Other Works — On the Making of Man

This work was meant to supplement and complete the Hexaëmeron of Saint Basil, and it assumes the reader is familiar with that treatise. The story of the creation of the world is not discussed in detail. It is mentioned, but mainly to emphasize the idea that the world was prepared to be the realm where man would have dominion. Gregory shows, however, that man was made with care, naturally fitted to rule over other creatures, made in the likeness of God with respect to various moral qualities and in possessing reason, while differing from the Divine nature in that the human mind receives its information through the senses and depends on them to perceive external things. The body is designed to be the instrument of the mind, suited for use by a rational being. It is by possessing the rational soul, along with the natural or vegetative soul and the sensible soul, that man differs from lower animals. At the same time, his mind works through the senses. The mind is incomprehensible in its nature (resembling in this way the Divine nature of which it is the image), and its relationship to the body is discussed at some length in chapters 12 through 15. The connection between mind and body is ineffable. It cannot be explained by assuming that the mind resides in any particular part of the body. The mind acts upon the whole body and is acted upon by it, depending on the corporeal and material nature for one element of perception, so that perception requires both body and mind. But it is to the rational element that the name soul properly belongs. The nutritive and sensible faculties only borrow the name from what is higher than themselves. Man was first made in the image of God, and this concept excludes the idea of distinction of sex. In the first creation of man all humanity is included, according to Divine foreknowledge. Our whole nature, extending from the first to the last person, is one image of Him Who is. If not for the Fall, the increase of the human race would have taken place as the increase of the angelic race takes place, in some way unknown to us. The decline of man from his first state made succession by generation necessary, and it was because this decline and its consequences were present to the Divine mind that God created them male and female. In this respect, and in respect of the need for nourishment by food, man is not in the image of God but shows his kinship with the lower creation. But these necessities are not permanent. They will end with the restoration of man to his former excellence, as discussed in chapters 16 through 18. Here Gregory is led to speak in chapters 19 and 20 about the food of man in Paradise and about the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. And thus, having mentioned the Fall of man, he goes on to speak of his Restoration. This, in his view, follows from the finite nature of evil and is deferred until the sum of humanity is complete. As to the way in which the present state of things will end, we know nothing, but that it will end is inferred from the non-eternity of matter, as discussed in chapters 21 through 24. The doctrine of the Resurrection is supported by our knowledge of the accuracy with which other events have been predicted in Scripture, by the experience given to us of similar events in particular cases, in those whom our Lord raised to life, and especially in His own resurrection. The argument that such a restoration is impossible is answered by an appeal to the unlimited character of the Divine power and by inferences from parallels observed in nature, as discussed in chapters 25 through 27. Gregory then proceeds to deal with the question of the pre-existence of the soul, rejecting that opinion and maintaining that the body and the soul come into existence together, potentially in the Divine will, actually at the moment when each individual man comes into being by generation, as discussed in chapters 28 and 29. In the course of his argument on this last point, he turns aside to discuss at some length, in the last chapter, the structure of the human body. But he returns once more, in conclusion, to his main position, that man is generated as a living and animated being, and that the power of the soul is gradually manifested in and by means of the material substratum of the body, so that man is brought to perfection by the aid of the lower attributes of the soul. But the true perfection of the soul is not in these, which will ultimately be put away, but in the higher attributes which constitute for man the image of God.

This work was intended to supplement and complete the Hexaëmeron of S. Basil, and presupposes an acquaintance with that treatise. The narrative of the creation of the world is not discussed in detail: it is referred to, but chiefly in order to insist on the idea that the world was prepared to be the sphere of man's sovereignty. On the other hand, Gregory shows that man was made with circumspection, fitted by nature for rule over the other creatures, made in the likeness of God in respect of various moral attributes, and in the possession of reason, while differing from the Divine nature in that the human mind receives its information by means of the senses and is dependent on them for its perception of external things. The body is fitted to be the instrument of the mind, adapted to the use of a reasonable being: and it is by the possession of the rational soul, as well as of the natural or vegetative and the sensible soul, that man differs from the lower animals. At the same time, his mind works by means of the senses: it is incomprehensible in its nature (resembling in this the Divine nature of which it is the image), and its relation to the body is discussed at some length (chs. 12-15). The connection between mind and body is ineffable: it is not to be accounted for by supposing that the mind resides in any particular part of the body: the mind acts upon and is acted upon by the whole body, depending on the corporeal and material nature for one element of perception, so that perception requires both body and mind. But it is to the rational element that the name of soul properly belongs: the nutritive and sensible faculties only borrow the name from that which is higher than themselves. Man was first made in the image of God: and this conception excludes the idea of distinction of sex. In the first creation of man all humanity is included, according to the Divine foreknowledge: our whole nature extending from the first to the last is one image of Him Who is. But for the Fall, the increase of the human race would have taken place as the increase of the angelic race takes place, in some way unknown to us. The declension of man from his first estate made succession by generation necessary: and it was because this declension and its consequences were present to the Divine mind that God created them male and female. In this respect, and in respect of the need of nourishment by food, man is not in the image of God, but shows his kindred with the lower creation. But these necessities are not permanent: they will end with the restoration of man to his former excellence (chs. 16-18). Here Gregory is led to speak (chs. 19-20) of the food of man in Paradise, and of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. And thus, having made mention of the Fall of man, he goes on to speak of his Restoration. This, in his view, follows from the finite nature of evil: it is deferred until the sum of humanity is complete. As to the mode in which the present state of things will end, we know nothing: but that it will end is inferred from the non- eternity of matter (chs. 21-24). The doctrine of the Resurrection is supported by our knowledge of the accuracy with which other events have been predicted in Scripture, by the experience given to us of like events in particular cases, in those whom our Lord raised to life, and especially in His own resurrection. The argument that such a restoration is impossible is met by an appeal to the unlimited character of the Divine power, and by inferences from parallels observed in nature (chs. 25-27). Gregory then proceeds to deal with the question of the pre- existence of the soul, rejecting that opinion, and maintaining that the body and the soul come into existence together, potentially in the Divine will, actually at the moment when each individual man comes into being by generation (chs. 28-29). In the course of his argument on this last point, he turns aside to discuss at some length, in the last chapter, the structure of the human body: but he returns once more, in conclusion, to his main position, that man is generated as a living and animated being, and that the power of the soul is gradually manifested in, and by means of, the material substratum of the body; so that man is brought to perfection by the aid of the lower attributes of the soul. But the true perfection of the soul is not in these, which will ultimately be put away, but in the higher attributes which constitute for man the image of God.

Gregory, Bishop of Nyssa, to his brother Peter, the servant of God.

Gregory, Bishop of Nyssa, to his brother Peter, the servant of God.

If we had to honor those who excel in virtue with monetary rewards, the whole world's wealth, as Solomon says, would seem too small to balance against your virtue. However, since the debt of gratitude we owe to your Reverence is greater than any amount of money can measure, and since the holy season of Easter calls for the customary gift of love, we offer to your greatness of mind, O man of God, a gift that is indeed too small to be worthy of presentation to you, yet not less than what our ability allows. The gift is a discourse, like a humble garment, woven with effort from our limited intellect. The subject of this discourse, though it may generally be thought audacious, seemed to us not inappropriate. For the one who has worthily contemplated God's creation is the one who was truly created after God, whose soul was fashioned in the image of Him who created him—Basil, our common father and teacher—who through his own thinking made the sublime ordering of the universe accessible to all, making the world as established by God in the true Wisdom known to those who through his understanding are led to such contemplation. But we, who fall short even of worthily admiring him, nevertheless intend to add to the great writer's work what is lacking in it, not by inserting our words into his work (for it is unthinkable that that lofty voice should suffer the insult of being cited as authority for our discourses), but so that the teacher's glory may not seem to be diminishing among his disciples.

If we had to honour with rewards of money those who excel in virtue, the whole world of money, as Solomon says, would seem but small to be made equal to your virtue in the balance. Since, however, the debt of gratitude due to your Reverence is greater than can be valued in money, and the holy Eastertide demands the accustomed gift of love, we offer to your greatness of mind, O man of God, a gift too small indeed to be worthy of presentation to you, yet not falling short of the extent of our power. The gift is a discourse, like a mean garment, woven not without toil from our poor wit, and the subject of the discourse, while it will perhaps be generally thought audacious, yet seemed not unfitting. For he alone has worthily considered the creation of God who truly was created after God, and whose soul was fashioned in the image of Him Who created him — Basil, our common father and teacher — who by his own speculation made the sublime ordering of the universe generally intelligible, making the world as established by God in the true Wisdom known to those who by means of his understanding are led to such contemplation: but we, who fall short even of worthily admiring him, yet intend to add to the great writer's speculations that which is lacking in them, not so as to interpolate his work by insertion (for it is not to be thought of that that lofty mouth should suffer the insult of being given as authority for our discourses), but so that the glory of the teacher may not seem to be failing among his disciples.

For if, with the discussion of humanity missing from his Hexaëmeron, none of his disciples had made any serious effort to fill in what was lacking, critics might have had grounds to attack his great reputation by claiming he had failed to cultivate any intellectual capacity in his students. But now that we are attempting, according to our abilities, to explain what was missing, if anything in our work proves worthy of his teaching, it will surely be credited to our teacher. However, if our discussion falls short of the heights of his profound thought, he will be cleared of this accusation and escape any blame for seeming unwilling for his disciples to have any skill at all, though we ourselves may be held accountable by our critics for being unable to hold in our limited hearts the wisdom of our instructor.

For if, the consideration of man being lacking in his Hexaëmeron, none of those who had been his disciples contributed any earnest effort to supply the defect, the scoffer would perhaps have had a handle against his great fame, on the ground that he had not cared to produce in his hearers any habit of intelligence. But now that we venture according to our powers upon the exposition of what was lacking, if anything should be found in our work such as to be not unworthy of his teaching, it will surely be referred to our teacher: while if our discourse does not reach the height of his sublime speculation, he will be free from this charge and escape the blame of seeming not to wish that his disciples should have any skill at all, though we perhaps may be answerable to our censurers as being unable to contain in the littleness of our heart the wisdom of our instructor.

The scope of our proposed inquiry is not small: it is second to none of the wonders of the world—perhaps even greater than any of those known to us, because no other existing thing, except the human creation, has been made like God. So we will easily find that kindly readers will make allowance for what we say, even if our discussion falls far short of what the subject deserves. For it is our task, I believe, to leave nothing unexamined concerning man—what we believe took place before, what we now see, and the results we expect to appear afterward. Surely our effort would be shown to fail its promise if, when man is proposed for examination, any of the questions related to the subject were omitted. Moreover, we must fit together, according to both the explanation of Scripture and reasoning, those statements about him which seem by a kind of necessary sequence to be opposed, so that our whole subject may be consistent in its train of thought and in order, as the statements that seem to be contrary are brought—if the Divine power so discovers a hope for what is beyond hope, and a way for what seems impossible—to one and the same end. And for the sake of clarity, I think it good to set forth the discussion to you by chapters, so that you may be able to know briefly the force of the various arguments of the whole work.

The scope of our proposed enquiry is not small: it is second to none of the wonders of the world — perhaps even greater than any of those known to us, because no other existing thing, save the human creation, has been made like to God: thus we shall readily find that allowance will be made for what we say by kindly readers, even if our discourse is far behind the merits of the subject. For it is our business, I suppose, to leave nothing unexamined of all that concerns man — of what we believe to have taken place previously, of what we now see, and of the results which are expected afterwards to appear (for surely our effort would be convicted of failing of its promise, if, when man is proposed for contemplation, any of the questions which bear upon the subject were to be omitted); and, moreover, we must fit together, according to the explanation of Scripture and to that derived from reasoning, those statements concerning him which seem, by a kind of necessary sequence, to be opposed, so that our whole subject may be consistent in train of thought and in order, as the statements that seem to be contrary are brought (if the Divine power so discovers a hope for what is beyond hope, and a way for what is inextricable) to one and the same end: and for clearness' sake I think it well to set forth to you the discourse by chapters, that you may be able briefly to know the force of the several arguments of the whole work.

This is the book of the generation of heaven and earth, says the Scripture, when all that is seen was finished and each thing that exists went to its own separate place. The body of heaven surrounded all things, and the heavy bodies that tend downward—the earth and the water—held each other in and took the middle place of the universe. Meanwhile, the Divine power and skill was implanted in the growth of things as a kind of bond and stability for what was made, guiding all things with the reins of a double operation. For it was through rest and motion that God devised the genesis of things that did not exist and the continuance of things that do exist. God drives the extremely rapid motion of the sphere like a wheel around the heavy and unchanging element contributed by the creation that does not move, as if around some fixed path, and preserves the indissolubility of both through their mutual action. The circling substance compresses the compact body of the earth all around by its rapid motion, while that which is firm and unyielding, because of its unchanging fixedness, continually increases the whirling motion of those things that revolve around it. Intensity is produced in equal measure in each of the natures that differ in their operation—in the stationary nature, I mean, and in the mobile revolution. For the earth is not shifted from its own base, nor does the heaven ever relax in its vehemence or slacken its motion.

1. This is the book of the generation of heaven and earth, says the Scripture, when all that is seen was finished, and each of the things that are betook itself to its own separate place, when the body of heaven compassed all things round, and those bodies which are heavy and of downward tendency, the earth and the water, holding each other in, took the middle place of the universe; while, as a sort of bond and stability for the things that were made, the Divine power and skill was implanted in the growth of things, guiding all things with the reins of a double operation (for it was by rest and motion that it devised the genesis of the things that were not, and the continuance of the things that are), driving around, about the heavy and changeless element contributed by the creation that does not move, as about some fixed path, the exceedingly rapid motion of the sphere, like a wheel, and preserving the indissolubility of both by their mutual action, as the circling substance by its rapid motion compresses the compact body of the earth round about, while that which is firm and unyielding, by reason of its unchanging fixedness, continually augments the whirling motion of those things which revolve round it, and intensity is produced in equal measure in each of the natures which thus differ in their operation, in the stationary nature, I mean, and in the mobile revolution; for neither is the earth shifted from its own base, nor does the heaven ever relax in its vehemence, or slacken its motion.

These things, moreover, were framed first before other things, according to Divine wisdom, to serve as a kind of beginning of the whole structure, as the great Moses indicates, I suppose, when he says that the heaven and the earth were made by God in the beginning, showing that all things seen in creation are the offspring of rest and motion, brought into being by the Divine will. Now since the heaven and the earth are diametrically opposed to each other in their operations, the creation that lies between the opposites, having in part a share in what is adjacent to it, itself acts as a mean between the extremes, so that there is clearly a mutual contact of the opposites through the mean. For air in a way imitates the perpetual motion and subtlety of the fiery substance, both in the lightness of its nature and in its suitability for motion, yet it is not so alienated from the solid substance, for it is no more in a state of continual flux and dispersion than in a permanent state of immobility, but becomes, in its affinity to each, a kind of borderland of the opposition between operations, at once uniting in itself and dividing things which are naturally distinct.

2. These, moreover, were first framed before other things, according to the Divine wisdom, to be as it were a beginning of the whole machine, the great Moses indicating, I suppose, where he says that the heaven and the earth were made by God in the beginning Genesis 1:1 that all things that are seen in the creation are the offspring of rest and motion, brought into being by the Divine will. Now the heaven and the earth being diametrically opposed to each other in their operations, the creation which lies between the opposites, and has in part a share in what is adjacent to it, itself acts as a mean between the extremes, so that there is manifestly a mutual contact of the opposites through the mean; for air in a manner imitates the perpetual motion and subtlety of the fiery substance, both in the lightness of its nature, and in its suitableness for motion; yet it is not such as to be alienated from the solid substance, for it is no more in a state of continual flux and dispersion than in a permanent state of immobility, but becomes, in its affinity to each, a kind of borderland of the opposition between operations, at once uniting in itself and dividing things which are naturally distinct.

Liquid substance is similarly connected to opposite qualities by a twofold nature. Insofar as it is heavy and tends downward, it is closely related to the earthy. But insofar as it shares in a certain fluid and mobile energy, it is not entirely foreign to the nature that is in motion. Through this quality, a kind of mixing and meeting of opposites takes place, with weight being transferred to motion and motion not being hindered by weight. In this way, things that are most extremely opposite in their physis combine with one another and are mutually joined together by those qualities that act as intermediaries between them.

3. In the same way, liquid substance also is attached by double qualities to each of the opposites; for in so far as it is heavy and of downward tendency it is closely akin to the earthy; but in so far as it partakes of a certain fluid and mobile energy it is not altogether alien from the nature which is in motion; and by means of this also there is effected a kind of mixture and concurrence of the opposites, weight being transferred to motion, and motion finding no hindrance in weight, so that things most extremely opposite in nature combine with one another, and are mutually joined by those which act as means between them.

But to speak more precisely, one should rather say that the very nature of the contraries themselves is not entirely without a mixture of properties from one another. As I see it, everything we observe in the world mutually agrees with everything else, and creation, though found to exist in properties of opposite natures, is nevertheless united with itself. For motion is not understood merely as movement from place to place, but is also observed in change and alteration. On the other hand, the immovable nature does not admit motion by way of alteration. The wisdom of God has transposed these properties and produced unchangeableness in what is always moving, and change in what is immovable. God does this, perhaps, by a providential arrangement, so that the property of nature which constitutes its immutability and immobility might not, when observed in any created thing, cause the creature to be considered as God. For whatever can move or change would no longer fit the concept of Godhead. Therefore the earth is stable without being immutable, while the heaven, by contrast, has no mutability and so does not have stability either. In this way, the divine power, by interweaving change in the stable nature and motion with what is not subject to change, might through this interchange of attributes both join them closely to each other and make them foreign to the conception of deity. For as has been said, neither of these—neither what is unstable nor what is mutable—can be considered to belong to the more divine nature.

4. But to speak strictly, one should rather say that the very nature of the contraries themselves is not entirely without mixture of properties, each with the other, so that, as I think, all that we see in the world mutually agree, and the creation, though discovered in properties of contrary natures, is yet at union with itself. For as motion is not conceived merely as local shifting, but is also contemplated in change and alteration, and on the other hand the immovable nature does not admit motion by way of alteration, the wisdom of God has transposed these properties, and wrought unchangeableness in that which is ever moving, and change in that which is immovable; doing this, it may be, by a providential dispensation, so that that property of nature which constitutes its immutability and immobility might not, when viewed in any created object, cause the creature to be accounted as God; for that which may happen to move or change would cease to admit of the conception of Godhead. Hence the earth is stable without being immutable, while the heaven, on the contrary, as it has no mutability, so has not stability either, that the Divine power, by interweaving change in the stable nature and motion with that which is not subject to change, might, by the interchange of attributes, at once join them both closely to each other, and make them alien from the conception of Deity; for as has been said, neither of these (neither that which is unstable, nor that which is mutable) can be considered to belong to the more Divine nature.

All things had now reached their proper completion: heaven and earth, as Moses says, were finished, along with everything between them, and each particular thing was adorned with its fitting beauty. Heaven was adorned with the radiance of the stars, the sea and air with swimming and flying creatures, and the earth with every variety of plants and animals, all of which it brought forth simultaneously, empowered by the divine will. The earth was also full of its produce, bringing forth fruits together with flowers. The meadows were full of everything that grows in them, and all the mountain ridges, summits, and every hillside, slope, and hollow were crowned with fresh grass and with the diverse produce of trees that had just emerged from the ground yet immediately shot up to their full beauty. All the animals that had come to life at God's command were rejoicing, we may suppose, and leaping about, running here and there through the thickets in herds according to their kind, while every sheltered and shady place rang with the songs of birds. At sea, we may suppose, a similar sight could be seen, as it had just settled into stillness and calm through the gathering together of its depths, where harbors and havens spontaneously formed hollows along the coasts and made the sea reconciled with the land. The gentle movement of the waves rivaled the beauty of the meadows, rippling delicately with light and harmless breezes that skimmed the surface. All the wealth of creation on land and sea was ready, yet there was no one to share it.

5. Now all things were already arrived at their own end: the heaven and the earth Genesis 2:1, as Moses says, were finished, and all things that lie between them, and the particular things were adorned with their appropriate beauty; the heaven with the rays of the stars, the sea and air with the living creatures that swim and fly, and the earth with all varieties of plants and animals, to all which, empowered by the Divine will, it gave birth together; the earth was full, too, of her produce, bringing forth fruits at the same time with flowers; the meadows were full of all that grows therein, and all the mountain ridges, and summits, and every hillside, and slope, and hollow, were crowned with young grass, and with the varied produce of the trees, just risen from the ground, yet shot up at once into their perfect beauty; and all the beasts that had come into life at God's command were rejoicing, we may suppose, and skipping about, running to and fro in the thickets in herds according to their kind, while every sheltered and shady spot was ringing with the chants of the songbirds. And at sea, we may suppose, the sight to be seen was of the like kind, as it had just settled to quiet and calm in the gathering together of its depths, where havens and harbours spontaneously hollowed out on the coasts made the sea reconciled with the land; and the gentle motion of the waves vied in beauty with the meadows, rippling delicately with light and harmless breezes that skimmed the surface; and all the wealth of creation by land and sea was ready, and none was there to share it.

God had not yet brought that great and precious being, man, into existence. It would not make sense for the ruler to appear before those he would rule over. Once his domain was ready, the next step was for the king to be revealed. When the Creator of all things had prepared in advance what was like a royal residence for the future king—which included the land, islands, sea, and the heaven arching over them like a roof—and when all kinds of wealth had been stored in this palace (by wealth I mean the whole creation: everything in plants and trees, everything that has sense, breath, and life, and if we count materials as wealth too, all things considered precious in people's eyes for their beauty, such as gold and silver and the gemstones that people treasure, having hidden an abundance of all these things in the earth's depths as in a royal treasury), he then revealed man in the world to observe some of its wonders and rule over others. Through his enjoyment, man might come to know the Giver, and through the beauty and grandeur of what he saw, he might discover that power of the Maker which is beyond speech and language.

