To speak of becoming a sage in an era where everyone strives to be an "economic agent" seems utterly absurd. Of course, all absurdity depends on one’s perspective. The perceived absurdity of sages stems from non-sage viewpoints—economic agents, social beings, ducks, and the like. No logic exists without premises; no perspective is absolute or free from assumptions. Since the world already clamors with economic agents, social beings, and ducks, sages, too, must inevitably join the cacophony.
From this angle, no perspective holds eternal value, yet none is eternally valueless—this applies to the Analects, Confucius, and even sages themselves. However, misinterpretation is impermissible. We must first clarify what the Analects truly conveys; otherwise, all praise or condemnation becomes meaningless. In a noisy age, meaninglessness itself becomes the ultimate "meaning." Let the clamor swell until it collapses under its own excess. To embark on the journey through the Analects, one must resolve to become a sage—or at least seek to understand how to become one. For those aspiring to be ducks or duck kings, this door remains closed.
Having resolved the subject of "study" (the junzi), what is its object? What must a junzi study to achieve sagehood? Historically, most interpretations reduce this "study" to mundane skills or scholarship. If so, why not substitute "sexual practices" as the object? The passage would then read: "Is it not a pleasure for a junzi to study (sexual practices) and practice them diligently?" This would reduce Confucius to a pioneer of the 1960s sexual revolution or an ancestor of Daoist sex cults—material fit for Duck Proverbs, Chapter One.
But the Analects is neither Duck Proverbs nor a manual for mathematics, medicine, or literature. It does not generically address "education." Though Confucius was an educator, this was his secondary role—much like modern professors moonlighting as influencers or salespeople peddling wares (or themselves) at midnight. The Analects ultimately explores Confucianism’s core: how to become a sage. Thus, the "study" here transcends ordinary education; it means hearing the Way, seeing the Way, and learning the Way. The object of "study" can only be the path to sagehood.
This "study" begins with hearing the Way—without hearing, there is no learning. Next comes seeing the Way—without seeing, learning remains impossible. Only after seeing the Way can one truly learn the Way; otherwise, it is like a blind cat chasing a dead mouse. Even in foreign lands where "ducks" thrive under capitalism, becoming a duck follows this process: first, hearing of ducks and their habitats (even if unaware of terms like "duck clubs"); second, verifying through observation. One cannot blindly invest in duckhood—a "sunrise industry"—without confirming its benefits: wages, flexibility, risks. Only after thorough investigation can one "study" duckhood with confidence. If even ducks demand such rigor, how much more so the path to sagehood?
The character for "study" (學) shares roots with "emulate" (效). To "study" is not solitary practice but emulation—of sages. This emulation entails two inseparable acts: (1) comparing oneself to sages and (2) calibrating. Just as a watch must be regularly reset to avoid drift, the junzi must continually "calibrate" against sages and reality. Confucianism’s worldly engagement demands that "calibration" address social conditions—without context, there is no true "study."
Thus, the full meaning of "study" in "To study and practice what you have learned" is:
Q: What is study?
A: Hearing the Way of sages, seeing the Way of sages, emulating sages, and perpetually calibrating within social reality.
Q: Who studies?
A: The junzi (noble person).
Q: What is studied?
A: The path to sagehood.
Q: What does study achieve?
A: Sagehood.