Willing or Dragged: Cleanthes, Fate, and the Way of Alignment
“Fate guides the willing but drags the unwilling.”
—Cleanthes, Hymn to Zeus
Some ideas arrive like thunder. They rattle you, not with volume, but with clarity. This line from Cleanthes, the second head of the Stoic school in ancient Athens, hit me that way. I heard it while listening to The Beginner’s Guide to Stoicism, and it felt like it had been waiting patiently for me to be ready. “Fate guides the willing but drags the unwilling.” They speak of freedom and surrender, of agency and alignment, and of the tension between control and acceptance.
Lately, I’ve been navigating a season of transition. It’s not entirely of my choosing, and not wholly beyond my control. In that space, this quote resonated. I don’t want to be dragged. But am I willing to be guided?
To understand what this means, not only for me, but for anyone facing uncertainty, we need to understand Cleanthes. We also need to ask if his ancient idea of fate has anything to say to those shaped by the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. I believe it does. There may be more common ground between Stoicism and religious faith than is usually admitted, and this quote is a place to begin that conversation.
Cleanthes: The Well-Drawer of Stoicism
Cleanthes was not born into philosophy. He worked hard labor jobs, most famously as a water-carrier, to fund his studies in Athens. His nickname, “the Well-drawer,” was both literal and symbolic. He drew deeply from the well of Stoic teaching and became Zeno’s most loyal student. When Zeno died, Cleanthes took over the Stoic school, bringing with him not only his teacher’s ideas but also his unique contributions.
Unlike some later Stoics, Cleanthes infused Stoicism with a clear sense of the divine. His most famous surviving work, the Hymn to Zeus, praises the rational order of the universe and calls humans to align themselves with it. For Cleanthes, Zeus is not the capricious thunder-wielder of myth, but a symbol of divine reason—Logos—pervading everything. In this hymn, Stoicism and theology meet.
His quote about fate and willingness appears in that very hymn. It is not fatalistic. Cleanthes does not say we are helpless. He says we are guided if we are willing. The divine order exists. The question is whether we resist or cooperate with it.
What Does It Mean to Be Willing?
The Stoics believed the universe operates according to reason and natural law. They called this the Logos, a rational, divine principle organizing all things. To live well is to live following this order. That doesn’t mean passively accepting injustice or suffering without protest. It means discerning what is within our control, accepting what is not, and choosing virtue over reaction.
So when Cleanthes writes that fate guides the willing, he means that those who recognize and align themselves with reality are led by it. They move with the current. The unwilling are those who thrash against what is. They are dragged, but they arrive just the same. This is a radical idea—not because it removes freedom, but because it reframes it.
Freedom is not the ability to change fate, but to respond to it wisely. Cleanthes does not demand that we like our fate. He invites us to engage it with courage and clarity. This idea is countercultural in a culture that often preaches absolute autonomy and control, but is humane. There is dignity in cooperating with reality. There is wisdom in yielding without surrendering our moral compass.
Parallels in Abrahamic Theology
Though Stoicism and Abrahamic religions differ in many ways, Stoicism lacks a personal God, revelation, or concept of grace. There are striking similarities, especially around the concept of divine order and human response.
In Judaism, the Hebrew Scriptures affirm both human responsibility and divine sovereignty. The Book of Proverbs, for example, is filled with exhortations to live wisely, in harmony with the moral order of creation. The image of God guiding the faithful appears again and again. And yet, as in the story of Jonah, those who resist may still be “dragged” toward their purpose, sometimes kicking and screaming.
In Christianity, divine providence is central. Theologians like Thomas Aquinas describe natural law as the rational structure God has woven into creation. To live virtuously is to align with this order. In that, Aquinas and Cleanthes are closer than one might expect. Even Calvin’s idea of predestination (often misunderstood) can be seen as a call to yield to God’s will rather than resist it. The Apostle Paul’s metaphor of being clay in the potter’s hands echoes this surrender.
In Islam, the word Islam itself means “submission.” The phrase inshallah—“if God wills”—pervades Muslim culture. It reflects an attitude of humility before the divine will. While Stoicism emphasizes reason over relationship, the sense that human will must align with divine will is a shared thread.
Of course, major differences remain. The God of Abraham is personal, relational, and active in history. Cleanthes’ Zeus is more like a cosmic law than a companion or liberator, but the consequence is similar: We are called to act justly, endure adversity with integrity, and find peace not by controlling the world but by responding well to it.
Echoes in Modern Thought
Cleanthes’ line didn’t vanish with antiquity. It has found new life in modern Stoics and theologians alike.
In his writings on Marcus Aurelius, Donald Robertson often emphasizes how voluntary cooperation with fate leads to tranquility. The Stoic sage, he says, is not passive, but actively engaged in choosing a rational, virtuous response to each moment. The more we resist, the more we suffer.
In How to Be a Stoic, Massimo Pigliucci reminds readers that fate does not mean everything is fixed in a robotic way. It means we are in a web of cause and effect. Our freedom lies in choosing how to play our part well.
Theologians echo this, too. Frederick Buechner once wrote: “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.” That’s not resignation. That’s clarity. Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk, said true freedom is found not in resisting God’s will but in consenting to it. He believed contemplative prayer helps one discover not just what to do but how to align with something deeper than personal desire.
And my pastor, Rev. Magrey deVega, recently said something that belongs in this conversation: “Actions without contemplation are unrooted, and contemplation without action is inconsequential.” To me, that’s another way of saying: don’t just thrash around. Root yourself. Act from alignment.
Willing in My Own Life
This quote found me at a time when I’m being invited—perhaps compelled—into a new chapter of life. I’ve spent decades building a career and contributing to work I believe in. As of June 20, that chapter has ended. I’m now officially out of work. The ground beneath me has shifted. I could fight it. I could be dragged. Or I can begin to walk.
Stoicism doesn’t offer easy comfort. It doesn’t promise everything will turn out the way I want. It offers something else: the strength to meet life as it is, and the wisdom to do so with grace. Cleanthes reminds me that the path will unfold, one way or another. But I can choose how I walk it. I can walk with trust in the rational order of things—or at least in the value of choosing virtue even when the way ahead isn’t clear.
I’m not sure where this road leads. But I know I don’t want to be dragged. If I can’t run, I’ll walk. If I can’t walk, I’ll at least face forward.
Conclusion
“Fate guides the willing but drags the unwilling.” Cleanthes gives us more than a Stoic slogan. He gives us a lens for seeing life not as something to control but as something to cooperate with. The universe, or God, or providence, whatever name you give it, moves toward order. We can fight that, or we can follow.
The Stoics remind us that we always have a choice. Strangely, paradoxically, in choosing to align ourselves with what is beyond our control, we discover the truest kind of freedom.