1. For not as yet had that great and precious thing, man, come into the world of being; it was not to be looked for that the ruler should appear before the subjects of his rule; but when his dominion was prepared, the next step was that the king should be manifested. When, then, the Maker of all had prepared beforehand, as it were, a royal lodging for the future king (and this was the land, and islands, and sea, and the heaven arching like a roof over them), and when all kinds of wealth had been stored in this palace (and by wealth I mean the whole creation, all that is in plants and trees, and all that has sense, and breath, and life; and — if we are to account materials also as wealth — all that for their beauty are reckoned precious in the eyes of men, as gold and silver, and the substances of your jewels which men delight in — having concealed, I say, abundance of all these also in the bosom of the earth as in a royal treasure-house), he thus manifests man in the world, to be the beholder of some of the wonders therein, and the lord of others; that by his enjoyment he might have knowledge of the Giver, and by the beauty and majesty of the things he saw might trace out that power of the Maker which is beyond speech and language.

For this reason man was brought into the world last after the creation—not because he was rejected and pushed to the end as worthless, but because it was fitting for him to be king over his subjects from the very moment of his birth. Just as a good host does not bring his guest to his house before preparing the feast, but first makes all proper preparations and decorates his house, couches, and table, and only then brings his guest home when everything suitable for his refreshment is ready—in the same way the rich and generous Host of our nature first adorned the dwelling with beauties of every kind and prepared this great and varied banquet, and then introduced man. He assigned to man as his task not the acquiring of what was not yet there, but the enjoyment of the things that were already there. For this reason He gives him as foundations the instincts of a twofold organization, blending the divine with the earthly, so that through both he may be naturally and properly disposed to each kind of enjoyment: enjoying God by means of his more divine nature, and enjoying the good things of earth through the sense that is related to them.

2. For this reason man was brought into the world last after the creation, not being rejected to the last as worthless, but as one whom it behooved to be king over his subjects at his very birth. And as a good host does not bring his to his house before the preparation of his feast, but, when he has made all due preparation, and decked with their proper adornments his house, his couches, his table, brings his home when things suitable for his refreshment are in readiness — in the same manner the rich and munificent Entertainer of our nature, when He had decked the habitation with beauties of every kind, and prepared this great and varied banquet, then introduced man, assigning to him as his task not the acquiring of what was not there, but the enjoyment of the things which were there; and for this reason He gives him as foundations the instincts of a twofold organization, blending the Divine with the earthy, that by means of both he may be naturally and properly disposed to each enjoyment, enjoying God by means of his more divine nature, and the good things of earth by the sense that is akin to them.

However, we should not overlook this point: while the world, vast as it is with all its parts, was laid down as an elemental foundation for the formation of the universe, the creation came into being, so to speak, immediately by Divine power, existing at once upon His command. But before making man, counsel precedes, and the Maker foreshows in verbal description what is to be—what kind of thing it should be, what archetype it should bear a likeness to, what purpose it shall be made for, what its operation shall be once made, and what it shall rule over. The saying examines all these things beforehand, so that man has a rank assigned to him before his genesis and possesses rule over things before his coming into being. For it says, "God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and the beasts of the earth, and the fowls of the heaven, and the cattle, and all the earth."

1. But it is right that we should not leave this point without consideration, that while the world, great as it is, and its parts, are laid as an elemental foundation for the formation of the universe, the creation is, so to say, made offhand by the Divine power, existing at once on His command, while counsel precedes the making of man; and that which is to be is foreshown by the Maker in verbal description, and of what kind it is fitting that it should be, and to what archetype it is fitting that it should bear a likeness, and for what it shall be made, and what its operation shall be when it is made, and of what it shall be the ruler — all these things the saying examines beforehand, so that he has a rank assigned him before his genesis, and possesses rule over the things that are before his coming into being; for it says, God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and the beasts of the earth, and the fowls of the heaven, and the cattle, and all the earth.

O, how amazing! A sun is made, and no counsel comes first; the same is true for a heaven. Nothing else in all creation is equal to these things. Such a great wonder is formed by a word alone, and the account tells us nothing about when, how, or any similar details. It is the same with every particular case—the aether, the stars, the air between, the sea, the earth, the animals, the plants. All are brought into being with a word, while only for the making of man does the Maker of all approach with careful deliberation. He prepares beforehand the material for man's formation, shapes his form according to an archetypal beauty, sets before him the purpose for which he is to come into existence, and makes for him a physis that is appropriate and suited to his activities and fitting for the goal at hand.

2. O marvellous! A sun is made, and no counsel precedes; a heaven likewise; and to these no single thing in creation is equal. So great a wonder is formed by a word alone, and the saying indicates neither when, nor how, nor any such detail. So too in all particular cases, the æther, the stars, the intermediate air, the sea, the earth, the animals, the plants — all are brought into being with a word, while only to the making of man does the Maker of all draw near with circumspection, so as to prepare beforehand for him material for his formation, and to liken his form to an archetypal beauty, and, setting before him a mark for which he is to come into being, to make for him a nature appropriate and allied to the operations, and suitable for the object in hand.

Just as craftsmen in our everyday life shape a tool in a way suited to its purpose, so the best Craftsman made our nature as a kind of form fit for exercising royal power, preparing it both through the superior advantages of the soul and through the very shape of the body to be adapted for royalty. The soul immediately demonstrates its royal and exalted character—being far removed from the lowliness of a common person—in that it acknowledges no master and is self-governed, ruled independently by its own will. To whom else does this belong if not to a king? Furthermore, beyond these facts, the fact that it is the image of that Nature which rules over all means nothing other than this: that our nature was created to be royal from the beginning. For just as, in ordinary human practice, those who make images of princes both shape the form of their bodies and represent their royal rank through purple clothing, and even the image itself is commonly called a king, so human nature also, since it was made to rule over the rest, was made through its likeness to the King of all as if it were a living image, sharing with the archetype (original) both in rank and in name—not dressed in purple, nor showing its rank through a scepter and crown (for the archetype itself is not adorned with these), but instead of the purple robe, clothed in virtue, which is truly the most royal of all garments, and in place of the scepter, supported by the blessedness of immortality, and instead of the royal crown, adorned with the crown of righteousness. In this way it is shown to be perfectly like the beauty of its archetype in everything that belongs to the dignity of royalty.

1. For as in our own life artificers fashion a tool in the way suitable to its use, so the best Artificer made our nature as it were a formation fit for the exercise of royalty, preparing it at once by superior advantages of soul, and by the very form of the body, to be such as to be adapted for royalty: for the soul immediately shows its royal and exalted character, far removed as it is from the lowliness of private station, in that it owns no lord, and is self-governed, swayed autocratically by its own will; for to whom else does this belong than to a king? And further, besides these facts, the fact that it is the image of that Nature which rules over all means nothing else than this, that our nature was created to be royal from the first. For as, in men's ordinary use, those who make images of princes both mould the figure of their form, and represent along with this the royal rank by the vesture of purple, and even the likeness is commonly spoken of as a king, so the human nature also, as it was made to rule the rest, was, by its likeness to the King of all, made as it were a living image, partaking with the archetype both in rank and in name, not vested in purple, nor giving indication of its rank by sceptre and diadem (for the archetype itself is not arrayed with these), but instead of the purple robe, clothed in virtue, which is in truth the most royal of all raiment, and in place of the sceptre, leaning on the bliss of immortality, and instead of the royal diadem, decked with the crown of righteousness; so that it is shown to be perfectly like to the beauty of its archetype in all that belongs to the dignity of royalty.

It is true that the Divine beauty is not adorned with any shape or physical form, or with any beauty of color, but is contemplated as excellence in unspeakable bliss. Just as painters transfer human forms to their pictures by means of certain colors, applying to their copy the proper and corresponding tints so that the beauty of the original may be accurately transferred to the likeness, so I would have you understand that our Maker also, painting the portrait to resemble His own beauty, shows in us His own sovereignty by adding virtues as if they were colors. The tints by which His true form is portrayed are manifold and varied—not red, or white, or the blending of these, whatever it may be called, nor a touch of black that paints the eyebrow and the eye and shades the depressions in the figure by some combination, nor all such techniques which the hands of painters devise. Instead of these, purity, freedom from passion, blessedness, alienation from all evil, and all those attributes of the like kind help to form in human beings the likeness of God. With such hues as these, the Maker of His own image marked our physis.

1. It is true, indeed, that the Divine beauty is not adorned with any shape or endowment of form, by any beauty of color, but is contemplated as excellence in unspeakable bliss. As then painters transfer human forms to their pictures by the means of certain colors, laying on their copy the proper and corresponding tints, so that the beauty of the original may be accurately transferred to the likeness, so I would have you understand that our Maker also, painting the portrait to resemble His own beauty, by the addition of virtues, as it were with colors, shows in us His own sovereignty: and manifold and varied are the tints, so to say, by which His true form is portrayed: not red, or white, or the blending of these, whatever it may be called, nor a touch of black that paints the eyebrow and the eye, and shades, by some combination, the depressions in the figure, and all such arts which the hands of painters contrive, but instead of these, purity, freedom from passion, blessedness, alienation from all evil, and all those attributes of the like kind which help to form in men the likeness of God: with such hues as these did the Maker of His own image mark our nature.

If you examine the other aspects by which Divine beauty is expressed, you will find that the likeness in the image we present is perfectly preserved in these as well. The Godhead is mind and word, for "in the beginning was the Word," and the followers of Paul have the mind of Christ which speaks in them. Humanity too is not far removed from these: you see in yourself word and understanding, an imitation of the very Mind and Word. Again, God is love and the source of love, for the great John declares that "love is of God" and "God is love." The Fashioner of our nature has made this our feature too, for He says, "By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." Thus, if this is absent, the whole stamp of the likeness is transformed. The Deity sees and hears all things and searches all things out. You too have the power to apprehend things through sight and hearing, and the understanding that inquires into things and searches them out.

2. And if you were to examine the other points also by which the Divine beauty is expressed, you will find that to them too the likeness in the image which we present is perfectly preserved. The Godhead is mind and word: for in the beginning was the Word and the followers of Paul have the mind of Christ which speaks in them: humanity too is not far removed from these: you see in yourself word and understanding, an imitation of the very Mind and Word. Again, God is love, and the fount of love: for this the great John declares, that love is of God, and God is love 1 John 4:7-8: the Fashioner of our nature has made this to be our feature too: for hereby, He says, shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you love one another:– thus, if this be absent, the whole stamp of the likeness is transformed. The Deity beholds and hears all things, and searches all things out: you too have the power of apprehension of things by means of sight and hearing, and the understanding that inquires into things and searches them out.

Let no one think I am saying that the Deity interacts with existing things in a way similar to how humans operate, through different faculties. For it is impossible to imagine in the simplicity of the Godhead the varied and diverse nature of cognitive operation. Even in our own case, the faculties by which we comprehend things are not numerous, although we interact with things that affect our lives in many ways through our senses. There is one faculty, the mind itself that is implanted within us, which passes through each sense organ and grasps the things beyond. It is the mind that sees through the eyes what is visible. It is the mind that understands through hearing what is said. It is the mind that is satisfied with what tastes good to us and rejects what is unpleasant. It is the mind that uses the hand for whatever it desires, grasping or rejecting through it, employing the help of that organ for this purpose exactly as it judges best.

1. And let no one suppose me to say that the Deity is in touch with existing things in a manner resembling human operation, by means of different faculties. For it is impossible to conceive in the simplicity of the Godhead the varied and diverse nature of the apprehensive operation: not even in our own case are the faculties which apprehend things numerous, although we are in touch with those things which affect our life in many ways by means of our senses; for there is one faculty, the implanted mind itself, which passes through each of the organs of sense and grasps the things beyond: this it is that, by means of the eyes, beholds what is seen; this it is that, by means of hearing, understands what is said; that is content with what is to our taste, and turns from what is unpleasant; that uses the hand for whatever it wills, taking hold or rejecting by its means, using the help of the organ for this purpose precisely as it thinks expedient.

If in human beings, then, even though the organs formed by nature for perceiving things may be different, that which operates and moves by means of all of them, and uses each one appropriately for whatever object is before it, is one and the same, not changing its nature because of the differences in its operations, how could anyone suspect multiplicity of ousia in God based on His varied powers? For He who made the eye, as the prophet says, and who planted the ear, stamped these operations on human physis to be like significant marks, with reference to their models in Himself: for He says, Let us make man in our image.

2. If in men, then, even though the organs formed by nature for purposes of perception may be different, that which operates and moves by means of all, and uses each appropriately for the object before it, is one and the same, not changing its nature by the differences of operations, how could any one suspect multiplicity of essence in God on the ground of His varied powers? For He that made the eye, as the prophet says, and that planted the ear, stamped on human nature these operations to be as it were significant characters, with reference to their models in Himself: for He says, Let us make man in our image Genesis 1:26.

But what, I would ask, happens to the heresy of the Anomœans? What will they say to this statement? How will they defend the emptiness of their teaching in light of the words quoted? Will they claim that it is possible for one image to be made like different forms? If the Son is unlike the Father in physis, how is it that the likeness He forms of the different natures is one? For He who said, "Let us make after our image," and by the plural form revealed the Holy Trinity, would not have mentioned the image in the singular if the archetypes were unlike one another, for it would be impossible that there should be one likeness displayed of things which do not agree with one another. If the natures were different, he would certainly have begun their images also differently, making the appropriate image for each. But since the image is one, while the archetype is not one, who is so far beyond understanding as not to know that things which are like the same thing surely resemble one another? Therefore He says (the word, perhaps, cutting short this wickedness at the very formation of human life), "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness."

3. But what, I would ask, becomes of the heresy of the Anomœans? What will they say to this utterance? How will they defend the vanity of their dogma in view of the words cited? Will they say that it is possible that one image should be made like to different forms? If the Son is in nature unlike the Father, how comes it that the likeness He forms of the different natures is one? For He Who said, Let us make after our image, and by the plural signification revealed the Holy Trinity, would not, if the archetypes were unlike one another, have mentioned the image in the singular: for it would be impossible that there should be one likeness displayed of things which do not agree with one another: if the natures were different he would assuredly have begun their images also differently, making the appropriate image for each: but since the image is one, while the archetype is not one, who is so far beyond the range of understanding as not to know that the things which are like the same thing, surely resemble one another? Therefore He says (the word, it may be, cutting short this wickedness at the very formation of human life), Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.

But what does the upright shape of his body mean? And why is it that the powers which support life do not naturally belong to his body? Man is brought into life bare of natural covering, an unarmed and poor being, lacking all useful things, worthy, according to appearances, of pity rather than of admiration. He is not armed with prominent horns or sharp claws, nor with hoofs or teeth, nor does he possess by nature any deadly venom in a sting—things such as most animals have in their own power for defense against those who harm them. His body is not protected with a covering of hair. Yet perhaps it was to be expected that he who was promoted to rule over the rest of the creatures should be defended by nature with his own weapons so that he might not need help from others for his own safety. But as things are, the lion, the boar, the tiger, the leopard, and all similar animals have natural power sufficient for their safety. The bull has his horn, the hare his speed, the deer his leap and the sharpness of his sight, and another beast has bulk, others a trunk, the birds have their wings, and the bee her sting. Generally, in all animals there is some protective power implanted by nature. But man alone of all is slower than the beasts that are swift of foot, smaller than those that are of great bulk, more defenseless than those that are protected by natural weapons. How, then, one will ask, has such a being obtained sovereignty over all things?

1. But what means the uprightness of his figure? And why is it that those powers which aid life do not naturally belong to his body? But man is brought into life bare of natural covering, an unarmed and poor being, destitute of all things useful, worthy, according to appearances, of pity rather than of admiration, not armed with prominent horns or sharp claws, nor with hoofs nor with teeth, nor possessing by nature any deadly venom in a sting — things such as most animals have in their own power for defense against those who do them harm: his body is not protected with a covering of hair: and yet possibly it was to be expected that he who was promoted to rule over the rest of the creatures should be defended by nature with arms of his own so that he might not need assistance from others for his own security. Now, however, the lion, the boar, the tiger, the leopard, and all the like have natural power sufficient for their safety: and the bull has his horn, the hare his speed, the deer his leap and the certainty of his sight, and another beast has bulk, others a proboscis, the birds have their wings, and the bee her sting, and generally in all there is some protective power implanted by nature: but man alone of all is slower than the beasts that are swift of foot, smaller than those that are of great bulk, more defenceless than those that are protected by natural arms; and how, one will say, has such a being obtained the sovereignty over all things?

Well, I think it would not be at all hard to show that what seems to be a deficiency of our nature is actually a means for us to obtain dominion over the creatures subject to us. For if man had such power that he could outrun the horse in speed, and had a foot that, because of its solidity, could not wear out but was strengthened by hoofs or claws of some kind, and carried horns and stings and claws upon himself, he would be, to begin with, a wild-looking and frightening creature if such things grew on his body. Moreover, he would have neglected his rule over the other creatures if he had no need of the cooperation of his subjects. As it is now, the necessary services of our life are divided among the individual animals that are under our control, for this reason: to make our dominion over them necessary.

2. Well, I think it would not be at all hard to show that what seems to be a deficiency of our nature is a means for our obtaining dominion over the subject creatures. For if man had had such power as to be able to outrun the horse in swiftness, and to have a foot that, from its solidity, could not be worn out, but was strengthened by hoofs or claws of some kind, and to carry upon him horns and stings and claws, he would be, to begin with, a wild-looking and formidable creature, if such things grew with his body: and moreover he would have neglected his rule over the other creatures if he had no need of the co-operation of his subjects; whereas now, the needful services of our life are divided among the individual animals that are under our sway, for this reason — to make our dominion over them necessary.

Our body's slowness and difficulty in moving caused us to bring the horse to meet our need and tame it. Our body's nakedness made our management of sheep necessary, as sheep supply what our nature lacks through their yearly production of wool. The fact that we must bring in supplies for living from others subjected beasts of burden to such service. Furthermore, because we cannot eat grass like cattle, this brought the ox to serve our life, making our living easier through his own labor. Because we needed teeth and biting power to subdue some other animals by gripping with teeth, the dog gave both his speed and his own jaw to supply our need, becoming like a living sword for man. Men have also discovered iron, which is stronger and more penetrating than protruding horns or sharp claws. Unlike those things that always grow naturally with animals, iron enters into partnership with us when needed and otherwise remains by itself. To compensate for the crocodile's scaly hide, one can make that very hide serve as armor by wearing it on one's skin when necessary. Or, if that is not available, skill fashions iron for this purpose too, which serves a person for a time in war and then leaves the soldier free from the burden again in peacetime. The wing of birds also serves our life, so that through ingenuity we are not left behind even by the speed of wings. Some birds become tame and help those who catch birds, and through them others are brought under control by ingenuity to serve our needs. Moreover, skill contrives to make our arrows feathered, and by means of the bow gives us the speed of wings for our needs. The fact that our feet are easily hurt and worn out in traveling makes necessary the help given by the subject animals, which is why we fit shoes to our feet.

3. It was the slowness and difficult motion of our body that brought the horse to supply our need, and tamed him: it was the nakedness of our body that made necessary our management of sheep, which supplies the deficiency of our nature by its yearly produce of wool: it was the fact that we import from others the supplies for our living which subjected beasts of burden to such service: furthermore, it was the fact that we cannot eat grass like cattle which brought the ox to render service to our life, who makes our living easy for us by his own labour; and because we needed teeth and biting power to subdue some of the other animals by grip of teeth, the dog gave, together with his swiftness, his own jaw to supply our need, becoming like a live sword for man; and there has been discovered by men iron, stronger and more penetrating than prominent horns or sharp claws, not, as those things do with the beasts, always growing naturally with us, but entering into alliance with us for the time, and for the rest abiding by itself: and to compensate for the crocodile's scaly hide, one may make that very hide serve as armour, by putting it on his skin upon occasion: or, failing that, art fashions iron for this purpose too, which, when it has served him for a time for war, leaves the man-at-arms once more free from the burden in time of peace: and the wing of the birds, too, ministers to our life, so that by aid of contrivance we are not left behind even by the speed of wings: for some of them become tame and are of service to those who catch birds, and by their means others are by contrivance subdued to serve our needs: moreover art contrives to make our arrows feathered, and by means of the bow gives us for our needs the speed of wings: while the fact that our feet are easily hurt and worn in travelling makes necessary the aid which is given by the subject animals: for hence it comes that we fit shoes to our feet.

Man's form is upright and extends upward toward heaven, looking above, and these are marks of sovereignty that show his royal dignity. The fact that man alone among existing things is like this, while all others bow their bodies downward, clearly points to the difference in dignity between those which stoop beneath his rule and that power which rises above them. All the rest have the front limbs of their bodies in the form of feet, because what stoops needs something to support it. But in the formation of man these limbs were made hands, for the upright body found one base, supporting its position securely on two feet, sufficient for its needs.

1. But man's form is upright, and extends aloft towards heaven, and looks upwards: and these are marks of sovereignty which show his royal dignity. For the fact that man alone among existing things is such as this, while all others bow their bodies downwards, clearly points to the difference of dignity between those which stoop beneath his sway and that power which rises above them: for all the rest have the foremost limbs of their bodies in the form of feet, because that which stoops needs something to support it: but in the formation of man these limbs were made hands, for the upright body found one base, supporting its position securely on two feet, sufficient for its needs.

Especially, these serving hands adapt themselves to what reason requires. Indeed, if someone were to say that the service of hands is a special property of the rational nature, he would not be entirely wrong. And this is not only because his thought turns to the common and obvious fact that we express our reasoning through the natural use of our hands in written characters. It is true that this fact—that we speak by writing and, in a certain way, converse with the help of our hands, preserving sounds through the forms of the alphabet—is connected with the endowment of reason. But I am referring to something else when I say that the hands cooperate with what reason commands.

2. Especially do these ministering hands adapt themselves to the requirements of the reason: indeed if one were to say that the ministration of hands is a special property of the rational nature, he would not be entirely wrong; and that not only because his thought turns to the common and obvious fact that we signify our reasoning by means of the natural employment of our hands in written characters. It is true that this fact, that we speak by writing, and, in a certain way, converse by the aid of our hands, preserving sounds by the forms of the alphabet, is not unconnected with the endowment of reason; but I am referring to something else when I say that the hands co-operate with the bidding of reason.

Let us, however, before discussing this point, consider the matter we passed over (for the subject of the order of created things almost escaped our notice): why do things that grow from the earth come first, then the non-rational animals come next, and then, after these are made, comes man? We may learn from these facts not only the obvious idea that grass appeared useful to the Creator for the sake of the animals, while the animals were made for the sake of man, and that for this reason their food was made before the animals, and what would serve human life was made before man.

