Socrates believed that the unexamined life is a life not worth living. Christian tradition would add on to that the examined life is actually where transformation can begin. The Socratic also exists in our everyday conversation. When someone simply asks, Why do you say that? Why do you believe that? What follows from that idea, or even simply, is that really true? Socrates might metaphorically be smiling somewhere. The method endures because it is intensely human. Socrates' method survives because it speaks to something universal, something in our longing for clarity and our hunger for truth, our need to know, our desire to grow and our fear of self-deception. The Olympus is not ancient, but it is timeless. It is the art of becoming honest with ourselves, and that is always going to be relevant. And so my friend, that brings us to the end of today's episode, our deep dive into the strange, gentle and relentless method of a man who changes the way the world thinks. I know that's a bold claim, but it's one I think that's fair. And today we brought Socrates at work, asking questions that slip under our armor, exposing contradictions with a smile, and pretending not to know so that others might discover what they don't know, helping people to give birth to ideas they didn't know they already carried within, and awakening the young, unsettling the powerful, and doing it all with moral seriousness of someone who believes the soul is worth more than worldly success. We have hopefully seen the elinctus in action, that careful probing cross-examination that wants to clear away the illusions we hold on to. We've seen Socratic irony, humility used as a scalpel, we've seen midwifery, truth born through the struggle, not delivered through lectures, and we've seen why this method still shapes everything today. Classrooms, courtrooms, counselling rooms, any quiet moment of self-examination today. Socrates didn't teach answers. You might say he simply taught honesty and he taught clarity. And he taught courage, the courage to look at ourselves without flinching. And now that we understand how Socrates taught, we're ready to explore what he taught. Because in the next episode in our sort series within a series, we'll step into the very heart of his philosophy. What is virtue? Why do we do wrong? What does it mean to care for the soul of someone? Why is the examined life the only life worth living? And how does a man who claim to know nothing end up shaping the entire moral imagination of the West? So in our next episode, it's where Socrates stops asking questions long enough for us to glimpse the convictions that lay behind and guided his life. The ideas that would shape Plato, influence Christian thought, and ideas that still challenge us today. We turn next time to the heart of his philosophy. You see, Socrates believed that virtue is knowledge and that evil is ignorance. He also said that the soul must be cared for and the good life is the examined life. He said that justice is actually seen in harmony, in harmonious situations, and even said that no one actually does wrong willingly. He believed that truth, once recognized, can transform a life internal and in action. The episode will, I hope, be reflective, pastoral, and spiritually resonant. It's where Christian listeners will feel a kinship between Socrates' moral seriousness and the later Christian conviction that the inner life matters more than any outward success. So until then, thank you for being with me and for joining me today and for listening. And may the questions that you ask this week lead you not to conclusion but to clarity, courage, and the care of your own soul by the God who created it and formed it. Thanks for being with me today.