3. Let us, however, before discussing this point, consider the matter we passed over (for the subject of the order of created things almost escaped our notice), why the growth of things that spring from the earth takes precedence, and the irrational animals come next, and then, after the making of these, comes man: for it may be that we learn from these facts not only the obvious thought, that grass appeared to the Creator useful for the sake of the animals, while the animals were made because of man, and that for this reason, before the animals there was made their food, and before man that which was to minister to human life.

It seems to me that through these facts Moses reveals a hidden teaching and secretly conveys that wisdom about the soul which secular learning had some vague notion of but never clearly grasped. His account teaches us that the power of life and soul can be considered in three divisions. One is simply a power of growth and nutrition that supplies what is needed to sustain the bodies being nourished. This is called the vegetative soul and can be seen in plants, for we observe in growing plants a certain vital power that lacks sensation. There is another form of life beyond this which includes the form just mentioned but also possesses in addition the power of direction according to sensation. This is found in the nature of irrational animals, for they not only experience nourishment and growth but also have the activity of sensation and perception. But perfect bodily life is seen in the rational nature—I mean the human nature—which is nourished, endowed with sensation, and also shares in reason and is governed by mind.

4. But it seems to me that by these facts Moses reveals a hidden doctrine, and secretly delivers that wisdom concerning the soul, of which the learning that is without had indeed some imagination, but no clear comprehension. His discourse then hereby teaches us that the power of life and soul may be considered in three divisions. For one is only a power of growth and nutrition supplying what is suitable for the support of the bodies that are nourished, which is called the vegetative soul, and is to be seen in plants; for we may perceive in growing plants a certain vital power destitute of sense; and there is another form of life besides this, which, while it includes the form above mentioned, is also possessed in addition of the power of management according to sense; and this is to be found in the nature of the irrational animals: for they are not only the subjects of nourishment and growth, but also have the activity of sense and perception. But perfect bodily life is seen in the rational (I mean the human) nature, which both is nourished and endowed with sense, and also partakes of reason and is ordered by mind.

We might divide our subject something like this. Of existing things, some are intellectual and some are corporeal. Let us set aside for now the division of the intellectual according to its properties, since our argument is not concerned with these. Of corporeal things, some are entirely without life, and some share in vital energy. Of living bodies, again, some have sense joined with life, and some are without sense. Finally, that which has sense is further divided into rational and irrational. For this reason the lawgiver says that after inanimate matter (as a sort of foundation for the form of animate things), this vegetative life was made and existed earlier in the growth of plants. Then he proceeds to introduce the creation of those creatures that are governed by sense. Since, following the same order, those things among flesh-and-blood creatures that have sense can exist by themselves even apart from the intellectual nature, while the rational principle could not be embodied except as blended with the sensitive—for this reason man was made last after the animals, as nature advanced in an orderly progression to perfection. For this rational animal, man, is blended from every form of soul. He is nourished by the vegetative kind of soul, and to the faculty of growth was added that of sense, which stands midway, if we regard its peculiar nature, between the intellectual and the more material essence—being as much coarser than the one as it is more refined than the other. Then a certain alliance and mixture of the intellectual essence takes place with the subtle and enlightened element of the sensitive nature, so that man consists of these three. We are taught the same thing by the apostle in what he says to the Ephesians, praying for them that the complete grace of their body and soul and spirit may be preserved at the coming of the Lord—using the word body for the nutritive part, and denoting the sensitive by the word soul, and the intellectual by spirit. Likewise too the Lord instructs the scribe in the Gospel that he should set before every commandment that love to God which is exercised with all the heart and soul and mind. For here also it seems to me that the phrase indicates the same difference, naming the more corporeal existence heart, the intermediate soul, and the higher nature, the intellectual and mental faculty, mind.

5. We might make a division of our subject in some such way as this. Of things existing, part are intellectual, part corporeal. Let us leave alone for the present the division of the intellectual according to its properties, for our argument is not concerned with these. Of the corporeal, part is entirely devoid of life, and part shares in vital energy. Of a living body, again, part has sense conjoined with life, and part is without sense: lastly, that which has sense is again divided into rational and irrational. For this reason the lawgiver says that after inanimate matter (as a sort of foundation for the form of animate things), this vegetative life was made, and had earlier existence in the growth of plants: then he proceeds to introduce the genesis of those creatures which are regulated by sense: and since, following the same order, of those things which have obtained life in the flesh, those which have sense can exist by themselves even apart from the intellectual nature, while the rational principle could not be embodied save as blended with the sensitive — for this reason man was made last after the animals, as nature advanced in an orderly course to perfection. For this rational animal, man, is blended of every form of soul; he is nourished by the vegetative kind of soul, and to the faculty of growth was added that of sense, which stands midway, if we regard its peculiar nature, between the intellectual and the more material essence being as much coarser than the one as it is more refined than the other: then takes place a certain alliance and commixture of the intellectual essence with the subtle and enlightened element of the sensitive nature: so that man consists of these three: as we are taught the like thing by the apostle in what he says to the Ephesians, praying for them that the complete grace of their body and soul and spirit may be preserved at the coming of the Lord; using, the word body for the nutritive part, and denoting the sensitive by the word soul, and the intellectual by spirit. Likewise too the Lord instructs the scribe in the Gospel that he should set before every commandment that love to God which is exercised with all the heart and soul and mind: for here also it seems to me that the phrase indicates the same difference, naming the more corporeal existence heart, the intermediate soul, and the higher nature, the intellectual and mental faculty, mind.

The apostle also recognizes three categories of dispositions. He calls one "carnal," which is preoccupied with the stomach and the pleasures associated with it. Another he calls "natural," which occupies a middle position between virtue and vice—rising above the one but not fully participating in the other. The third he calls "spiritual," which perceives the perfection of godly living. This is why he tells the Corinthians, reproaching them for their indulgence in pleasure and passion, "You are carnal" (1 Corinthians 3:3), and therefore incapable of receiving the more perfect teaching. Elsewhere, comparing the middle kind with the perfect, he says, "But the natural man receives not the things of the Spirit: for they are foolishness unto him: but he that is spiritual judges all things, yet he himself is judged of no man" (1 Corinthians 2:14-15). So just as the natural man is higher than the carnal man, by the same measure the spiritual man rises above the natural man.

6. Hence also the apostle recognizes three divisions of dispositions, calling one carnal, which is busied with the belly and the pleasures connected with it, another natural, which holds a middle position with regard to virtue and vice, rising above the one, but without pure participation in the other; and another spiritual, which perceives the perfection of godly life: wherefore he says to the Corinthians, reproaching their indulgence in pleasure and passion, You are carnal 1 Corinthians 3:3, and incapable of receiving the more perfect doctrine; while elsewhere, making a comparison of the middle kind with the perfect, he says, but the natural man receives not the things of the Spirit: for they are foolishness unto him: but he that is spiritual judges all things, yet he himself is judged of no man 1 Corinthians 2:14-15. As, then, the natural man is higher than the carnal, by the same measure also the spiritual man rises above the natural.

If Scripture tells us that man was made last, after every living thing, the lawgiver is doing nothing other than declaring to us the doctrine of the soul, showing that what is perfect comes last according to a necessary sequence in the order of things. For the rational includes the others as well, while the sensitive also surely contains the vegetative form, and that form in turn exists only in connection with what is material. Thus we may suppose that nature ascends as if by steps—I mean the various properties of life—from the lower to the perfect form.

7. If, therefore, Scripture tells us that man was made last, after every animate thing, the lawgiver is doing nothing else than declaring to us the doctrine of the soul, considering that what is perfect comes last, according to a certain necessary sequence in the order of things: for in the rational are included the others also, while in the sensitive there also surely exists the vegetative form, and that again is conceived only in connection with what is material: thus we may suppose that nature makes an ascent as it were by steps — I mean the various properties of life — from the lower to the perfect form.

Since man is a rational animal, his bodily instrument must be made suitable for the use of reason. Just as you see musicians producing their music according to the form of their instruments—not piping with harps nor harping upon flutes—so the organization of our instruments must be adapted for reason, so that when struck by the vocal organs it can sound properly for the use of words. For this reason hands were attached to the body. Though we can count up very many uses in daily life for which these skillfully designed and helpful instruments, our hands, that easily follow every art and every operation in both war and peace, are useful, nature added them to our body primarily for the sake of reason. If man had no hands, the various parts of his face would certainly have been arranged like those of four-footed animals to suit the purpose of his feeding. His face would have been lengthened out and pointed toward the nostrils, and his lips would have jutted out from his mouth, lumpy, stiff, and thick, fitted for taking up grass. His tongue would either have lain between his teeth, of a kind to match his lips—fleshy, hard, and rough—helping his teeth deal with what came under his grinders, or it would have been moist and hanging out at the side like that of dogs and other meat-eating beasts, projecting through the gaps in his jagged row of teeth. If our body had no hands, how could articulate sound have been implanted in it, since the form of the parts of the mouth would not have had the shape proper for the use of speech? Man would of necessity have either bleated, baaed, barked, neighed, bellowed like oxen or donkeys, or uttered some bestial sound. But now, since the hand is made part of the body, the mouth is free for the service of reason. Thus the hands are shown to be the property of the rational nature, the Creator having devised through their means a special advantage for reason.

8. Now since man is a rational animal, the instrument of his body must be made suitable for the use of reason; as you may see musicians producing their music according to the form of their instruments, and not piping with harps nor harping upon flutes, so it must needs be that the organization of these instruments of ours should be adapted for reason, that when struck by the vocal organs it might be able to sound properly for the use of words. For this reason the hands were attached to the body; for though we can count up very many uses in daily life for which these skilfully contrived and helpful instruments, our hands, that easily follow every art and every operation, alike in war and peace, are serviceable, yet nature added them to our body pre-eminently for the sake of reason. For if man were destitute of hands, the various parts of his face would certainly have been arranged like those of the quadrupeds, to suit the purpose of his feeding: so that its form would have been lengthened out and pointed towards the nostrils, and his lips would have projected from his mouth, lumpy, and stiff, and thick, fitted for taking up the grass, and his tongue would either have lain between his teeth, of a kind to match his lips, fleshy, and hard, and rough, assisting his teeth to deal with what came under his grinder, or it would have been moist and hanging out at the side like that of dogs and other carnivorous beasts, projecting through the gaps in his jagged row of teeth. If, then, our body had no hands, how could articulate sound have been implanted in it, seeing that the form of the parts of the mouth would not have had the configuration proper for the use of speech, so that man must of necessity have either bleated, or baaed, or barked, or neighed, or bellowed like oxen or asses, or uttered some bestial sound? But now, as the hand is made part of the body, the mouth is at leisure for the service of the reason. Thus the hands are shown to be the property of the rational nature, the Creator having thus devised by their means a special advantage for reason.

Now since our Maker has bestowed upon our formation a certain Godlike grace by implanting in His image the likeness of His own excellences, for this reason He gave His other good gifts to human nature out of His bounty. But mind and reason we cannot strictly say that He gave; rather, He imparted them, adding to the image the proper adornment of His own physis. Now since the mind is something intelligible and incorporeal, its grace would have been incommunicable and isolated if its motion were not manifested by some device. For this reason there was still need of this instrumental bodily structure, so that it might, like a plectrum, strike the vocal organs and indicate by the quality of the notes produced the motion within.

1. Now since our Maker has bestowed upon our formation a certain Godlike grace, by implanting in His image the likeness of His own excellences, for this reason He gave, of His bounty, His other good gifts to human nature; but mind and reason we cannot strictly say that He gave, but that He imparted them, adding to the image the proper adornment of His own nature. Now since the mind is a thing intelligible and incorporeal, its grace would have been incommunicable and isolated, if its motion were not manifested by some contrivance. For this cause there was still need of this instrumental organization, that it might, like a plectrum, touch the vocal organs and indicate by the quality of the notes struck, the motion within.

Since the human mind discovers all kinds of ideas but cannot reveal the movements of its understanding directly through the soul alone to those who hear through bodily senses, it acts like a skilled musician who has lost his own voice through some condition but still wants to demonstrate his skill by making music with others' voices or with flutes and lyres. In the same way, the mind touches these living instruments and makes its hidden thoughts known through the sounds they produce.

2. And as some skilled musician, who may have been deprived by some affection of his own voice, and yet wish to make his skill known, might make melody with voices of others, and publish his art by the aid of flutes or of the lyre, so also the human mind being a discoverer of all sorts of conceptions, seeing that it is unable, by the mere soul, to reveal to those who hear by bodily senses the motions of its understanding, touches, like some skilful composer, these animated instruments, and makes known its hidden thoughts by means of the sound produced upon them.

The music of the human instrument is a kind of combination of flute and lyre, sounding together like a musical performance. When breath is forced up from the lungs through the windpipe, the speaker's intention to speak adjusts the sound, and as it strikes against the internal bumps that divide this flute-like passage in a circular pattern, it produces a sound similar to a flute, being moved around by the membrane-like projections. The roof of the mouth receives the sound from below in its hollow space, and by dividing the sound through the two passages that lead to the nostrils and through the cartilage around the perforated bone—like some ridged protrusion—it makes the sound resonate more loudly. Meanwhile, the cheek, the tongue, and the mechanism of the throat that allows the jaw to relax when pulled in and tighten when extended forward—all these work in many different ways like a pick moving across strings, rapidly changing the arrangement of tones as needed. The opening and closing of the lips works the same way as when musicians use their fingers to control the breath in a flute according to the rhythm of the tune.

3. Now the music of the human instrument is a sort of compound of flute and lyre, sounding together in combination as in a concerted piece of music. For the breath, as it is forced up from the air-receiving vessels through the windpipe, when the speaker's impulse to utterance attunes the harmony to sound, and as it strikes against the internal protuberances which divide this flute-like passage in a circular arrangement, imitates in a way the sound uttered through a flute, being driven round and round by the membranous projections. But the palate receives the sound from below in its own concavity, and dividing the sound by the two passages that extend to the nostrils, and by the cartilages about the perforated bone, as it were by some scaly protuberance, makes its resonance louder; while the cheek, the tongue, the mechanism of the pharynx by which the chin is relaxed when drawn in, and tightened when extended to a point — all these in many different ways answer to the motion of the plectrum upon the strings, varying very quickly, as occasion requires, the arrangement of the tones; and the opening and closing of the lips has the same effect as players produce when they check the breath of the flute with their fingers according to the measure of the tune.

Since the mind produces rational speech by means of our bodily instrument, we are born rational. In my view, we would not have received the gift of reason if we had been required to use our lips to meet the body's needs—the laborious and difficult work of obtaining food. But as things actually are, our hands take on this task for themselves and leave the mouth free for the service of reason.

1. As the mind then produces the music of reason by means of our instrumental construction, we are born rational, while, as I think, we should not have had the gift of reason if we had had to employ our lips to supply the need of the body — the heavy and toilsome part of the task of providing food. As things are, however, our hands appropriate this ministration to themselves, and leave the mouth available for the service of reason.

The operation of this instrument, however, is twofold: one for producing sound, and the other for receiving concepts from outside. These two faculties do not mix with each other, but each remains in the operation for which nature appointed it, not interfering with its neighbor—neither does the sense of hearing attempt to speak, nor does speech attempt to hear. Speech is always expressing something, while the ear, as Solomon says somewhere, is never filled by continual hearing.

2. The operation of the instrument, however, is twofold; one for the production of sound, the other for the reception of concepts from without; and the one faculty does not blend with the other, but abides in the operation for which it was appointed by nature, not interfering with its neighbour either by the sense of hearing undertaking to speak, or by the speech undertaking to hear; for the latter is always uttering something, while the ear, as Solomon somewhere says, is not filled with continual hearing.

What seems to me especially worthy of wonder regarding our internal faculties is this: what is the extent of that inner receptacle into which everything poured in through our hearing flows? Who records the words brought in by it? What kind of storehouses exist for the concepts deposited by our hearing? And how is it that when many concepts of different kinds crowd in upon one another, no confusion or error arises in the arrangement of what is stored there? One may feel the same wonder regarding the operation of sight, for through it likewise the mind grasps things external to the body and draws to itself the images of phenomena, imprinting within itself the impressions of what is seen.

3. That point as to our internal faculties which seems to me to be even in a special degree matter for wonder, is this:– what is the extent of that inner receptacle into which flows everything that is poured in by our hearing? Who are the recorders of the sayings that are brought in by it? What sort of storehouses are there for the concepts that are being put in by our hearing? And how is it, that when many of them, of varied kinds, are pressing one upon another, there arises no confusion and error in the relative position of the things that are laid up there? And one may have the like feeling of wonder also with regard to the operation of sight; for by it also in like manner the mind apprehends those things which are external to the body, and draws to itself the images of phenomena, marking in itself the impressions of the things which are seen.

And just as in a large city that receives all visitors through different entrances, not everyone gathers in the same place—some go to the market, some to houses, others to churches, streets, lanes, or theaters, each according to their own preference—I seem to see such a city of our mind established within us. The different entrances through the senses keep filling it, while the mind, distinguishing and examining each thing that enters, arranges them in their proper categories of knowledge.

4. And just as if there were some extensive city receiving all comers by different entrances, all will not congregate at any particular place, but some will go to the market, some to the houses, others to the churches, or the streets, or lanes, or the theatres, each according to his own inclination — some such city of our mind I seem to discern established in us, which the different entrances through the senses keep filling, while the mind, distinguishing and examining each of the things that enters, ranks them in their proper departments of knowledge.

And to continue with the illustration of the city, it often happens that members of the same family and kin do not enter through the same gate but come in through different entrances as circumstances allow. Yet once they are inside the city walls, they come together again because of their close relationship with one another. The opposite can also occur: strangers who don't know each other often use the same entrance to the city, but sharing that entrance doesn't unite them, because even once inside they separate to join their own relatives. I seem to observe something similar in the vast territory of our mind. Often the knowledge we gather through different sense organs is unified, even though the same object is divided into several parts in relation to the senses. Conversely, we may learn many varied things through a single sense, things that have no connection with one another.

5. And as, to follow the illustration of the city, it may often be that those who are of the same family and kindred do not enter by the same gate, coming in by different entrances, as it may happen, but are none the less, when they come within the circuit of the wall, brought together again, being on close terms with each other (and one may find the contrary happen; for those who are strangers and mutually unknown often take one entrance to the city, yet their community of entrance does not bind them together; for even when they are within they can be separated to join their own kindred); something of the same kind I seem to discern in the spacious territory of our mind; for often the knowledge which we gather from the different organs of sense is one, as the same object is divided into several parts in relation to the senses; and again, on the contrary, we may learn from some one sense many and varied things which have no affinity one with another.

For instance — since it's better to make our argument clear by illustration — let us suppose we are investigating the property of tastes: what is sweet to the sense and what tasters should avoid. We discover through experience both the bitterness of gall and the pleasant quality of honey. But when these facts become known, the knowledge we receive is one (the same thing being introduced to our understanding in several ways) through taste, smell, hearing, and often through touch and sight. For when someone sees honey, hears its name, receives it by taste, recognizes its odor by smell, and tests it by touch, he recognizes the same thing by means of each of his senses.

6. For instance — for it is better to make our argument clear by illustration — let us suppose that we are making some inquiry into the property of tastes — what is sweet to the sense, and what is to be avoided by tasters. We find, then, by experience, both the bitterness of gall and the pleasant character of the quality of honey; but when these facts are known, the knowledge is one which is given to us (the same thing being introduced to our understanding in several ways) by taste, smell, hearing, and often by touch and sight. For when one sees honey, and hears its name, and receives it by taste, and recognizes its odour by smell, and tests it by touch, he recognizes the same thing by means of each of his senses.

On the other hand, we receive varied and diverse information through individual senses. Hearing takes in all kinds of sounds, and our visual perception operates by observing different types of things—it encounters both black and white, and everything distinguished by contrasting colors. The same applies to taste, smell, and touch. Each sense plants in us, through its own perceptive power, knowledge of things of every kind.

7. On the other hand we get varied and multiform information by some one sense, for as hearing receives all sorts of sounds, and our visual perception exercises its operation by beholding things of different kinds — for it lights alike on black and white, and all things that are distinguished by contrariety of color — so with taste, with smell, with perception by touch; each implants in us by means of its own perceptive power the knowledge of things of every kind.

What then is, in its own nature, this mind that distributes itself into the faculties of sensation and properly receives, through each of them, knowledge of things? That it is something other than the senses themselves, I think no reasonable person doubts. For if it were identical with sense, it would reduce the distinctive character of the operations carried out by the senses to one, since it is itself simple, and in what is simple no diversity can be found. But as things stand, since everyone agrees that touch is one thing and smell another, and the rest of the senses are similarly related to each other in such a way that they exclude intercommunication or mixture, we must surely conclude, since the mind is properly present in each case, that it is something other than the sensitive nature, so that no variation may be attributed to something intelligible.

1. What then is, in its own nature, this mind that distributes itself into faculties of sensation, and duly receives, by means of each, the knowledge of things? That it is something else besides the senses, I suppose no reasonable man doubts; for if it were identical with sense, it would reduce the proper character of the operations carried on by sense to one, on the ground that it is itself simple, and that in what is simple no diversity is to be found. Now however, as all agree that touch is one thing and smell another, and as the rest of the senses are in like manner so situated with regard to each other as to exclude intercommunion or mixture, we must surely suppose, since the mind is duly present in each case, that it is something else besides the sensitive nature, so that no variation may attach to a thing intelligible.

Who has known the mind of the Lord? the apostle asks; and I ask further, who has understood his own mind? Let those who think God's nature is within their grasp tell us whether they understand themselves—whether they know the nature of their own mind. Is it complex and composed of many parts? If so, how can something intelligible be composite? What is the principle by which things of different kinds are mixed together? Or is it simple and not composite? Then how does it spread itself out into the many different divisions of the senses? How can there be diversity within unity? How is unity preserved within diversity?

2. Who has known the mind of the Lord Romans 11:34? the apostle asks; and I ask further, who has understood his own mind? Let those tell us who consider the nature of God to be within their comprehension, whether they understand themselves — if they know the nature of their own mind. It is manifold and much compounded. How then can that which is intelligible be composite? Or what is the mode of mixture of things that differ in kind? Or, It is simple, and incomposite. How then is it dispersed into the manifold divisions of the senses? How is there diversity in unity? How is unity maintained in diversity?

I find the solution to these problems by returning to God's own words. He says, "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness" (Genesis 1:26). An image is properly an image only as long as it lacks none of the qualities that we observe in the original. But whenever it falls short of resembling the original, it stops being an image in that respect. Therefore, since one of the qualities we recognize in the divine physis is the incomprehensibility of its essence, it is clearly necessary that the image must be able to demonstrate its imitation of the original in this point as well.

3. But I find the solution of these difficulties by recourse to the very utterance of God; for He says, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness Genesis 1:26. The image is properly an image so long as it fails in none of those attributes which we perceive in the archetype; but where it falls from its resemblance to the prototype it ceases in that respect to be an image; therefore, since one of the attributes we contemplate in the Divine nature is incomprehensibility of essence, it is clearly necessary that in this point the image should be able to show its imitation of the archetype.

If the archetype is beyond comprehension but the nature of the image could be fully understood, the opposite character of what we observe in them would demonstrate that the image is defective. However, since the nature of our mind, which is the likeness of the Creator, escapes our knowledge, it accurately resembles the superior nature by representing through its own unknowability the incomprehensible physis.

4. For if, while the archetype transcends comprehension, the nature of the image were comprehended, the contrary character of the attributes we behold in them would prove the defect of the image; but since the nature of our mind, which is the likeness of the Creator evades our knowledge, it has an accurate resemblance to the superior nature, figuring by its own unknowableness the incomprehensible Nature.

Let us bring to an end all the useless and speculative debates of those who restrict intelligent activity to certain bodily organs. Some of them claim that the ruling principle is located in the heart, while others say that the mind resides in the brain, supporting such views with certain plausible but superficial arguments. The person who attributes primary authority to the heart uses its physical location as evidence for his position, since it appears to occupy roughly the middle position in the body, arguing that impulses of the will can be easily distributed from this center to the entire body and thus proceed to action. He also points to the troubled and emotional nature of human beings as support for his argument, since such feelings seem to affect this organ directly. Those, on the other hand, who assign the brain to reasoning, say that nature has constructed the head as a kind of fortress for the entire body, and that the mind dwells in it like a king, with the senses surrounding it like attendants and bodyguards. These find evidence for their view in the fact that the reasoning of those who have suffered some injury to the brain's membrane is abnormally distorted, and that those whose heads are dulled by intoxication are unaware of what is appropriate.

1. Let there be an end, then, of all the vain and conjectural discussion of those who confine the intelligible energy to certain bodily organs; of whom some lay it down that the ruling principle is in the heart, while others say that the mind resides in the brain, strengthening such opinions by some plausible superficialities. For he who ascribes the principal authority to the heart makes its local position evidence of his argument (because it seems that it somehow occupies the middle position in the body), on the ground that the motion of the will is easily distributed from the centre to the whole body, and so proceeds to operation; and he makes the troublesome and passionate disposition of man a testimony for his argument, because such affections seem to move this part sympathetically. Those, on the other hand, who consecrate the brain to reasoning, say that the head has been built by nature as a kind of citadel of the whole body, and that in it the mind dwells like a king, with a bodyguard of senses surrounding it like messengers and shield-bearers. And these find a sign of their opinion in the fact that the reasoning of those who have suffered some injury to the membrane of the brain is abnormally distorted, and that those whose heads are heavy with intoxication ignore what is seemly.

Each person who supports these views offers more physical reasons for their opinion about where the ruling principle is located. One argues that the motion that comes from the understanding is somehow related to the nature of fire, because fire and the understanding are both in constant motion. Since heat is recognized to originate in the region of the heart, he claims that the motion of the mind is combined with the mobility of heat, and he asserts that the heart, which contains heat, is the container of the intelligent nature. The other argues that the cerebral membrane (this is what they call the tissue surrounding the brain) serves as a kind of foundation or root for all the senses, and he uses this to support his argument, claiming that intellectual activity can only be located in the part where the ear, connected to it, receives the impact of sounds that strike it, and where sight (which naturally belongs to the hollow space where the eyes are positioned) creates its internal representation through the images that fall on the pupils, while the qualities of smells are distinguished there by being drawn in through the nose, and the sense of taste is tested by the cerebral membrane, which sends down sensitive nerve-processes from itself through the vertebrae of the neck to the passage at the back of the throat, connecting them with the muscles there.

2. Each of those who uphold these views puts forward some reasons of a more physical character on behalf of his opinion concerning the ruling principle. One declares that the motion which proceeds from the understanding is in some way akin to the nature of fire, because fire and the understanding are alike in perpetual motion; and since heat is allowed to have its source in the region of the heart, he says on this ground that the motion of mind is compounded with the mobility of heat, and asserts that the heart, in which heat is enclosed, is the receptacle of the intelligent nature. The other declares that the cerebral membrane (for so they call the tissue that surrounds the brain) is as it were a foundation or root of all the senses, and hereby makes good his own argument, on the ground that the intellectual energy cannot have its seat save in that part where the ear, connected with it, comes into concussion with the sounds that fall upon it, and the sight (which naturally belongs to the hollow of the place where the eyes are situated) makes its internal representation by means of the images that fall upon the pupils, while the qualities of scents are discerned in it by being drawn in through the nose, and the sense of taste is tried by the test of the cerebral membrane, which sends down from itself, by the veterbræ of the neck, sensitive nerve-processes to the isthmoidal passage, and unites them with the muscles there.

I admit it is true that the intellectual part of the soul is often disturbed when passions dominate, and that reason is dulled by some bodily accident that hinders its natural operation. I also acknowledge that the heart is a kind of source of the fiery element in the body and moves in response to the impulses of passion. Furthermore, I do not reject the account I hear from those who devote themselves to anatomical research—namely, that the cerebral membrane (according to those who hold this physiological view) wraps around the brain and is saturated with the vapors rising from it, forming a foundation for the senses. Yet I do not consider this proof that incorporeal nature is confined by any spatial boundaries.

3. I admit it to be true that the intellectual part of the soul is often disturbed by prevalence of passions; and that the reason is blunted by some bodily accident so as to hinder its natural operation; and that the heart is a sort of source of the fiery element in the body, and is moved in correspondence with the impulses of passion; and moreover, in addition to this, I do not reject (as I hear very much the same account from those who spend their time on anatomical researches) the statement that the cerebral membrane (according to the theory of those who take such a physiological view), enfolding in itself the brain, and steeped in the vapours that issue from it, forms a foundation for the senses; yet I do not hold this for a proof that the incorporeal nature is bounded by any limits of place.

We recognize that mental disturbances don't come only from heaviness of the head. Skilled physicians tell us that our intellect is also weakened when the membranes under the ribs are affected by disease. They call this disease frenzy, since those membranes are named φρένες. The sensation that comes from sorrow is mistakenly thought to occur in the heart. In reality, it's not the heart but the upper part of the stomach that feels pain, though people mistakenly attribute this feeling to the heart. Those who have carefully studied these conditions offer an explanation like this: during grief, the body's pores compress and close naturally throughout the whole body. Everything blocked in its passage is forced into the cavities inside the body. This also affects the respiratory organs, which are pressed by what surrounds them. As a result, breathing often becomes more forceful as nature tries to widen what has contracted and open the compressed passages. We recognize this kind of breathing as a sign of grief and call it a groan or shriek. What seems to weigh down the heart region is actually a painful condition not of the heart but of the upper stomach. It happens for the same reason—the compression of the pores. The vessel containing bile contracts and pours that bitter, sharp fluid onto the upper stomach. Proof of this is that people in grief develop a pale, yellowish complexion, as the bile pours its fluid into the veins due to excessive pressure.

4. Certainly we are aware that mental aberrations do not arise from heaviness of head alone, but skilled physicians declare that our intellect is also weakened by the membranes that underlie the sides being affected by disease, when they call the disease frenzy, since the name given to those membranes is φρένες. And the sensation resulting from sorrow is mistakenly supposed to arise at the heart; for while it is not the heart, but the entrance of the belly that is pained, people ignorantly refer the affection to the heart. Those, however, who have carefully studied the affections in question give some such account as follows:– by a compression and closing of the pores, which naturally takes place over the whole body in a condition of grief, everything that meets a hindrance in its passage is driven to the cavities in the interior of the body, and hence also (as the respiratory organs too are pressed by what surrounds them), the drawing of breath often becomes more violent under the influence of nature endeavouring to widen what has been contracted, so as to open out the compressed passages; and such breathing we consider a symptom of grief and call it a groan or a shriek. That, moreover, which appears to oppress the region of the heart is a painful affection, not of the heart, but of the entrance of the stomach, and occurs from the same cause (I mean, that of the compression of the pores), as the vessel that contains the bile, contracting, pours that bitter and pungent juice upon the entrance of the stomach; and a proof of this is that the complexion of those in grief becomes sallow and jaundiced, as the bile pours its own juice into the veins by reason of excessive pressure.

Furthermore, the opposite reaction—namely, joy and laughter—helps support this argument. When people dissolve in laughter after hearing something pleasant, the pores of the body are also somehow dissolved and relaxed. Just as in the previous case, grief blocks the small and imperceptible exhalations from the pores and, as these compress the internal structure of the upper organs, they drive humid vapor upward toward the head and the cerebral membrane. This vapor, being retained excessively in the cavities of the brain, is forced out through the pores at the brain's base, while the closing of the eyelids expels the moisture in the form of drops (and the drop is called a tear). Similarly, I want you to understand that when the pores are unusually widened as a result of the opposite condition, some air is drawn in through them into the interior, and then expelled again by nature through the passage of the mouth. All the internal organs (and especially, as they say, the liver) join in expelling this air through a certain agitation and throbbing motion. Consequently, nature, arranging to provide an easy exit for the air, widens the passage of the mouth, extending the cheeks on both sides around the breath. The result is called laughter.

5. Furthermore, the opposite affection, that, I mean, of mirth and laughter, contributes to establish the argument; for the pores of the body, in the case of those who are dissolved in mirth by hearing something pleasant, are also somehow dissolved and relaxed. Just as in the former case the slight and insensible exhalations of the pores are checked by grief, and, as they compress the internal arrangement of the higher viscera, drive up towards the head and the cerebral membrane the humid vapour which, being retained in excess by the cavities of the brain, is driven out by the pores at its base, while the closing of the eyelids expels the moisture in the form of drops (and the drop is called a tear), so I would have you think that when the pores, as a result of the contrary condition, are unusually widened, some air is drawn in through them into the interior, and thence again expelled by nature through the passage of the mouth, while all the viscera (and especially, as they say, the liver) join in expelling this air by a certain agitation and throbbing motion; whence it comes that nature, contriving to give facility for the exit of the air, widens the passage of the mouth, extending the cheeks on either side round about the breath; and the result is called laughter.

We must not, then, for this reason assign the ruling principle to the liver any more than we must think, because of the heated condition of the blood around the heart in angry states, that the seat of the mind is in the heart. Rather, we must attribute these matters to the character of our bodily organization, and recognize that the mind is equally in contact with each of the bodily parts according to a kind of combination that cannot be described.

6. We must not, then, on this account ascribe the ruling principle any more to the liver than we must think, because of the heated state of the blood about the heart in wrathful dispositions, that the seat of the mind is in the heart; but we must refer these matters to the character of our bodily organization, and consider that the mind is equally in contact with each of the parts according to a kind of combination which is indescribable.

Even if someone claims on this point that Scripture assigns the ruling principle to the heart, we will not accept this statement without examination. For the one who mentions the heart also speaks of the kidneys when he says, "God tries the hearts and kidneys." Therefore, they must either confine the intellectual principle to both organs combined or to neither.

7. Even if any should allege to us on this point the Scripture which claims the ruling principle for the heart, we shall not receive the statement without examination; for he who makes mention of the heart speaks also of the reins, when he says, God tries the hearts and reins; so that they must either confine the intellectual principle to the two combined or to neither.

And although I am aware that the mind's activity becomes dulled or even completely ineffective under certain bodily conditions, I do not consider this sufficient evidence for confining the faculty of mind to any particular location, as if it could be forced out of its proper extent of free space by any inflammations that might arise in neighboring parts of the body (for such an opinion is a materialistic one, that when a container is already occupied by something placed in it, nothing else can find space there). For the intelligible nature neither dwells in the empty spaces of bodies nor is pushed out by encroachments of the flesh. Rather, since the whole body is made like a musical instrument, just as it often happens with those who know how to play but are unable to demonstrate their skill because the instrument's poor condition does not allow their art to work (for an instrument that has been destroyed by time, or broken by a fall, or rendered useless by rust or decay, remains mute and ineffective even if breathed upon by someone who may be an excellent flute player), so too the mind, passing over the whole instrument and touching each of its parts in a manner corresponding to its intellectual activities according to its physis, produces its proper effect on those parts which are in a natural condition, but remains inactive and ineffective upon those which are unable to receive the movement of its art. For the mind is somehow naturally adapted to be in close relation with that which is in a natural condition, but to be alien from that which has departed from physis.

8. And although I am aware that the intellectual energies are blunted, or even made altogether ineffective in a certain condition of the body, I do not hold this a sufficient evidence for limiting the faculty of the mind by any particular place, so that it should be forced out of its proper amount of free space by any inflammations that may arise in the neighbouring parts of the body (for such an opinion is a corporeal one, that when the receptacle is already occupied by something placed in it, nothing else can find place there); for the intelligible nature neither dwells in the empty spaces of bodies, nor is extruded by encroachments of the flesh; but since the whole body is made like some musical instrument, just as it often happens in the case of those who know how to play, but are unable, because the unfitness of the instrument does not admit of their art, to show their skill (for that which is destroyed by time, or broken by a fall, or rendered useless by rust or decay, is mute and inefficient, even if it be breathed upon by one who may be an excellent artist in flute-playing); so too the mind, passing over the whole instrument, and touching each of the parts in a mode corresponding to its intellectual activities, according to its nature, produces its proper effect on those parts which are in a natural condition, but remains inoperative and ineffective upon those which are unable to admit the movement of its art; for the mind is somehow naturally adapted to be in close relation with that which is in a natural condition, but to be alien from that which is removed from nature.

Since the highest and most beautiful good of all is the Divinity itself, toward which all things incline that have a tendency toward what is beautiful and good, we therefore say that the mind, being in the image of the most beautiful, also remains in beauty and goodness as long as it shares as much as possible in likeness to the archetype. But if it departs from this in any way, it loses that beauty in which it existed. And just as we said that the mind was adorned by the likeness of the archetypal beauty, being formed like a mirror to receive the image of what it represents, we consider that the physis governed by it is attached to the mind in the same relationship, and that it too is adorned by the beauty the mind gives, being, so to speak, a mirror of the mirror. And through this physis, the material element of that existence in which the physis is observed is directed and sustained.

9. And here, I think there is a view of the matter more close to nature, by which we may learn something of the more refined doctrines. For since the most beautiful and supreme good of all is the Divinity Itself, to which incline all things that have a tendency towards what is beautiful and good, we therefore say that the mind, as being in the image of the most beautiful, itself also remains in beauty and goodness so long as it partakes as far as is possible in its likeness to the archetype; but if it were at all to depart from this it is deprived of that beauty in which it was. And as we said that the mind was adorned by the likeness of the archetypal beauty, being formed as though it were a mirror to receive the figure of that which it expresses, we consider that the nature which is governed by it is attached to the mind in the same relation, and that it too is adorned by the beauty that the mind gives, being, so to say, a mirror of the mirror; and that by it is swayed and sustained the material element of that existence in which the nature is contemplated.

So as long as one remains connected to the other, the communication of true beauty extends proportionally through the entire sequence, with the superior nature beautifying what comes next to it. But when this beneficial connection is interrupted, or when the superior begins to follow the inferior instead, then the deformed character of matter is revealed—matter being isolated from physis (for matter in itself is formless and structureless). Through its formlessness, the beauty of physis, which is adorned through the mind, is also destroyed. The ugliness of matter then transmits itself through the physis to the mind itself, so that the image of God is no longer visible in the form expressed by what was molded according to it. For the mind, placing the idea of the good like a mirror behind its back, deflects the incoming rays of the radiance of the good and receives into itself the imprint of matter's formlessness.

10. Thus so long as one keeps in touch with the other, the communication of the true beauty extends proportionally through the whole series, beautifying by the superior nature that which comes next to it; but when there is any interruption of this beneficent connection, or when, on the contrary, the superior comes to follow the inferior, then is displayed the misshapen character of matter, when it is isolated from nature (for in itself matter is a thing without form or structure), and by its shapelessness is also destroyed that beauty of nature with which it is adorned through the mind; and so the transmission of the ugliness of matter reaches through the nature to the mind itself, so that the image of God is no longer seen in the figure expressed by that which was moulded according to it; for the mind, setting the idea of good like a mirror behind the back, turns off the incident rays of the effulgence of the good, and it receives into itself the impress of the shapelessness of matter.

This is how evil comes into being: it arises through the withdrawal of what is beautiful and good. Everything that is closely connected to the First Good is beautiful and good, but whatever departs from its relationship and likeness to this is certainly without beauty and goodness. If, then, according to the statement we have been examining, the truly good is one, and the mind itself also has its power to be beautiful and good insofar as it exists in the image of the good and beautiful, and the physis, which is sustained by the mind, has the same power insofar as it is an image of the image, this shows that our material part holds together and is sustained when it is controlled by physis. On the other hand, it dissolves and breaks apart when it is separated from what upholds and sustains it, and is cut off from its connection with beauty and goodness.

11. And in this way is brought about the genesis of evil, arising through the withdrawal of that which is beautiful and good. Now all is beautiful and good that is closely related to the First Good; but that which departs from its relation and likeness to this is certainly devoid of beauty and goodness. If, then, according to the statement we have been considering, that which is truly good is one, and the mind itself also has its power of being beautiful and good, in so far as it is in the image of the good and beautiful, and the nature, which is sustained by the mind, has the like power, in so far as it is an image of the image, it is hereby shown that our material part holds together, and is upheld when it is controlled by nature; and on the other hand is dissolved and disorganized when it is separated from that which upholds and sustains it, and is dissevered from its conjunction with beauty and goodness.

Such a condition only arises when nature is overturned to the opposite state, where desire has no inclination for beauty and goodness but for that which lacks the adorning element. For it is necessary that whatever is made like matter—which is formless by its own physis—should be assimilated to it in its lack of both form and beauty.

12. Now such a condition as this does not arise except when there takes place an overturning of nature to the opposite state, in which the desire has no inclination for beauty and goodness, but for that which is in need of the adorning element; for it must needs be that that which is made like to matter, destitute as matter is of form of its own, should be assimilated to it in respect of the absence alike of form and of beauty.

We have discussed these points in passing, as they followed from our argument, since our speculation on the matter before us brought them up. The question under consideration was whether the intellectual faculty resides in any particular part of us or extends equally over all our parts. Some people confine the mind locally to specific parts of the body and support this view by pointing out that reason does not function properly in those whose brain membranes are in an abnormal condition. However, our argument showed that for every part of man's compound nature—through which each person carries out some natural function—the soul's power remains equally ineffective if that part does not remain in its natural condition. Following this line of thought, our argument led to the view we just stated: in man's compound nature, the mind is governed by God, and through it our material life is governed, provided that material life remains in its natural state. But if it is perverted from its natural state, it is also alienated from the operation carried on by the mind.

13. We have, however, discussed these points in passing, as following on our argument, since they were introduced by our speculation on the point before us; for the subject of enquiry was, whether the intellectual faculty has its seat in any of the parts of us, or extends equally over them all; for as for those who shut up the mind locally in parts of the body, and who advance for the establishment of this opinion of theirs the fact that the reason has not free course in the case of those whose cerebral membranes are in an unnatural condition, our argument showed that in respect of every part of the compound nature of man, whereby every man has some natural operation, the power of the soul remains equally ineffective if the part does not continue in its natural condition. And thus there came into our argument, following out this line of thought, the view we have just stated, by which we learn that in the compound nature of man the mind is governed by God, and that by it is governed our material life, provided the latter remains in its natural state, but if it is perverted from nature it is alienated also from that operation which is carried on by the mind.

Let us return once more to the point where we started—that in people who are not twisted away from their natural condition by some disorder, the mind exercises its own power and is firmly established in those who are in sound health. But on the contrary, it is powerless in those who do not allow it to operate. We may confirm our opinion on these matters by still other arguments. If those who are already tired of our discussion are not too weary to listen, we will discuss these matters also, as far as we are able, in a few words.

14. Let us return however once more to the point from which we started — that in those who are not perverted from their natural condition by some affection, the mind exercises its own power, and is established firmly in those who are in sound health, but on the contrary is powerless in those who do not admit its operation; for we may confirm our opinion on these matters by yet other arguments: and if it is not tedious for those to hear who are already wearied with our discourse, we shall discuss these matters also, so far as we are able, in a few words.

This bodily life of ours, being material and subject to constant change, always moving forward through motion, derives the power of its existence from the fact that it never stops moving. Just as a river flowing by its own force keeps its channel full, yet the same water is never seen in the same place—part of it flows away while more water flows in—so too the material element of our earthly life undergoes change through the continuous succession of opposites by means of motion and flux, never able to stop changing. Because it cannot rest, it maintains its motion unceasingly, alternating in similar patterns. If it were ever to stop moving, it would certainly also cease to exist.

1. This life of our bodies, material and subject to flux, always advancing by way of motion, finds the power of its being in this, that it never rests from its motion: and as some river, flowing on by its own impulse, keeps the channel in which it runs well filled, yet is not seen in the same water always at the same place, but part of it glides away while part comes flowing on, so, too, the material element of our life here suffers change in the continuity of its succession of opposites by way of motion and flux, so that it never can desist from change, but in its inability to rest keeps up unceasingly its motion alternating by like ways: and if it should ever cease moving it will assuredly have cessation also of its being.

For example, emptying follows fullness, and on the other hand after emptiness comes in turn a process of filling. Sleep relaxes the tension of waking, and again, waking braces up what had become slack. Neither of these continues constantly, but both give way as each one arrives. Nature renews herself through their exchange in such a way that, while taking part in each in turn, she passes from one to the other without interruption. If a living creature were always exerting itself in its activities, this would produce a kind of rupture and separation in the overstrained part. Continual rest of the body brings about a kind of dissolution and looseness in its structure. But experiencing each of these at the proper times in moderate measure is a sustaining power of nature, which gives herself rest from one through continual transfer to the opposite states. She finds the body strained through wakefulness and creates relaxation for the strain by means of sleep, giving the perceptive faculties rest for the time from their activities, releasing them like horses from chariots after the race.

2. For instance, emptying succeeds fullness, and on the other hand after emptiness comes in turn a process of filling: sleep relaxes the strain of waking, and, again, awakening braces up what had become slack: and neither of these abides continually, but both give way, each at the other's coming; nature thus by their interchange so renewing herself as, while partaking of each in turn, to pass from the one to the other without break. For that the living creature should always be exerting itself in its operations produces a certain rupture and severance of the overstrained part; and continual quiescence of the body brings about a certain dissolution and laxity in its frame: but to be in touch with each of these at the proper times in a moderate degree is a staying-power of nature, which, by continual transference to the opposed states, gives herself in each of them rest from the other. Thus she finds the body on the strain through wakefulness, and devises relaxation for the strain by means of sleep, giving the perceptive faculties rest for the time from their operations, loosing them like horses from the chariots after the race.

Additional rest at appropriate times is necessary for the body's structure so that nourishment can spread throughout the entire body through its internal passages without any strain interfering with this process. Just as certain misty vapors rise from the depths of the earth when it is saturated with rain and the sun heats it with sufficiently warm rays, a similar thing happens in the earth that is within us when the nourishment inside is heated by natural warmth. These vapors, which naturally tend upward and have an airy nature, and which rise toward what is above them, reach the area of the head like smoke penetrating the cracks in a wall. From there they are dispersed by evaporation into the passages of the sense organs, and through this process the senses naturally become inactive, yielding to the passage of these vapors. The eyes are pressed down by the eyelids when something like a leaden weight (I mean the kind of weight I have just described) lowers the eyelid onto the eyes. The hearing, dulled by these same vapors as if a door were placed over the acoustic organs, stops its natural activity. This condition is sleep—when the sense organs rest in the body and completely stop their natural motion, allowing the digestive processes of nourishment to proceed freely as the vapors transmit it through each of the passages.

3. Further, rest at proper times is necessary for the framework of the body, that the nutriment may be diffused over the whole body through the passages which it contains, without any strain to hinder its progress. For just as certain misty vapours are drawn up from the recesses of the earth when it is soaked with rain, whenever the sun heats it with rays of any considerable warmth, so a similar result happens in the earth that is in us, when the nutriment within is heated up by natural warmth; and the vapours, being naturally of upward tendency and airy nature, and aspiring to that which is above them, come to be in the region of the head like smoke penetrating the joints of a wall: then they are dispersed thence by exhalation to the passages of the organs of sense, and by them the senses are of course rendered inactive, giving way to the transit of these vapours. For the eyes are pressed upon by the eyelids when some leaden instrument, as it were (I mean such a weight as that I have spoken of), lets down the eyelid upon the eyes; and the hearing, being dulled by these same vapours, as though a door were placed upon the acoustic organs, rests from its natural operation: and such a condition is sleep, when the sense is at rest in the body, and altogether ceases from the operation of its natural motion, so that the digestive processes of nutriment may have free course for transmission by the vapours through each of the passages.

When the sensory organs are closed and sleep is prevented by some activity, the nervous system becomes filled with vapors and naturally extends itself on its own, so that the part made denser by the vapors is thinned out through this stretching process—much like people who wring water out of clothes by twisting them forcefully. Since the areas around the throat are somewhat circular in shape and contain abundant nervous tissue, whenever the dense vapors need to be expelled from that area—and because a circular part cannot be separated directly but only by expanding along its circumference—for this reason, by holding the breath during a yawn, the chin moves downward to create a hollow space beneath the uvula, and all the inner parts arrange themselves in a circular shape, allowing that smoky density trapped in the surrounding areas to be released along with the outgoing breath. This same thing often happens even after sleep when some portion of these vapors remains undigested and unexpelled in that region.

4. And for this reason, if the apparatus of the organs of sense should be closed and sleep hindered by some occupation, the nervous system, becoming filled with the vapours, is naturally and spontaneously extended so that the part which has had its density increased by the vapours is rarefied by the process of extension, just as those do who squeeze the water out of clothes by vehement wringing: and, seeing that the parts about the pharynx are somewhat circular, and nervous tissue abounds there, whenever there is need for the expulsion from that part of the density of the vapours — since it is impossible that the part which is circular in shape should be separated directly, but only by being distended in the outline of its circumference — for this reason, by checking the breath in a yawn the chin is moved downwards so as to leave a hollow to the uvula, and all the interior parts being arranged in the figure of a circle, that smoky denseness which had been detained in the neighbouring parts is emitted together with the exit of the breath. And often the like may happen even after sleep when any portion of those vapours remains in the region spoken of undigested and unexhaled.

Hence the mind of man clearly proves its claim to connection with his physis, itself also cooperating and moving with the physis in its sound and waking state, but remaining unmoved when it is abandoned to sleep, unless anyone supposes that the imagery of dreams is a motion of the mind exercised in sleep. We for our part say that it is only the conscious and sound action of the intellect which we ought to refer to mind; and as to the fantastic nonsense which occurs to us in sleep, we suppose that some appearances of the operations of the mind are accidentally formed in the less rational part of the soul. For the soul, being separated from the senses by sleep, is also necessarily outside the range of the operations of the mind, because it is through the senses that the union of mind with man takes place. Therefore when the senses are at rest, the intellect also must be inactive. Evidence of this is the fact that the dreamer often seems to be in absurd and impossible situations, which would not happen if the soul were then guided by reason and intellect.

5. Hence the mind of man clearly proves its claim to connection with his nature, itself also co-operating and moving with the nature in its sound and waking state, but remaining unmoved when it is abandoned to sleep, unless any one supposes that the imagery of dreams is a motion of the mind exercised in sleep. We for our part say that it is only the conscious and sound action of the intellect which we ought to refer to mind; and as to the fantastic nonsense which occurs to us in sleep, we suppose that some appearances of the operations of the mind are accidentally moulded in the less rational part of the soul; for the soul, being by sleep dissociated from the senses, is also of necessity outside the range of the operations of the mind; for it is through the senses that the union of mind with man takes place; therefore when the senses are at rest, the intellect also must needs be inactive; and an evidence of this is the fact that the dreamer often seems to be in absurd and impossible situations, which would not happen if the soul were then guided by reason and intellect.

However, it seems to me that when the soul is at rest with regard to its higher faculties (that is, with regard to the operations of mind and sense), only the nutritive part of it is active during sleep. Some shadows and echoes of things that happen during our waking hours—the operations of both sense and intellect—are impressed upon it by that part of the soul capable of memory. These impressions are pictured randomly, as chance determines, with some echo of memory still lingering in this part of the soul.

6. It seems to me, however, that when the soul is at rest so far as concerns its more excellent faculties (so far, I mean, as concerns the operations of mind and sense), the nutritive part of it alone is operative during sleep, and that some shadows and echoes of those things which happen in our waking moments — of the operations both of sense and of intellect — which are impressed upon it by that part of the soul which is capable of memory, that these, I say, are pictured as chance will have it, some echo of memory still lingering in this division of the soul.

With these confused images, then, a person is deceived, not being led to understand what appears before him through any logical thought process, but wandering among mixed-up and disconnected illusions. But just as in bodily functions, while each individual part acts in some way according to the power that naturally belongs to it, a part that is resting also experiences something in sympathy with the part that is moving, similarly with the soul—even if one part is resting and another is moving, the whole is affected in sympathy with that part. The natural unity cannot be divided in any way, though whichever faculty is actively operating takes the lead at that moment. When people are awake and active, the mind is in charge and the senses serve it, yet the faculty that regulates the body is not separated from them (the mind provides what the body needs, the senses receive what is provided, and the nutritive faculty of the body takes for itself what is given to it). In the same way during sleep, the supremacy of these faculties is somehow reversed in us. While the less rational faculty becomes supreme, the operation of the others does stop, but is not completely extinguished. During sleep the nutritive faculty is busy with digestion and keeps our whole nature occupied with itself. The faculty of sense is neither entirely separated from it (because what has been naturally joined cannot be separated), nor can its activity come back to life, since it is prevented by the inactivity of the sense organs during sleep. By the same reasoning (since the mind is also united to the sensitive part of the soul), it follows that we should say the mind moves along with the sensitive part when it moves, and rests along with it when it is at rest.

7. With these, then, the man is beguiled, not led to acquaintance with the things that present themselves by any train of thought, but wandering among confused and inconsequent delusions. But just as in his bodily operations, while each of the parts individually acts in some way according to the power which naturally resides in it, there arises also in the limb that is at rest a state sympathetic with that which is in motion, similarly in the case of the soul, even if one part is at rest and another in motion, the whole is affected in sympathy with the part; for it is not possible that the natural unity should be in any way severed, though one of the faculties included in it is in turn supreme in virtue of its active operation. But as, when men are awake and busy, the mind is supreme, and sense ministers to it, yet the faculty which regulates the body is not dissociated from them (for the mind furnishes the food for its wants, the sense receives what is furnished, and the nutritive faculty of the body appropriates to itself that which is given to it), so in sleep the supremacy of these faculties is in some way reversed in us, and while the less rational becomes supreme, the operation of the other ceases indeed, yet is not absolutely extinguished; but while the nutritive faculty is then busied with digestion during sleep, and keeps all our nature occupied with itself, the faculty of sense is neither entirely severed from it (for that cannot be separated which has once been naturally joined), nor yet can its activity revive, as it is hindered by the inaction during sleep of the organs of sense; and by the same reasoning (the mind also being united to the sensitive part of the soul) it would follow that we should say that the mind moves with the latter when it is in motion, and rests with it when it is quiescent.

When fire is covered with chaff and no breath of air fans the flame, it neither consumes what lies next to it nor is completely put out. Instead of producing flame, it rises through the chaff into the air as smoke. But if it gets any breath of air, it turns the smoke back into flame. In the same way, when the mind is hidden by the inactivity of the senses during sleep, it can neither shine out through them nor is it entirely extinguished. Rather, it has a kind of smoldering activity—it operates to some degree, but it cannot operate any further.

8. As naturally happens with fire when it is heaped over with chaff, and no breath fans the flame — it neither consumes what lies beside it, nor is entirely quenched, but instead of flame it rises to the air through the chaff in the form of smoke; yet if it should obtain any breath of air, it turns the smoke to flame — in the same way the mind when hidden by the inaction of the senses in sleep is neither able to shine out through them, nor yet is quite extinguished, but has, so to say, a smouldering activity, operating to a certain extent, but unable to operate farther.

Again, just as a musician touches the loosened strings of a lyre with his plectrum but produces no orderly melody (since strings that are not properly tightened will not sound), yet his hand often moves skillfully, bringing the plectrum to where the notes should be in terms of position, though there is no sound except a kind of uncertain and indistinct hum produced by the vibration of the strings—in the same way during sleep, when the mechanism of the senses is relaxed, the artist is either completely inactive if the instrument is fully loosened by satiety or heaviness, or will act sluggishly and weakly if the instrument of the senses does not fully allow for the exercise of its art.

9. Again, as a musician, when he touches with the plectrum the slackened strings of a lyre, brings out no orderly melody (for that which is not stretched will not sound), but his hand frequently moves skilfully, bringing the plectrum to the position of the notes so far as place is concerned, yet there is no sound, except that he produces by the vibration of the strings a sort of uncertain and indistinct hum; so in sleep the mechanism of the senses being relaxed, the artist is either quite inactive, if the instrument is completely relaxed by satiety or heaviness; or will act slackly and faintly, if the instrument of the senses does not fully admit of the exercise of its art.

For this reason, memory becomes confused, and foreknowledge, though made uncertain by obscure veils, appears in shadows of our waking activities and often shows us something of what will happen. Because of its subtle nature, the mind has some advantage over mere bodily density in its ability to see things. Yet it cannot communicate its meaning clearly through direct means, so that the information about what is at hand would be plain and obvious. Instead, its declaration of the future is ambiguous and uncertain—what those who interpret such things call an enigma.

10. For this cause memory is confused, and foreknowledge, though rendered doubtful by uncertain veils, is imaged in shadows of our waking pursuits, and often indicates to us something of what is going to happen: for by its subtlety of nature the mind has some advantage, in ability to behold things, over mere corporeal grossness; yet it cannot make its meaning clear by direct methods, so that the information of the matter in hand should be plain and evident, but its declaration of the future is ambiguous and doubtful — what those who interpret such things call an enigma.

So the butler presses the grapes for Pharaoh's cup, and the baker seemed to carry his baskets. Each one imagined himself in sleep to be doing the work he was busy with when awake. The images of their regular tasks, stamped on the foreknowing part of their soul, gave them the temporary ability to predict what would happen through this kind of mental prophecy.

11. So the butler presses the cluster for Pharaoh's cup: so the baker seemed to carry his baskets; each supposing himself in sleep to be engaged in those services with which he was busied when awake: for the images of their customary occupations imprinted on the prescient element of their soul, gave them for a time the power of foretelling, by this sort of prophecy on the part of the mind, what should come to pass.

But if Daniel and Joseph and others like them were instructed by Divine power, without any confusion of perception, in the knowledge of things to come, this has nothing to do with what we're discussing here. No one would attribute this to the power of dreams, since doing so would force him to conclude that those Divine appearances which also took place while people were awake were not miraculous visions but simply natural occurrences happening on their own. So then, while all people are guided by their own minds, there are a few who are considered worthy of clear Divine communication. In the same way, while the imagination during sleep naturally occurs in a similar and equal manner for everyone, some—not all—share through their dreams in a more Divine revelation. But for everyone else, even if some foreknowledge of anything does occur as a result of dreams, it occurs in the way we have described.

12. But if Daniel and Joseph and others like them were instructed by Divine power, without any confusion of perception, in the knowledge of things to come, this is nothing to the present statement; for no one would ascribe this to the power of dreams, since he will be constrained as a consequence to suppose that those Divine appearances also which took place in wakefulness were not a miraculous vision but a result of nature brought about spontaneously. As then, while all men are guided by their own minds, there are some few who are deemed worthy of evident Divine communication; so, while the imagination of sleep naturally occurs in a like and equivalent manner for all, some, not all, share by means of their dreams in some more Divine manifestation: but to all the rest even if a foreknowledge of anything does occur as a result of dreams, it occurs in the way we have spoken of.

And again, if the Egyptian and Assyrian kings were guided by God to know the future, the divine plan worked through them is a different matter. It was necessary for the hidden wisdom of the holy men to be revealed, so that each of them would not spend his life without being useful to the state. For how could Daniel have been recognized for who he was if the soothsayers and magicians had not failed to discover the dream? And how could Egypt have been preserved while Joseph was locked up in prison if his interpretation of the dream had not brought him to public attention? Therefore, we must consider these cases as exceptional and not group them together with ordinary dreams.

13. And again, if the Egyptian and the Assyrian king were guided by God to the knowledge of the future, the dispensation wrought by their means is a different thing: for it was necessary that the hidden wisdom of the holy men should be made known, that each of them might not pass his life without profit to the state. For how could Daniel have been known for what he was, if the soothsayers and magicians had not been unequal to the task of discovering the dream? And how could Egypt have been preserved while Joseph was shut up in prison, if his interpretation of the dream had not brought him to notice? Thus we must reckon these cases as exceptional, and not class them with common dreams.

But this ordinary experience of dreams is common to all people and arises in our imaginations in different ways and forms. Either there remain, as we have said, in the memory part of the soul the echoes of daily activities, or, as often happens, the structure of dreams is shaped according to a particular condition of the body. For example, the thirsty person seems to be among springs, the person who needs food seems to be at a feast, and the young man in the heat of youthful energy is troubled by imaginings that match his passion.

14. But this ordinary seeing of dreams is common to all men, and arises in our fancies in different modes and forms: for either there remain, as we have said, in the reminiscent part of the soul, the echoes of daily occupations; or, as often happens, the constitution of dreams is framed with regard to such and such a condition of the body: for thus the thirsty man seems to be among springs, the man who is in need of food to be at a feast, and the young man in the heat of youthful vigour is beset by fancies corresponding to his passion.

I also learned of another cause of sleep fantasies when I was caring for one of my relatives who was suffering from delirium. His body was being burdened by more food than his strength could handle, and he kept crying out and complaining to his caregivers that they were filling intestines with excrement and putting them on him. When his body was moving rapidly toward perspiration, he accused those around him of having water ready to drench him as he lay there. He didn't stop complaining until the outcome revealed what these complaints meant: suddenly a heavy sweat broke out all over his body, and a loosening of the bowels explained the heaviness in his intestines. The same condition that his nature experienced while his sound judgment was clouded by illness—his body being affected in sympathy with its physical state, not lacking awareness of what was wrong but unable to express its pain clearly because of the confusion caused by the disease—this same condition would probably appear as a dream to someone in a similar situation if the intelligent principle of the soul were put to rest not by illness but by natural sleep, with the outbreak of sweat represented by water and the pain caused by the food represented by the weight of intestines.

15. I also knew another cause of the fancies of sleep, when attending one of my relations attacked by frenzy; who being annoyed by food being given him in too great quantity for his strength, kept crying out and finding fault with those who were about him for filling intestines with dung and putting them upon him: and when his body was rapidly tending to perspire he blamed those who were with him for having water ready to wet him with as he lay: and he did not cease calling out till the result showed the meaning of these complaints: for all at once a copious sweat broke out over his body, and a relaxation of the bowels explained the weight in the intestines. The same condition then which, while his sober judgment was dulled by disease, his nature underwent, being sympathetically affected by the condition of the body — not being without perception of what was amiss, but being unable clearly to express its pain, by reason of the distraction resulting from the disease — this, probably, if the intelligent principle of the soul were lulled to rest, not from infirmity but by natural sleep, might appear as a dream to one similarly situated, the breaking out of perspiration being expressed by water, and the pain occasioned by the food, by the weight of intestines.

Those skilled in medicine also take this view: that dream visions appear differently to patients according to the differences in their illnesses. The visions of those with weak stomachs are of one kind, those of people suffering from injury to the cerebral membrane are of another, and those of people with fevers are of yet another. The visions of patients suffering from bilious and phlegmatic conditions are diverse, and those of plethoric patients and patients in wasting disease are different. From this we may see that the nutritive and vegetative faculty of the soul has in it by mixture some seed of the intelligent element, which is in some sense brought into likeness with the particular state of the body, being adapted in its imaginings according to the illness that has seized upon it.

16. This view also is taken by those skilled in medicine, that according to the differences of complaints the visions of dreams appear differently to the patients: that the visions of those of weak stomach are of one kind, those of persons suffering from injury to the cerebral membrane of another, those of persons in fevers of yet another; that those of patients suffering from bilious and from phlegmatic affections are diverse, and those again of plethoric patients, and of patients in wasting disease, are different; whence we may see that the nutritive and vegetative faculty of the soul has in it by commixture some seed of the intelligent element, which is in some sense brought into likeness to the particular state of the body, being adapted in its fancies according to the complaint which has seized upon it.

Moreover, most people's dreams match the state of their character: a brave person's mental images are one kind, while a coward's are another; a lustful person's dreams are one kind, while a self-controlled person's are another; a generous person and a greedy person experience different mental images. These images are not produced by the intellect at all, but by the less rational part of the soul, which creates even in dreams the likenesses of those things that each person is accustomed to through their waking behavior.

17. Moreover, most men's dreams are conformed to the state of their character: the brave man's fancies are of one kind, the coward's of another; the wanton man's dreams of one kind, the continent man's of another; the liberal man and the avaricious man are subject to different fancies; while these fancies are nowhere framed by the intellect, but by the less rational disposition of the soul, which forms even in dreams the semblances of those things to which each is accustomed by the practice of his waking hours.

But we have wandered far from our subject, for the purpose of our argument was to show that the mind is not restricted to any part of the body, but is equally in contact with the whole, producing its motion according to the physis of the part which is under its influence. There are cases, however, in which the mind even follows the bodily impulses and becomes, as it were, their servant; for often the bodily physis takes the lead by introducing either the sense of what gives pain or the desire for what gives pleasure, so that it may be said to furnish the first beginnings by producing in us the desire for food or, generally, the impulse toward some pleasant thing. Meanwhile, the mind, receiving such an impulse, furnishes the body through its own intelligence with the proper means toward the desired object. Such a condition, indeed, does not occur in all, but only in those of a somewhat slavish disposition, who bring reason into bondage to the impulses of their physis and pay servile homage to the pleasures of sense by allowing them the alliance of their mind. But in the case of more perfect men this does not happen; for the mind takes the lead and chooses the expedient course by reason and not by passion, while their physis follows in the tracks of its leader.

1. But we have wandered far from our subject, for the purpose of our argument was to show that the mind is not restricted to any part of the body, but is equally in touch with the whole, producing its motion according to the nature of the part which is under its influence. There are cases, however, in which the mind even follows the bodily impulses, and becomes, as it were, their servant; for often the bodily nature takes the lead by introducing either the sense of that which gives pain or the desire for that which gives pleasure, so that it may be said to furnish the first beginnings, by producing in us the desire for food, or, generally, the impulse towards some pleasant thing; while the mind, receiving such an impulse, furnishes the body by its own intelligence with the proper means towards the desired object. Such a condition, indeed, does not occur in all, save in those of a somewhat slavish disposition, who bring the reason into bondage to the impulses of their nature and pay servile homage to the pleasures of sense by allowing them the alliance of their mind; but in the case of more perfect men this does not happen; for the mind takes the lead, and chooses the expedient course by reason and not by passion, while their nature follows in the tracks of its leader.

But since our argument identified three different varieties in our vital faculty—one that receives nourishment without perception, another that both receives nourishment and is capable of perception but lacks reasoning activity, and a third that is rational, perfect, and extends throughout the whole faculty—so that among these varieties the intellectual has the advantage—let no one suppose that in man's compound nature there are three souls fused together, each existing within its own boundaries, as though man's nature were some kind of assemblage of several souls. The true and perfect soul is by nature one, intellectual and immaterial, and it mingles with our material nature through the agency of the senses. But everything that belongs to material nature, being subject to change and alteration, will move by way of growth if it partakes of the animating power; if, on the contrary, it falls away from the vital energy, it will turn its motion toward destruction.

2. But since our argument discovered in our vital faculty three different varieties — one which receives nourishment without perception, another which at once receives nourishment and is capable of perception, but is without the reasoning activity, and a third rational, perfect, and co-extensive with the whole faculty — so that among these varieties the advantage belongs to the intellectual — let no one suppose on this account that in the compound nature of man there are three souls welded together, contemplated each in its own limits, so that one should think man's nature to be a sort of conglomeration of several souls. The true and perfect soul is naturally one, the intellectual and immaterial, which mingles with our material nature by the agency of the senses; but all that is of material nature, being subject to mutation and alteration, will, if it should partake of the animating power, move by way of growth: if, on the contrary, it should fall away from the vital energy, it will reduce its motion to destruction.

Thus, neither does perception exist without material substance, nor does the act of perception occur without the intellectual faculty.

3. Thus, neither is there perception without material substance, nor does the act of perception take place without the intellectual faculty.

Now, if some things in creation possess the nutritive faculty, and others are regulated by the perceptive faculty, while the former have no share of perception nor the latter of the intellectual nature, and if for this reason anyone is inclined to believe in a plurality of souls, such a person will be proposing a variety of souls in a way that does not accord with their proper definition. For everything we understand among existing things, if it perfectly is what it is, is also properly called by the name it bears. But when something is not in every respect what it is called, the name is also improperly used. For example: if someone were to show us true bread, we say that he properly applies the name to the thing. But if someone were to show us instead something made of stone to resemble natural bread, which has the same shape, equal size, and similar color, so that in most ways it is the same as its model, but which lacks the power of being food, on this account we say that the stone receives the name of bread, not properly, but by misuse of the term. And all things which fall under the same description, which are not absolutely what they are called, have their name from a misuse of terms.

1. Now, if some things in creation possess the nutritive faculty, and others again are regulated by the perceptive faculty, while the former have no share of perception nor the latter of the intellectual nature, and if for this reason any one is inclined to the opinion of a plurality of souls, such a man will be positing a variety of souls in a way not in accordance with their distinguishing definition. For everything which we conceive among existing things, if it be perfectly that which it is, is also properly called by the name it bears: but of that which is not every respect what it is called, the appellation also is vain. For instance:– if one were to show us true bread, we say that he properly applies the name to the subject: but if one were to show us instead that which had been made of stone to resemble the natural bread, which had the same shape, and equal size, and similarity of color, so as in most points to be the same with its prototype, but which yet lacks the power of being food, on this account we say that the stone receives the name of bread, not properly, but by a misnomer, and all things which fall under the same description, which are not absolutely what they are called, have their name from a misuse of terms.

Since the soul finds its perfection in what is intellectual and rational, everything that is not intellectual and rational may share the name "soul," but is not really soul. Rather, it is a certain vital energy that goes by the name of soul. For this reason, the One who gave laws on every matter also gave animal nature—which is not far removed from this vegetative life—for human use, to serve as food for those who partake of it in place of plants. As He says, "You shall eat all kinds of flesh even as the green herb," because the perceptive energy seems to have only a slight advantage over that which is nourished and grows without perception. Let this teach carnal people not to bind their intellect closely to the phenomena of sense, but rather to busy themselves with their spiritual advantages, since the true soul is found in these, while sense has equal power also among the brute creation.

2. Thus, as the soul finds its perfection in that which is intellectual and rational, everything that is not so may indeed share the name of soul, but is not really soul, but a certain vital energy associated with the appellation of soul. And for this reason also He Who gave laws on every matter, gave the animal nature likewise, as not far removed from this vegetative life, for the use of man, to be for those who partake of it instead of herbs:– for He says, You shall eat all kinds of flesh even as the green herb; for the perceptive energy seems to have but a slight advantage over that which is nourished and grows without it. Let this teach carnal men not to bind their intellect closely to the phenomena of sense, but rather to busy themselves with their spiritual advantages, as the true soul is found in these, while sense has equal power also among the brute creation.

Our argument has turned in a different direction. We were not exploring whether the mind's activity is superior to the material part of our makeup—that's clear enough—but rather that the mind is not limited to one particular part of us. Instead, it exists equally in all parts and throughout our whole being. It neither surrounds anything from outside nor is it enclosed within anything. Those descriptions fit containers or physical objects placed one inside another. But the union of the mental with the bodily involves a connection that cannot be fully expressed or grasped. The mind is not inside the body (since what is incorporeal cannot be enclosed in a body), nor does it surround the body from outside (since what is incorporeal does not contain anything). Rather, the mind approaches our nature in some way that defies explanation and understanding, making contact with it. We should think of it as both in the body and around it, yet not implanted in it or wrapped up with it. The manner of this union lies beyond what we can say or think, except for this: when our nature functions properly according to its own pattern, the mind is also active; but if some harm comes to the body, the mind's activity is correspondingly hindered.

3. The course of our argument, however, has diverged to another point: for the subject of our speculation was not the fact that the energy of mind is of more dignity among the attributes we conceive in man than the material element of his being, but the fact that the mind is not confined to any one part of us, but is equally in all and through all, neither surrounding anything without, nor being enclosed within anything: for these phrases are properly applied to casks or other bodies that are placed one inside the other; but the union of the mental with the bodily presents a connection unspeakable and inconceivable — not being within it (for the incorporeal is not enclosed in a body), nor yet surrounding it without (for that which is incorporeal does not include anything), but the mind approaching our nature in some inexplicable and incomprehensible way, and coming into contact with it, is to be regarded as both in it and around it, neither implanted in it nor enfolded with it, but in a way which we cannot speak or think, except so far as this, that while the nature prospers according to its own order, the mind is also operative; but if any misfortune befalls the former, the movement of the intellect halts correspondingly.

Let us now return to considering the divine word, "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness" (Genesis 1:26). How petty and how unworthy of the dignity of man are the ideas of some pagan writers who thought they were honoring humanity by comparing it to this world! They say that man is a little world, made up of the same elements as the universe. Those who praise human nature this way with such an impressive-sounding name forget that they are giving man the same attributes as a gnat or a mouse, for these creatures too are composed of these four elements. Indeed, in every living being that exists, we see a greater or lesser part of those elements, without which no sentient creature can naturally exist. What is so great, then, about man being considered a representation and likeness of the world—of the heaven that passes away, of the earth that changes, of all the things they contain, which pass away when that which surrounds them departs?

1. Let us now resume our consideration of the Divine word, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness Genesis 1:26. How mean and how unworthy of the majesty of man are the fancies of some heathen writers, who magnify humanity, as they supposed, by their comparison of it to this world! For they say that man is a little world, composed of the same elements with the universe. Those who bestow on human nature such praise as this by a high-sounding name, forget that they are dignifying man with the attributes of the gnat and the mouse: for they too are composed of these four elements — because assuredly about the animated nature of every existing thing we behold a part, greater or less, of those elements without which it is not natural that any sensitive being should exist. What great thing is there, then, in man's being accounted a representation and likeness of the world — of the heaven that passes away, of the earth that changes, of all things that they contain, which pass away with the departure of that which compasses them round?

What then makes humanity great, according to the teaching of the Church? Not our likeness to the created world, but rather our existence in the image of the Creator's nature.

2. In what then does the greatness of man consist, according to the doctrine of the Church? Not in his likeness to the created world, but in his being in the image of the nature of the Creator.

What, then, you might ask, is the definition of the image? How is the incorporeal made similar to a body? How is what is temporal like what is eternal? How is what is changeable by alteration like what is unchangeable? How is what is subject to passion and corruption like what is impassible and incorruptible? How is what constantly dwells with evil and grows up alongside it like what is absolutely free from evil? There is a great difference between what is conceived in the archetype and a thing that has been made in its image. For something is properly called an image if it preserves its resemblance to the prototype, but if the imitation is distorted away from its subject, then the thing becomes something else and is no longer an image of the subject.

3. What therefore, you will perhaps say, is the definition of the image? How is the incorporeal likened to body? How is the temporal like the eternal? That which is mutable by change like to the immutable? That which is subject to passion and corruption to the impassible and incorruptible? That which constantly dwells with evil, and grows up with it, to that which is absolutely free from evil? There is a great difference between that which is conceived in the archetype, and a thing which has been made in its image: for the image is properly so called if it keeps its resemblance to the prototype; but if the imitation be perverted from its subject, the thing is something else, and no longer an image of the subject.

How then is man, this mortal, passible, short-lived being, the image of that nature which is immortal, pure, and everlasting? The true answer to this question perhaps only the very Truth knows. But this is what we understand concerning the matter, tracing out the truth as far as we are able through conjectures and inferences. Neither does the word of God lie when it says that man was made in the image of God, nor is the pitiable suffering of man's nature like the blessedness of the impassible Life. For if one were to compare our nature with God, one of two things must necessarily be allowed in order that the definition of the likeness may be understood in both cases in the same terms—either that the Deity is passible, or that humanity is impassible. But if neither the Deity is passible nor our nature free from passion, what other explanation remains by which we may say that the word of God speaks truly when it says that man was made in the image of God?

4. How then is man, this mortal, passible, shortlived being, the image of that nature which is immortal, pure, and everlasting? The true answer to this question, indeed, perhaps only the very Truth knows: but this is what we, tracing out the truth so far as we are capable by conjectures and inferences, apprehend concerning the matter. Neither does the word of God lie when it says that man was made in the image of God, nor is the pitiable suffering of man's nature like to the blessedness of the impassible Life: for if any one were to compare our nature with God, one of two things must needs be allowed in order that the definition of the likeness may be apprehended in both cases in the same terms — either that the Deity is passible, or that humanity is impassible: but if neither the Deity is passible nor our nature free from passion, what other account remains whereby we may say that the word of God speaks truly, which says that man was made in the image of God?

We must, then, take up Holy Scripture itself again, to see if we can find some guidance on this question through what is written. After saying, "Let us make man in our image," and stating the purposes for which "Let us make him" was said, it adds this: "And God created man; in the image of God created He him; male and female created He them" (Genesis 1:27). We have already said earlier that this statement was made to destroy heretical impiety, so that when we are taught that the Only-begotten God made man in the image of God, we should in no way distinguish between the Godhead of the Father and the Son, since Holy Scripture gives the name of God equally to both—to Him Who made man, and to Him in Whose image he was made.

5. We must, then, take up once more the Holy Scripture itself, if we may perhaps find some guidance in the question by means of what is written. After saying, Let us make man in our image, and for what purposes it was said Let us make him, it adds this saying:– and God created man; in the image of God created He him; male and female created He them Genesis 1:27. We have already said in what precedes, that this saying was uttered for the destruction of heretical impiety, in order that being instructed that the Only-begotten God made man in the image of God, we should in no wise distinguish the Godhead of the Father and the Son, since Holy Scripture gives to each equally the name of God — to Him Who made man, and to Him in Whose image he was made.

However, let us set aside our argument on this point. Let us turn our inquiry to the question before us: how is it that while the Deity exists in bliss and humanity exists in misery, Scripture still calls the latter like the former?

6. However, let us pass by our argument upon this point: let us turn our inquiry to the question before us — how it is that while the Deity is in bliss, and humanity is in misery, the latter is yet in Scripture called like the former?

We must examine these words carefully. When we do, we find that what was made in the image is one thing, and what is now shown in wretchedness is another. Scripture says, "God created man; in the image of God created He him" (Genesis 1:27). This marks the end of the creation of what was made in the image. Then the account of creation resumes and says, "male and female created He them." I assume everyone knows that this is a departure from the Prototype, for in Christ Jesus, as the apostle says, there is neither male nor female. Yet the statement declares that man is divided in this way.

7. We must, then, examine the words carefully: for we find, if we do so, that that which was made in the image is one thing, and that which is now manifested in wretchedness is another. God created man, it says; in the image of God created He him Genesis 1:27. There is an end of the creation of that which was made in the image: then it makes a resumption of the account of creation, and says, male and female created He them. I presume that every one knows that this is a departure from the Prototype: for in Christ Jesus, as the apostle says, there is neither male nor female. Yet the phrase declares that man is thus divided.

The creation of our nature is, in a certain sense, twofold: one part made like God, and one part divided according to this distinction. The text conveys something like this obscurely through its arrangement, where it first says, "God created man, in the image of God created He him," and then adds to what has already been said, "male and female created He them"—something that is foreign to our understanding of God.

8. Thus the creation of our nature is in a sense twofold: one made like to God, one divided according to this distinction: for something like this the passage darkly conveys by its arrangement, where it first says, God created man, in the image of God created He him Genesis 1:27, and then, adding to what has been said, male and female created He them Genesis 1:27, — a thing which is alien from our conceptions of God.

I think that through these words Holy Scripture conveys to us a great and lofty doctrine, and the doctrine is this: While two natures—the Divine and incorporeal nature, and the irrational life of animals—are separated from each other as extremes, human nature stands as the middle point between them. In the composite nature of humanity we can observe a part of each of the natures I have mentioned: from the Divine nature comes the rational and intelligent element, which does not admit the distinction of male and female; from the irrational nature comes our bodily form and structure, divided into male and female. Each of these elements is certainly found in everyone who shares in human life. We learn that the intellectual element comes first, as though from someone giving an orderly account of the making of humanity, and we also learn that our connection and kinship with the irrational realm serves as a provision for reproduction. Scripture first says that God created man in the image of God, showing through these words (as the Apostle says) that in such a being there is no male or female. Then it adds the distinctive characteristics of human nature: male and female created He them.

9. I think that by these words Holy Scripture conveys to us a great and lofty doctrine; and the doctrine is this. While two natures — the Divine and incorporeal nature, and the irrational life of brutes — are separated from each other as extremes, human nature is the mean between them: for in the compound nature of man we may behold a part of each of the natures I have mentioned — of the Divine, the rational and intelligent element, which does not admit the distinction of male and female; of the irrational, our bodily form and structure, divided into male and female: for each of these elements is certainly to be found in all that partakes of human life. That the intellectual element, however, precedes the other, we learn as from one who gives in order an account of the making of man; and we learn also that his community and kindred with the irrational is for man a provision for reproduction. For he says first that God created man in the image of God (showing by these words, as the Apostle says, that in such a being there is no male or female): then he adds the peculiar attributes of human nature, male and female created He them Genesis 1:27.

What, then, do we learn from this? I ask that no one be offended if I bring an argument from a distant point to bear on the present subject. God is in His own nature all that our mind can conceive of as good—or rather, transcending all good that we can conceive or understand. He creates man for no other reason than that He is good. Being such, and having this as His reason for beginning the creation of our nature, He would not display the power of His goodness in an incomplete form, giving our nature some of the things at His disposal while withholding a share in another. Rather, the perfect form of goodness is seen here in His both bringing man into existence from nothing and fully providing him with all good gifts. But since the list of individual good gifts is long, it is impossible to grasp it by counting them. Therefore the language of Scripture expresses it concisely in a comprehensive phrase, saying that man was made in the image of God. For this is the same as saying that He made human nature a participant in all good. For if the Deity is the fullness of good, and this is His image, then the image finds its resemblance to the Archetype in being filled with all good.

10. What, then, do we learn from this? Let no one, I pray, be indignant if I bring from far an argument to bear upon the present subject. God is in His own nature all that which our mind can conceive of good — rather, transcending all good that we can conceive or comprehend. He creates man for no other reason than that He is good; and being such, and having this as His reason for entering upon the creation of our nature, He would not exhibit the power of His goodness in an imperfect form, giving our nature some one of the things at His disposal, and grudging it a share in another: but the perfect form of goodness is here to be seen by His both bringing man into being from nothing, and fully supplying him with all good gifts: but since the list of individual good gifts is a long one, it is out of the question to apprehend it numerically. The language of Scripture therefore expresses it concisely by a comprehensive phrase, in saying that man was made in the image of God: for this is the same as to say that He made human nature participant in all good; for if the Deity is the fullness of good, and this is His image, then the image finds its resemblance to the Archetype in being filled with all good.

Thus the principle of all excellence, all virtue and wisdom, and every higher thing we can imagine exists within us. But most important of all is the fact that we are free from necessity and not enslaved to any natural power, but have the power to make our own decisions as we choose. For virtue is voluntary and subject to no external control—whatever results from compulsion and force cannot be virtue.

11. Thus there is in us the principle of all excellence, all virtue and wisdom, and every higher thing that we conceive: but pre-eminent among all is the fact that we are free from necessity, and not in bondage to any natural power, but have decision in our own power as we please; for virtue is a voluntary thing, subject to no dominion: that which is the result of compulsion and force cannot be virtue.

Since the image reflects the archetypal excellence in every way, if it had no difference in some respect—being absolutely without divergence—it would no longer be a likeness but would clearly be absolutely identical with the prototype itself. What difference, then, do we see between the Divine and that which has been made like the Divine? We find it in the fact that the former is uncreated, while the latter has its being from creation. This distinction in nature brings with it a series of other characteristics, for it is certainly recognized that the uncreated nature is also unchangeable and always remains the same, while the created nature cannot exist without change. Even its very passage from nonexistence to existence is a kind of motion and change—the non-existent being transformed by the Divine purpose into being.

12. Now as the image bears in all points the semblance of the archetypal excellence, if it had not a difference in some respect, being absolutely without divergence it would no longer be a likeness, but will in that case manifestly be absolutely identical with the Prototype. What difference then do we discern between the Divine and that which has been made like to the Divine? We find it in the fact that the former is uncreate, while the latter has its being from creation: and this distinction of property brings with it a train of other properties; for it is very certainly acknowledged that the uncreated nature is also immutable, and always remains the same, while the created nature cannot exist without change; for its very passage from nonexistence to existence is a certain motion and change of the non-existent transmuted by the Divine purpose into being.

As the Gospel calls the stamp on the coin the image of Caesar (Matthew 22:20-21), by which we learn that what was fashioned to resemble Caesar showed resemblance in outward appearance but difference in material, so also in the present statement, when we consider the attributes that are observed in both the Divine and human nature—in which the likeness consists—to be in the place of the features, we find in what underlies them the difference that we observe between the uncreated and the created nature.

13. As the Gospel calls the stamp upon the coin the image of Cæsar Matthew 22:20-21, whereby we learn that in that which was fashioned to resemble Cæsar there was resemblance as to outward look, but difference as to material, so also in the present saying, when we consider the attributes contemplated both in the Divine and human nature, in which the likeness consists, to be in the place of the features, we find in what underlies them the difference which we behold in the uncreated and in the created nature.

Now since the Divine always remains the same, while what came into being through creation had the beginning of its existence from change and has a close connection with similar change, for this reason He Who, as the prophetical writing says, knows all things before they exist, following out—or rather foreseeing by His power of foreknowledge—what the tendency of man's will would be in a state of independence and freedom, since He saw what would happen, He devised for His image the distinction of male and female, which has no reference to the Divine Archetype but, as we have said, is an approximation to the less rational nature.

14. Now as the former always remains the same, while that which came into being by creation had the beginning of its existence from change, and has a kindred connection with the like mutation, for this reason He Who, as the prophetical writing says, knows all things before they be, following out, or rather perceiving beforehand by His power of foreknowledge what, in a state of independence and freedom, is the tendency of the motion of man's will, — as He saw, I say, what would be, He devised for His image the distinction of male and female, which has no reference to the Divine Archetype, but, as we have said, is an approximation to the less rational nature.

The true cause of this arrangement can only be known by those who were eyewitnesses of the truth and ministers of the Word. However, we who attempt to grasp the truth as far as we can through conjectures and comparisons do not present what comes to our mind as authoritative teaching, but will offer it as theoretical speculation to our friendly listeners.

15. The cause, indeed, of this device, only those can know who were eye-witnesses of the truth and ministers of the Word; but we, imagining the truth, as far as we can, by means of conjectures and similitudes, do not set forth that which occurs to our mind authoritatively, but will place it in the form of a theoretical speculation before our kindly hearers.

What then do we understand about these matters? When the text says that God created man, it indicates all of humanity by using an indefinite term. After all, Adam was not named here along with the creation, as the narrative tells us later. Yet the name given to the created man is not specific but general. Therefore, the use of the general name for our nature leads us to a view something like this: in the Divine foreknowledge and power, all humanity is included in the first creation. For it is fitting for God not to regard any of the things He has made as indeterminate, but rather that each existing thing should have some limit and measure prescribed by the wisdom of its Maker.

16. What is it then which we understand concerning these matters? In saying that God created man the text indicates, by the indefinite character of the term, all mankind; for was not Adam here named together with the creation, as the history tells us in what follows? Yet the name given to the man created is not the particular, but the general name: thus we are led by the employment of the general name of our nature to some such view as this — that in the Divine foreknowledge and power all humanity is included in the first creation; for it is fitting for God not to regard any of the things made by Him as indeterminate, but that each existing thing should have some limit and measure prescribed by the wisdom of its Maker.

Just as any individual person is defined by bodily dimensions, and the particular size connected with the surface of his body measures his separate existence, so I think that the entire fullness of humanity was encompassed by the God of all, through His power of foreknowledge, as if in one body, and this is what the text teaches us when it says, God created man, in the image of God created He him. For the image is not in part of our nature, nor is the grace in any one of the things found in that nature, but this power extends equally to all the race. A sign of this is that mind is implanted alike in all: for all have the power of understanding and deliberating, and everything else by which the Divine nature finds its image in that which was made according to it. The man who was manifested at the first creation of the world and he who shall be after the consummation of all are alike: they equally bear in themselves the Divine image.

17. Now just as any particular man is limited by his bodily dimensions, and the peculiar size which is conjoined with the superficies of his body is the measure of his separate existence, so I think that the entire plenitude of humanity was included by the God of all, by His power of foreknowledge, as it were in one body, and that this is what the text teaches us which says, God created man, in the image of God created He him. For the image is not in part of our nature, nor is the grace in any one of the things found in that nature, but this power extends equally to all the race: and a sign of this is that mind is implanted alike in all: for all have the power of understanding and deliberating, and of all else whereby the Divine nature finds its image in that which was made according to it: the man that was manifested at the first creation of the world, and he that shall be after the consummation of all, are alike: they equally bear in themselves the Divine image.

For this reason the entire human race was spoken of as one man, namely because to God's power nothing is either past or future, but even what we expect is comprehended, equally with what exists at present, by the all-sustaining energy. Our whole nature, then, extending from the first to the last, is, so to speak, one image of Him Who Is; but the distinction of kind in male and female was added to His work last, as I suppose, for the reason which follows.

18. For this reason the whole race was spoken of as one man, namely, that to God's power nothing is either past or future, but even that which we expect is comprehended, equally with what is at present existing, by the all-sustaining energy. Our whole nature, then, extending from the first to the last, is, so to say, one image of Him Who is; but the distinction of kind in male and female was added to His work last, as I suppose, for the reason which follows.

It might be better for us, however, to first examine the solution to the objection our opponents raise before we investigate this matter further. For they say that before the sin there is no mention of birth, or of labor, or of the desire that leads to procreation, but when they were expelled from Paradise after their sin, and the woman was condemned to the sentence of labor, Adam then entered into marital relations with his wife, and at that point procreation began. If, then, marriage did not exist in Paradise, nor labor, nor birth, they say it necessarily follows that human souls would not have existed in large numbers had the grace of immortality not fallen away to mortality, and had marriage not preserved our race through descendants, bringing in the children of those who were departing to replace them, so that in a certain way the sin that entered the world was beneficial for human life—for the human race would have remained limited to the original pair had not the fear of death driven their physis to provide for succession.

1. It is better for us however, perhaps, rather to inquire, before investigating this point, the solution of the question put forward by our adversaries; for they say that before the sin there is no account of birth, or of travail, or of the desire that tends to procreation, but when they were banished from Paradise after their sin, and the woman was condemned by the sentence of travail, Adam thus entered with his consort upon the intercourse of married life, and then took place the beginning of procreation. If, then, marriage did not exist in Paradise, nor travail, nor birth, they say that it follows as a necessary conclusion that human souls would not have existed in plurality had not the grace of immortality fallen away to mortality, and marriage preserved our race by means of descendants, introducing the offspring of the departing to take their place, so that in a certain way the sin that entered into the world was profitable for the life of man: for the human race would have remained in the pair of the first-formed, had not the fear of death impelled their nature to provide succession.

When the Sadducees once argued against the doctrine of the resurrection and brought forward, to support their own position, that woman with many marriages who had been wife to seven brothers, and then asked whose wife she would be after the resurrection, our Lord answered their argument in such a way as not only to teach the Sadducees but also to reveal to all who came after them the mystery of the resurrection life. For in the resurrection, He says, they neither marry nor are given in marriage; neither can they die anymore, for they are equal to the angels and are the children of God, being the children of the resurrection (Luke 20:35-36). Now the resurrection promises us nothing other than the restoration of the fallen to their original state; for the grace we look forward to is a kind of return to the first life, bringing back to Paradise the one who was cast out from it. If then the life of those restored is closely related to that of the angels, it is clear that the life before the transgression was a kind of angelic life, and therefore our return to the original condition of our life is also compared to the angels. Yet while, as has been said, there is no marriage among them, the armies of the angels number in countless myriads; for Daniel declared this in his visions. In the same way, if there had not come upon us as the result of sin a change for the worse and removal from equality with the angels, we would not have needed marriage in order to multiply. But whatever the mode of increase in the angelic physis is—unspeakable and inconceivable by human guesses, except that it definitely exists—it would have operated also in the case of human beings, who were made a little lower than the angels, to increase humanity to the measure determined by its Maker.

2. Now here again the true answer, whatever it may be, can be clear to those only who, like Paul, have been instructed in the mysteries of Paradise; but our answer is as follows. When the Sadducees once argued against the doctrine of the resurrection, and brought forward, to establish their own opinion, that woman of many marriages, who had been wife to seven brethren, and thereupon inquired whose wife she will be after the resurrection, our Lord answered their argument so as not only to instruct the Sadducees, but also to reveal to all that come after them the mystery of the resurrection-life: for in the resurrection, He says, they neither marry, nor are given in marriage; neither can they die any more, for they are equal to the angels, and are the children of God, being the children of the resurrection Luke 20:35-36. Now the resurrection promises us nothing else than the restoration of the fallen to their ancient state; for the grace we look for is a certain return to the first life, bringing back again to Paradise him who was cast out from it. If then the life of those restored is closely related to that of the angels, it is clear that the life before the transgression was a kind of angelic life, and hence also our return to the ancient condition of our life is compared to the angels. Yet while, as has been said, there is no marriage among them, the armies of the angels are in countless myriads; for so Daniel declared in his visions: so, in the same way, if there had not come upon us as the result of sin a change for the worse, and removal from equality with the angels, neither should we have needed marriage that we might multiply; but whatever the mode of increase in the angelic nature is (unspeakable and inconceivable by human conjectures, except that it assuredly exists), it would have operated also in the case of men, who were made a little lower than the angels, to increase mankind to the measure determined by its Maker.

But if anyone finds it difficult to understand how souls would have been generated if man had not needed the help of marriage, we will ask him in return: what is the mode of angelic existence? How do angels exist in countless multitudes, being one ousia yet numerically many? For we will be giving a fitting answer to someone who asks how man would have existed without marriage if we say: as the angels are without marriage. The fact that man was in the same condition as the angels before the transgression is demonstrated by the restoration to that state.

3. But if any one finds a difficulty in an inquiry as to the manner of the generation of souls, had man not needed the assistance of marriage, we shall ask him in turn, what is the mode of the angelic existence, how they exist in countless myriads, being one essence, and at the same time numerically many; for we shall be giving a fit answer to one who raises the question how man would have been without marriage, if we say, as the angels are without marriage; for the fact that man was in a like condition with them before the transgression is shown by the restoration to that state.

Now that we have cleared up these matters, let us return to our earlier point: how was it that after making His image, God arranged for His work the distinction of male and female? I say that the preliminary investigation we have completed helps us determine this question. For He Who brought all things into being and fashioned humanity as a whole by His own will according to the Divine image did not wait to see the number of souls completed to its proper fullness through the gradual additions of those coming later. Rather, while looking upon the physis of humanity in its entirety and fullness through the exercise of His foreknowledge, and granting it a destiny exalted and equal to the angels, He foresaw by His all-seeing power the failure of their will to keep a straight course toward what is good, and its resulting decline from the angelic life. Therefore, so that the multitude of human souls might not be reduced by its fall from that mode by which the angels were increased and multiplied, He formed for our physis that mechanism for increase which suits those who had fallen into sin, implanting in humankind, instead of the angelic majesty of physis, that animal and irrational mode by which they now succeed one another.

4. Now that we have thus cleared up these matters, let us return to our former point — how it was that after the making of His image God contrived for His work the distinction of male and female. I say that the preliminary speculation we have completed is of service for determining this question; for He Who brought all things into being and fashioned Man as a whole by His own will to the Divine image, did not wait to see the number of souls made up to its proper fullness by the gradual additions of those coming after; but while looking upon the nature of man in its entirety and fullness by the exercise of His foreknowledge, and bestowing upon it a lot exalted and equal to the angels, since He saw beforehand by His all-seeing power the failure of their will to keep a direct course to what is good, and its consequent declension from the angelic life, in order that the multitude of human souls might not be cut short by its fall from that mode by which the angels were increased and multiplied — for this reason, I say, He formed for our nature that contrivance for increase which befits those who had fallen into sin, implanting in mankind, instead of the angelic majesty of nature, that animal and irrational mode by which they now succeed one another.

Hence also, it seems to me, the great David, pitying the misery of humanity, mourns over human nature with such words as these: that man, being in honor, did not know it (meaning by honor the equality with the angels), and therefore, he says, he is compared to the beasts that have no understanding and made like them. For he truly was made like the beasts, who received in his nature the present mode of transient generation on account of his inclination to material things.

5. Hence also, it seems to me, the great David pitying the misery of man mourns over his nature with such words as these, that, man being in honour knew it not (meaning by honour the equality with the angels), therefore, he says, he is compared to the beasts that have no understanding, and made like them. For he truly was made like the beasts, who received in his nature the present mode of transient generation, on account of his inclination to material things.

For I think that all our passions flow from this beginning as from a spring, and flood over human life. Evidence for my words is the kinship of passions that appears alike in ourselves and in the brutes. It is not right to trace the first origins of our constitutional tendency toward passion to that human nature which was fashioned in the Divine likeness. Rather, since brute life first entered the world, and man—for the reason already mentioned—took something from their nature (I mean the mode of generation), he accordingly took at the same time a share of the other qualities observed in that nature. The likeness of man to God is not found in anger, nor is pleasure a mark of the superior nature. Cowardice, boldness, the desire for gain, the dislike of loss, and all such things are far removed from that stamp which indicates Divinity.

1. For I think that from this beginning all our passions issue as from a spring, and pour their flood over man's life; and an evidence of my words is the kinship of passions which appears alike in ourselves and in the brutes; for it is not allowable to ascribe the first beginnings of our constitutional liability to passion to that human nature which was fashioned in the Divine likeness; but as brute life first entered into the world, and man, for the reason already mentioned, took something of their nature (I mean the mode of generation), he accordingly took at the same time a share of the other attributes contemplated in that nature; for the likeness of man to God is not found in anger, nor is pleasure a mark of the superior nature; cowardice also, and boldness, and the desire of gain, and the dislike of loss, and all the like, are far removed from that stamp which indicates Divinity.

Human nature took on these characteristics from the animal side, because the qualities that equip animals for survival became passions when they were transferred to human life. Carnivorous animals are preserved by their anger, and animals that reproduce in large numbers are preserved by their love of pleasure. Cowardice preserves the weak, fear preserves those easily caught by more powerful animals, and greediness preserves those of great size. For animals, missing anything that brings pleasure is a source of pain. All these and similar affections entered into human composition because of the animal mode of generation.

2. These attributes, then, human nature took to itself from the side of the brutes; for those qualities with which brute life was armed for self-preservation, when transferred to human life, became passions; for the carnivorous animals are preserved by their anger, and those which breed largely by their love of pleasure; cowardice preserves the weak, fear that which is easily taken by more powerful animals, and greediness those of great bulk; and to miss anything that tends to pleasure is for the brutes a matter of pain. All these and the like affections entered man's composition by reason of the animal mode of generation.

I can describe the human image by comparing it to an amazing piece of sculpture. Just as we can see in sculpted models those carved shapes that makers create to amaze viewers, tracing two different faces on a single head, in the same way man seems to me to have a double likeness to opposite things. In the divine element of his mind, he is shaped to reflect divine beauty, but in the passionate impulses that arise in him, he bears a likeness to brute nature. Often even his reason becomes brutish and obscures the better element with the worse through its tendency and disposition toward what is irrational. Whenever a man drags down his mental energy to these emotions and forces his reason to serve his passions, a kind of conversion happens in which the good stamp in him changes into the irrational image. His whole nature is reshaped according to that pattern, as his reason, so to speak, cultivates the beginnings of his passions and gradually multiplies them. Once reason lends its cooperation to passion, it produces a plentiful and abundant crop of evils.

3. I may be allowed to describe the human image by comparison with some wonderful piece of modelling. For, as one may see in models those carved shapes which the artificers of such things contrive for the wonder of beholders, tracing out upon a single head two forms of faces; so man seems to me to bear a double likeness to opposite things — being moulded in the Divine element of his mind to the Divine beauty, but bearing, in the passionate impulses that arise in him, a likeness to the brute nature; while often even his reason is rendered brutish, and obscures the better element by the worse through its inclination and disposition towards what is irrational; for whenever a man drags down his mental energy to these affections, and forces his reason to become the servant of his passions, there takes place a sort of conversion of the good stamp in him into the irrational image, his whole nature being traced anew after that design, as his reason, so to say, cultivates the beginnings of his passions, and gradually multiplies them; for once it lends its co-operation to passion, it produces a plenteous and abundant crop of evils.

Our love of pleasure began when we were made similar to irrational creatures, and it grew through human transgressions, becoming the source of so many different kinds of sins arising from pleasure that we cannot find them among irrational animals. In the same way, the rise of anger in us is related to the impulses of brute animals, but it grows through the partnership of thought. From this come malice, envy, deceit, conspiracy, and hypocrisy—all of these result from the mind's evil cultivation. If the passion were stripped of the help it receives from thought, the anger that remains would be short-lived and unsustained, like a bubble that perishes immediately after it comes into existence. In this way, the greediness of pigs introduces covetousness, and the spiritedness of the horse becomes the origin of pride. All the specific forms that come from the lack of reason in brute nature become vice through the mind's evil use.

4. Thus our love of pleasure took its beginning from our being made like to the irrational creation, and was increased by the transgressions of men, becoming the parent of so many varieties of sins arising from pleasure as we cannot find among the irrational animals. Thus the rising of anger in us is indeed akin to the impulse of the brutes; but it grows by the alliance of thought: for thence come malignity, envy, deceit, conspiracy, hypocrisy; all these are the result of the evil husbandry of the mind; for if the passion were divested of the aid it receives from thought, the anger that is left behind is short-lived and not sustained, like a bubble, perishing straightway as soon as it comes into being. Thus the greediness of swine introduces covetousness, and the high spirit of the horse becomes the origin of pride; and all the particular forms that proceed from the want of reason in brute nature become vice by the evil use of the mind.

In the same way, when reason takes control of these emotions instead, each one is transformed into a kind of virtue. Anger produces courage, terror produces caution, fear produces obedience, hatred produces aversion from vice, the power of love produces the desire for what is truly beautiful. High-spiritedness in our character lifts our thinking above the passions and keeps it from being enslaved to what is base. Indeed, even the great Apostle praises this kind of mental elevation when he commands us to constantly think about the things that are above. And so we find that every such impulse, when lifted up by nobility of mind, is conformed to the beauty of the divine image.

5. So, likewise, on the contrary, if reason instead assumes sway over such emotions, each of them is transmuted to a form of virtue; for anger produces courage, terror caution, fear obedience, hatred aversion from vice, the power of love the desire for what is truly beautiful; high spirit in our character raises our thought above the passions, and keeps it from bondage to what is base; yea, the great Apostle, even, praises such a form of mental elevation when he bids us constantly to think those things that are above Colossians 3:2; and so we find that every such motion, when elevated by loftiness of mind, is conformed to the beauty of the Divine image.

But the other impulse is greater, since the tendency of sin is heavy and downward. The ruling element of our soul is more inclined to be dragged downward by the weight of the irrational nature than the heavy and earthy element is to be lifted up by the loftiness of the intellect. Therefore, the misery that surrounds us often causes the Divine gift to be forgotten, and it spreads the passions of the flesh, like some ugly mask, over the beauty of the image.

6. But the other impulse is greater, as the tendency of sin is heavy and downward; for the ruling element of our soul is more inclined to be dragged downwards by the weight of the irrational nature than is the heavy and earthy element to be exalted by the loftiness of the intellect; hence the misery that encompasses us often causes the Divine gift to be forgotten, and spreads the passions of the flesh, like some ugly mask, over the beauty of the image.

Those who, when they observe such cases, do not recognize the Divine form present there are in some sense excusable. Yet we can behold the Divine image in human beings through those who have ordered their lives rightly. For if the person who is ruled by passion and is carnal makes it hard to believe that humanity was adorned with Divine beauty, certainly the person of lofty virtue who is pure from pollution will confirm for you the better understanding of human nature.

7. Those, therefore, are in some sense excusable, who do not admit, when they look upon such cases, that the Divine form is there; yet we may behold the Divine image in men by the medium of those who have ordered their lives aright. For if the man who is subject to passion, and carnal, makes it incredible that man was adorned, as it were, with Divine beauty, surely the man of lofty virtue and pure from pollution will confirm you in the better conception of human nature.

For example (it is better to clarify our argument with an illustration), one of those known for wickedness—say, some Jechoniah, or someone else of evil memory—has destroyed the beauty of his nature through the corruption of wickedness; yet in Moses and in people like him the form of the image was kept pure. Now where the beauty of the form has not been obscured, the truthfulness of the statement that man is an image of God is made clear.

8. For instance (for it is better to make our argument clear by an illustration), one of those noted for wickedness — some Jechoniah, say, or some other of evil memory — has obliterated the beauty of his nature by the pollution of wickedness; yet in Moses and in men like him the form of the image was kept pure. Now where the beauty of the form has not been obscured, there is made plain the faithfulness of the saying that man is an image of God.

Some people may feel ashamed that our life, like that of animals, is sustained by food, and for this reason consider humanity unworthy of being made in the image of God. But they may expect that freedom from this function will one day be given to our nature in the life we look forward to. For, as the Apostle says, the Kingdom of God is not meat and drink (Romans 14:17), and the Lord declared that man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God. Furthermore, since the resurrection promises us a life equal with the angels, and angels have no need of food, there is sufficient reason to believe that humanity, who will live in the same way as the angels, will be freed from this function.

9. It may be, however, that some one feels shame at the fact that our life, like that of the brutes, is sustained by food, and for this reason deems man unworthy of being supposed to have been framed in the image of God; but he may expect that freedom from this function will one day be bestowed upon our nature in the life we look for; for, as the Apostle says, the Kingdom of God is not meat and drink Romans 14:17; and the Lord declared that man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God. Further, as the resurrection holds forth to us a life equal with the angels, and with the angels there is no food, there is sufficient ground for believing that man, who will live in like fashion with the angels, will be released from such a function.

But someone might object that man will not be returning to the same form of life if, as it appears, we formerly sustained ourselves by eating but will hereafter be free from that function. However, when I hear the Holy Scripture, I do not understand it to mean only bodily food or the pleasure of the flesh. Rather, I recognize another kind of food that has a certain analogy to that of the body, the enjoyment of which extends to the soul alone. "Eat of my bread" is Wisdom's command to the hungry, and the Lord declares blessed those who hunger for such food as this, saying "If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and drink." And the great Isaiah charges those who are able to hear his sublimity to "drink ye joy." There is also a prophetic threat against those worthy of vengeance, that they shall be punished with famine—but the famine is not a lack of bread and water, but a failure of the word: "not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but a famine of hearing the word of the Lord."

1. But some one perhaps will say that man will not be returning to the same form of life, if as it seems, we formerly existed by eating, and shall hereafter be free from that function. I, however, when I hear the Holy Scripture, do not understand only bodily meat, or the pleasure of the flesh; but I recognize another kind of food also, having a certain analogy to that of the body, the enjoyment of which extends to the soul alone: Eat of my bread Proverbs 9:5, is the bidding of Wisdom to the hungry; and the Lord declares those blessed who hunger for such food as this, and says, If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and drink: and drink ye joy, is the great Isaiah's charge to those who are able to hear his sublimity. There is a prophetic threatening also against those worthy of vengeance, that they shall be punished with famine; but the famine is not a lack of bread and water, but a failure of the word:– not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but a famine of hearing the word of the Lord Amos 8:11.

We ought, then, to understand that the fruit in Eden was something worthy of God's planting (and Eden is interpreted to mean "delight"), and not to doubt that humanity was nourished by it. Nor should we in any way think, concerning the way of life in Paradise, that it involved this temporary and perishable kind of nourishment. He says, "Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat" (Genesis 2:16).

2. We ought, then, to conceive that the fruit in Eden was something worthy of God's planting (and Eden is interpreted to mean delight), and not to doubt that man was hereby nourished: nor should we at all conceive, concerning the mode of life in Paradise, this transitory and perishable nutriment: of every tree of the garden, He says, you may freely eat Genesis 2:16.

Who will give to someone with a healthy hunger that tree which is in Paradise, which contains all good, which is called every tree, and in which this passage grants man the right to participate? For in the universal and all-encompassing phrase, every form of good is in harmony with itself, and the whole is one. And who will keep me away from tasting that tree which is of mixed and uncertain nature? For surely it is clear to everyone who has any insight at all what that every tree is whose fruit is life, and what again that mixed tree is whose end is death: for He who freely offers the enjoyment of every tree surely by some reasoning and foresight keeps man from participating in those which are of uncertain nature.

3. Who will give to him that has a healthful hunger that tree that is in Paradise, which includes all good, which is named every tree, in which this passage bestows on man the right to share? For in the universal and transcendent saying every form of good is in harmony with itself, and the whole is one. And who will keep me back from that tasting of the tree which is of mixed and doubtful kind? For surely it is clear to all who are at all keen-sighted what that every tree is whose fruit is life, and what again that mixed tree is whose end is death: for He Who presents ungrudgingly the enjoyment of every tree, surely by some reason and forethought keeps man from participation in those which are of doubtful kind.

I think I can rely on the great David and the wise Solomon to guide me in interpreting this passage, since both of them understand the grace of the permitted delight to be one and the same thing—that actual Good which is truly every good. David shows this when he says, "Delight yourself in the Lord," and Solomon when he calls Wisdom herself (which is the Lord) a tree of life in Proverbs 3:18.

4. It seems to me that I may take the great David and the wise Solomon as my instructors in the interpretation of this text: for both understand the grace of the permitted delight to be one — that very actual Good, which in truth is every good — David, when he says, Delight thou in the Lord, and Solomon, when he names Wisdom herself (which is the Lord) a tree of life Proverbs 3:18.

Thus every tree that the passage says gives food to the one who was made in the likeness of God is the same as the tree of life. Opposed to this tree is another tree, whose food is the knowledge of good and evil—not that it bears each of these opposite things as fruit in turn, but that it produces a fruit blended and mixed with opposite qualities. The Prince of Life forbids eating this fruit, while the serpent advises it in order to prepare an entrance for death. The serpent gained credibility for his advice by covering the fruit with a beautiful appearance and the show of pleasure, so that it would be pleasant to the eyes and stimulate the desire to taste.

5. Thus the every tree of which the passage gives food to him who was made in the likeness of God, is the same with the tree of life; and there is opposed to this tree another tree, the food given by which is the knowledge of good and evil:– not that it bears in turn as fruit each of these things of opposite significance, but that it produces a fruit blended and mixed with opposite qualities, the eating of which the Prince of Life forbids, and the serpent counsels, that he may prepare an entrance for death: and he obtained credence for his counsel, covering over the fruit with a fair appearance and the show of pleasure, that it might be pleasant to the eyes and stimulate the desire to taste.

What then is that which includes the knowledge of good and evil blended together, and is adorned with the pleasures of the senses? I think I am not missing the mark when I use, as a starting point for my reflection, the idea of what can be known. I do not think Scripture here means science by "knowledge." Rather, I find a certain distinction, according to how Scripture uses these words, between knowledge and discernment: for to discern skillfully between good and evil, the Apostle says, is a mark of a more mature condition and of trained senses, which is why he also commands us to test all things, and says that discernment belongs to the spiritual person. But knowledge is not always to be understood as skill and familiarity with something; rather, it refers to one's disposition toward what is pleasing—as when the Lord knows those who are His, and He says to Moses, I knew you above all, while concerning those condemned in their wickedness, He Who knows all things says, I never knew you.

1. What then is that which includes the knowledge of good and evil blended together, and is decked with the pleasures of sense? I think I am not aiming wide of the mark in employing, as a starting-point for my speculation, the sense of knowable. It is not, I think, science which the Scripture here means by knowledge; but I find a certain distinction, according to Scriptural use, between knowledge and discernment: for to discern skilfully the good from the evil, the Apostle says is a mark of a more perfect condition and of exercised senses, for which reason also he bids us prove all things 1 Thessalonians 5:21, and says that discernment belongs to the spiritual man 1 Corinthians 2:15: but knowledge is not always to be understood of skill and acquaintance with anything, but of the disposition towards what is agreeable — as the Lord knows them that are His 2 Timothy 2:19; and He says to Moses, I knew you above all; while of those condemned in their wickedness He Who knows all things says, I never knew you Matthew 7:23.

The tree from which this fruit of mixed knowledge comes is among the things that are forbidden. This fruit is made up of opposite qualities and has the serpent to recommend it, perhaps for this reason: evil does not show itself openly, appearing in its own true nature—for wickedness would surely fail to work if it did not dress itself up in some attractive appearance to lure into desiring it the person it deceives. Instead, the nature of evil is somehow mixed, keeping destruction hidden within itself like a trap, while displaying some illusion of good in its deceptive outward form. The beauty of material wealth seems good to those who love money, yet the love of money is a root of all evil. And who would plunge into the foul mud of sexual indulgence if the person whom this bait drives into passion did not think pleasure was something beautiful and desirable? In the same way, other sins keep their destruction hidden and seem acceptable at first glance, and some deception makes unwary people eagerly pursue them instead of what is truly good.

2. The tree, then, from which comes this fruit of mixed knowledge, is among those things which are forbidden; and that fruit is combined of opposite qualities, which has the serpent to commend it, it may be for this reason, that the evil is not exposed in its nakedness, itself appearing in its own proper nature — for wickedness would surely fail of its effect were it not decked with some fair color to entice to the desire of it him whom it deceives — but now the nature of evil is in a manner mixed, keeping destruction like some snare concealed in its depths, and displaying some phantom of good in the deceitfulness of its exterior. The beauty of the substance seems good to those who love money: yet the love of money is a root of all evil 1 Timothy 6:10: and who would plunge into the unsavoury mud of wantonness, were it not that he whom this bait hurries into passion thinks pleasure a thing fair and acceptable? So, too, the other sins keep their destruction hidden, and seem at first sight acceptable, and some deceit makes them earnestly sought after by unwary men instead of what is good.

Since most people think the good lies in what pleases the senses, and there is a certain similarity in name between what truly is good and what only appears to be good, Scripture calls the desire that arises toward what is evil, as if it were good, the knowledge of good and evil. As we have said, knowledge here expresses a certain mixed condition. Scripture speaks of the fruit of the forbidden tree not as something completely evil (because it is decorated with good), nor as something purely good (because evil is hidden in it), but as a combination of both. It declares that tasting it brings death to those who touch it, clearly proclaiming the teaching that the truly actual good is by nature simple and uniform, foreign to all duplicity or union with its opposite, while evil is many-colored and attractively adorned, being thought to be one thing but revealed by experience as another. The knowledge of it (that is, receiving it through experience) is the beginning and predecessor of death and destruction.

3. Now since the majority of men judge the good to lie in that which gratifies the senses, and there is a certain identity of name between that which is, and that which appears to be good, — for this reason that desire which arises towards what is evil, as though towards good, is called by Scripture the knowledge of good and evil; knowledge, as we have said, expressing a certain mixed disposition. It speaks of the fruit of the forbidden tree not as a thing absolutely evil (because it is decked with good), nor as a thing purely good (because evil is latent in it), but as compounded of both, and declares that the tasting of it brings to death those who touch it; almost proclaiming aloud the doctrine that the very actual good is in its nature simple and uniform, alien from all duplicity or conjunction with its opposite, while evil is many-colored and fairly adorned, being esteemed to be one thing and revealed by experience as another, the knowledge of which (that is, its reception by experience) is the beginning and antecedent of death and destruction.

Because he saw this, the serpent points out the evil fruit of sin, not showing the evil openly in its own nature (since man would not have been deceived by obvious evil), but giving what the woman looked at the appearance of a certain beauty, and casting over its taste the spell of sensual pleasure. He appeared to her to speak convincingly, and the woman saw, it says, that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes to look at, and fair to see. She took some of its fruit and ate it, and that eating became the mother of death to humanity. This, then, is that fruit-bearing of mixed character, where the passage clearly shows the sense in which the tree was called capable of the knowledge of good and evil—because, like the evil nature of poisons that are prepared with honey, it appears to be good insofar as it affects the senses with sweetness, but insofar as it destroys the one who touches it, it is the worst of all evil. So when the evil poison worked its effect against human life, then man, that noble thing and name, the image of God's nature, was made, as the prophet says, like vanity.

4. It was because he saw this that the serpent points out the evil fruit of sin, not showing the evil manifestly in its own nature (for man would not have been deceived by manifest evil), but giving to what the woman beheld the glamour of a certain beauty, and conjuring into its taste the spell of a sensual pleasure, he appeared to her to speak convincingly: and the woman saw, it says, that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes to behold, and fair to see; and she took of the fruit thereof and did eat, and that eating became the mother of death to men. This, then, is that fruit-bearing of mixed character, where the passage clearly expresses the sense in which the tree was called capable of the knowledge of good and evil, because, like the evil nature of poisons that are prepared with honey, it appears to be good in so far as it affects the senses with sweetness: but in so far as it destroys him who touches it, it is the worst of all evil. Thus when the evil poison worked its effect against man's life, then man, that noble thing and name, the image of God's nature, was made, as the prophet says, like vanity.

The image, therefore, properly belongs to the better part of our attributes; but everything in our life that is painful and miserable is far removed from likeness to the Divine.

5. The image, therefore, properly belongs to the better part of our attributes; but all in our life that is painful and miserable is far removed from the likeness to the Divine.

Wickedness, however, is not strong enough to overcome the power of good, nor is the foolishness of our nature more powerful and lasting than the wisdom of God. It is impossible for what is constantly changeable and unstable to be more solid and enduring than what always stays the same and is firmly established in goodness. It is absolutely certain that God's purpose possesses unchangeability, while the changeability of our nature does not remain fixed even in evil.

1. Wickedness, however, is not so strong as to prevail over the power of good; nor is the folly of our nature more powerful and more abiding than the wisdom of God: for it is impossible that that which is always mutable and variable should be more firm and more abiding than that which always remains the same and is firmly fixed in goodness: but it is absolutely certain that the Divine counsel possesses immutability, while the changeableness of our nature does not remain settled even in evil.

What is always in motion, if its progress is toward good, will never stop moving forward to what lies ahead, because the course to be traveled is infinite. It will not find any limit to its goal such that, once it has reached it, it will finally stop moving. But if its tendency is in the opposite direction, when it has finished the course of wickedness and reached the extreme limit of evil, then that which is constantly moving, finding no stopping point for its natural impulse when it has run through all the lengths that can be run in wickedness, necessarily turns its motion toward good. Since evil does not extend to infinity but is contained by necessary limits, it appears that good once more follows in succession upon the limit of evil. Thus, as we have said, the ever-moving character of our nature comes to run its course at last back toward good again, being taught the lesson of prudence by the memory of its former misfortunes, so that it may never again be in the same situation.

2. Now that which is always in motion, if its progress be to good, will never cease moving onwards to what lies before it, by reason of the infinity of the course to be traversed:– for it will not find any limit of its object such that when it has apprehended it, it will at last cease its motion: but if its bias be in the opposite direction, when it has finished the course of wickedness and reached the extreme limit of evil, then that which is ever moving, finding no halting point for its impulse natural to itself when it has run through the lengths that can be run in wickedness, of necessity turns its motion towards good: for as evil does not extend to infinity, but is comprehended by necessary limits, it would appear that good once more follows in succession upon the limit of evil; and thus, as we have said, the ever-moving character of our nature comes to run its course at the last once more back towards good, being taught the lesson of prudence by the memory of its former misfortunes, to the end that it may never again be in like case.

Our course will once again lie in what is good, because the nature of evil has necessary limits. Those skilled in astronomy tell us that the whole universe is full of light, and that darkness is cast as a shadow by the interposition of the earth's body. This darkness is cut off from the sun's rays in the shape of a cone, following the form of the sphere-shaped body, and lies behind it. The sun, being many times larger than the earth, surrounds it on all sides with its rays and unites the converging streams of light at the cone's limit. So if someone had the ability to pass beyond the extent to which the shadow reaches, he would certainly find himself in unbroken light. In the same way, I think we ought to understand about ourselves that once we pass beyond the limit of wickedness, we shall again live in light, since the nature of good, when compared with the measure of wickedness, is incalculably superabundant.

3. Our course, then, will once more lie in what is good, by reason of the fact that the nature of evil is bounded by necessary limits. For just as those skilled in astronomy tell us that the whole universe is full of light, and that darkness is made to cast its shadow by the interposition of the body formed by the earth; and that this darkness is shut off from the rays of the sun, in the shape of a cone, according to the figure of the sphere-shaped body, and behind it; while the sun, exceeding the earth by a size many times as great as its own, enfolding it round about on all sides with its rays, unites at the limit of the cone the concurrent streams of light; so that if (to suppose the case) any one had the power of passing beyond the measure to which the shadow extends, he would certainly find himself in light unbroken by darkness — even so I think that we ought to understand about ourselves, that on passing the limit of wickedness we shall again have our conversation in light, as the nature of good, when compared with the measure of wickedness, is incalculably superabundant.

Paradise will therefore be restored, that tree will be restored which is truly the tree of life, the grace of the image will be restored, and the dignity of rule will be restored. It does not seem to me that what we hope for is the same as those things that are now subjected by God to humanity for the necessary uses of life, but rather another kingdom, one that belongs to mysteries beyond words.

4. Paradise therefore will be restored, that tree will be restored which is in truth the tree of life — there will be restored the grace of the image, and the dignity of rule. It does not seem to me that our hope is one for those things which are now subjected by God to man for the necessary uses of life, but one for another kingdom, of a description that belongs to unspeakable mysteries.

Let us turn our attention to the next point of our discussion. Perhaps someone, letting his thoughts soar toward the sweetness of our hope, considers it a burden and a loss that we are not more quickly placed in that good state which is beyond human sense and knowledge, and is unhappy with the length of time that lies between him and the object of his desire. He should stop troubling himself like a child who is upset by a short delay of something that gives him pleasure. Since all things are governed by reason and wisdom, we must not in any way suppose that anything that happens occurs without reason itself and the wisdom that is in it.

1. Let us give our attention, however, to the next point of our discussion. It may be that some one, giving his thought wings to soar towards the sweetness of our hope, deems it a burden and a loss that we are not more speedily placed in that good state which is above man's sense and knowledge, and is dissatisfied with the extension of the time that intervenes between him and the object of his desire. Let him cease to vex himself like a child that is discontented at the brief delay of something that gives him pleasure; for since all things are governed by reason and wisdom, we must by no means suppose that anything that happens is done without reason itself and the wisdom that is therein.

You might ask, then, what is the reason why the change from our painful life to the one we desire doesn't happen immediately, but instead our heavy and bodily existence waits, stretched out to some fixed time, for the end of the consummation of all things, so that then human life may be set free as if from reins and return once more, released and free, to the life of blessedness and impassibility?

2. You will say then, What is this reason, in accordance with which the change of our painful life to that which we desire does not take place at once, but this heavy and corporeal existence of ours waits, extended to some determinate time, for the term of the consummation of all things, that then man's life may be set free as it were from the reins, and revert once more, released and free, to the life of blessedness and impassibility?

Well, whether our answer comes close to the truth of the matter, the Truth Itself may clearly know; but at any rate what occurs to our thinking is as follows. I take up then once more in my argument our first text: God says, "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness," and "God created man, in the image of God created He him" (Genesis 1:26-27). Accordingly, the Image of God, which we see in universal humanity, had its completion then; but Adam did not yet exist; for the thing formed from the earth is called Adam, according to the meaning of the word, as those who are familiar with the Hebrew language tell us—which is why the apostle, who was especially learned in his native language, the language of the Israelites, calls the man of the earth (1 Corinthians 15:47) χοϊκός, as though he were translating the name Adam into the Greek word.

3. Well, whether our answer is near the truth of the matter, the Truth Itself may clearly know; but at all events what occurs to our intelligence is as follows. I take up then once more in my argument our first text:– God says, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness, and God created man, in the image of God created He him Genesis 1:26-27. Accordingly, the Image of God, which we behold in universal humanity, had its consummation then; but Adam as yet was not; for the thing formed from the earth is called Adam, by etymological nomenclature, as those tell us who are acquainted with the Hebrew tongue — wherefore also the apostle, who was specially learned in his native tongue, the tongue of the Israelites, calls the man of the earth 1 Corinthians 15:47 χοϊκός, as though translating the name Adam into the Greek word.

Man, then, was made in the image of God; that is, the universal nature, the thing like God. Not part of the whole, but the entire fullness of our nature together was made this way by omnipotent wisdom. He who holds all boundaries in His grasp—as Scripture tells us when it says "in His hand are all the corners of the earth"—He who knows all things even before they come to be, comprehending them in His knowledge, saw how great in number humanity would be in the total sum of its individuals. But because He perceived in our created nature the tendency toward evil, and the fact that after its voluntary fall from equality with the angels it would gain a fellowship with the lower nature, He mixed into His own image, for this reason, an element of the irrational (for the distinction of male and female does not exist in the divine and blessed nature). Transferring to man, I say, the special characteristic of the irrational formation, He granted increase to our race not according to the lofty character of our creation. For it was not when He made that which was in His own image that He gave man the power of increasing and multiplying; but when He divided it by sexual distinctions, then He said, "Increase and multiply, and replenish the earth." For this belongs not to the divine, but to the irrational element, as the biblical account indicates when it records that these words were first spoken by God in the case of the irrational creatures. Since we may be sure that if He had given man, before imprinting on our nature the distinction of male and female, the power for increase conveyed by this utterance, we would not have needed this form of generation by which the brute animals are generated.

4. Man, then, was made in the image of God; that is, the universal nature, the thing like God; not part of the whole, but all the fullness of the nature together was so made by omnipotent wisdom. He saw, Who holds all limits in His grasp, as the Scripture tells us which says, in His hand are all the corners of the earth, He saw, Who knows all things even before they be, comprehending them in His knowledge, how great in number humanity will be in the sum of its individuals. But as He perceived in our created nature the bias towards evil, and the fact that after its voluntary fall from equality with the angels it would acquire a fellowship with the lower nature, He mingled, for this reason, with His own image, an element of the irrational (for the distinction of male and female does not exist in the Divine and blessed nature);– transferring, I say, to man the special attribute of the irrational formation, He bestowed increase upon our race not according to the lofty character of our creation; for it was not when He made that which was in His own image that He bestowed on man the power of increasing and multiplying; but when He divided it by sexual distinctions, then He said, Increase and multiply, and replenish the earth Genesis 1:28. For this belongs not to the Divine, but to the irrational element, as the history indicates when it narrates that these words were first spoken by God in the case of the irrational creatures; since we may be sure that, if He had bestowed on man, before imprinting on our nature the distinction of male and female, the power for increase conveyed by this utterance, we should not have needed this form of generation by which the brutes are generated.

Now since the full number of human beings that God foresaw through his foreknowledge will come into life through animal reproduction, God, who governs all things in a certain order and sequence—because our nature's inclination toward what was lower than itself (which he who sees the future as clearly as the present saw before it existed) made this kind of reproduction absolutely necessary for humanity—therefore also foreknew the extent of time needed for the creation of human beings, so that the length of time would be suited to allow all the predetermined souls to enter existence, and so that the flow and movement of time would stop at the moment when humanity is no longer being produced through it. When the generation of human beings is completed, time will cease along with that completion, and then the restoration of all things will take place, and with the cosmic restoration humanity will also be changed from the corruptible and earthly to the impassible and eternal.

5. Now seeing that the full number of men pre-conceived by the operation of foreknowledge will come into life by means of this animal generation, God, Who governs all things in a certain order and sequence — since the inclination of our nature to what was beneath it (which He Who beholds the future equally with the present saw before it existed) made some such form of generation absolutely necessary for mankind — therefore also foreknew the time coextensive with the creation of men, so that the extent of time should be adapted for the entrances of the pre-determined souls, and that the flux and motion of time should halt at the moment when humanity is no longer produced by means of it; and that when the generation of men is completed, time should cease together with its completion, and then should take place the restitution of all things, and with the World-Reformation humanity also should be changed from the corruptible and earthly to the impassible and eternal.

The Divine apostle seems to have considered this when he spoke in his letter to the Corinthians about the sudden stopping of time and the reversal of things now in motion back to the opposite direction. He says, "Behold, I show you a mystery; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump." When the full number of human nature reaches the limit of the predetermined measure—because there is nothing left to add to the number of souls—he teaches us that the transformation of existing things will happen in an instant. He gives names to that indivisible limit of time which has no parts or extension: "a moment" and "the twinkling of an eye." This means that someone who reaches the edge of time (which is the final and farthest point, since nothing remains to complete it) will no longer be able to undergo through death this change that happens at a set time. Instead, it will only happen when the trumpet of the resurrection sounds, which awakens the dead and transforms those still living into the likeness of those who have already undergone the resurrection change—immediately into incorruptibility. The weight of the flesh will no longer be heavy, nor will its burden hold them down to earth. Instead, they will rise up through the air, for he tells us, "we shall be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air; and so shall we ever be with the Lord."

6. And this it seems to me the Divine apostle considered when he declared in his epistle to the Corinthians the sudden stoppage of time, and the change of the things that are now moving on back to the opposite end where he says, Behold, I show you a mystery; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump 1 Corinthians 15:51-52. For when, as I suppose, the full complement of human nature has reached the limit of the pre-determined measure, because there is no longer anything to be made up in the way of increase to the number of souls, he teaches us that the change in existing things will take place in an instant of time, giving to that limit of time which has no parts or extension the names of a moment, and the twinkling of an eye; so that it will no more be possible for one who reaches the verge of time (which is the last and extreme point, from the fact that nothing is lacking to the attainment of its extremity) to obtain by death this change which takes place at a fixed period, but only when the trumpet of the resurrection sounds, which awakens the dead, and transforms those who are left in life, after the likeness of those who have undergone the resurrection change, at once to incorruptibility; so that the weight of the flesh is no longer heavy, nor does its burden hold them down to earth, but they rise aloft through the air — for, we shall be caught up, he tells us, in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air; and so shall we ever be with the Lord 1 Thessalonians 4:17.

Let him therefore wait for that time which necessarily extends along with the development of humanity. For even Abraham and the patriarchs, while they desired to see the promised good things and never stopped seeking the heavenly country, as the apostle says, are still even now in the condition of hoping for that grace, since God provided something better for us, according to Paul's words, so that they should not be made perfect without us. If they endure the delay—those who by faith alone and by hope saw the good things from far off and embraced them, as the apostle testifies, placing their certainty of enjoying what they hoped for in the fact that they judged Him faithful who has promised—what ought most of us to do, who perhaps do not have a grasp on the better hope because of the character of our lives? Even the prophet's soul fainted with desire, and in his psalm he confesses this passionate love, saying that his soul desires and longs to be in the courts of the Lord, even if he must be rejected to a place among the lowest, since it is a greater and more desirable thing to be last there than to be first among the ungodly tents of this life. Nevertheless, he was patient with the delay, considering the life there blessed and judging a brief participation in it more desirable than thousands of years—for he says, one day in your courts is better than thousands—yet he did not complain about the necessary dispensation concerning existing things, and thought it sufficient happiness for man to have those good things even by way of hope. Therefore he says at the end of the psalm, O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that hopes in you.

7. Let him therefore wait for that time which is necessarily made co-extensive with the development of humanity. For even Abraham and the patriarchs, while they had the desire to see the promised good things, and ceased not to seek the heavenly country, as the apostle says, are yet even now in the condition of hoping for that grace, God having provided some better thing for us, according to the words of Paul, that they without us should not be made perfect Hebrews 11:40. If they, then, bear the delay who by faith only and by hope saw the good things afar off and embraced them Hebrews 11:13, as the apostle bears witness, placing their certainty of the enjoyment of the things for which they hoped in the fact that they judged Him faithful Who has promised Hebrews 11:11, what ought most of us to do, who have not, it may be, a hold upon the better hope from the character of our lives? Even the prophet's soul fainted with desire, and in his psalm he confesses this passionate love, saying that his soul has a desire and longing to be in the courts of the Lord, even if he must needs be rejected to a place among the lowest, as it is a greater and more desirable thing to be last there than to be first among the ungodly tents of this life; nevertheless he was patient of the delay, deeming, indeed, the life there blessed, and accounting a brief participation in it more desirable than thousands of time — for he says, one day in Your courts is better than thousands — yet he did not repine at the necessary dispensation concerning existing things, and thought it sufficient bliss for man to have those good things even by way of hope; wherefore he says at the end of the Psalm, O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that hopes in You.

We should not be troubled by the brief delay of what we hope for, but instead work diligently to ensure we are not excluded from the object of our hopes. It's like this: if someone told an inexperienced person that the harvest will come in summer, the storehouses will be filled, and the table will overflow with food at that time of plenty, it would be foolish for that person to try to rush the arrival of harvest time. Instead, he should be sowing seeds and preparing his crops through careful work. The harvest will certainly come at its appointed time, whether he wants it to or not. But how different that time will look to someone who has secured an abundance of crops for himself beforehand, compared to someone whom harvest time finds completely unprepared. In the same way, I believe that since the proclamation has been clearly made to everyone that the time of change will come, our duty is not to worry about the timing—for He said it is not for us to know the times and the seasons—nor to pursue calculations that will surely undermine the hope of the resurrection in the soul. Rather, we should make our confidence in the things we expect into something to lean on, and purchase for ourselves, through good conduct, the grace that is to come.

8. Neither, then, should we be troubled at the brief delay of what we hope for, but give diligence that we may not be cast out from the object of our hopes; for just as though, if one were to tell some inexperienced person beforehand, the gathering of the crops will take place in the season of summer, and the stores will be filled, and the table abundantly supplied with food at the time of plenty, it would be a foolish man who should seek to hurry on the coming of the fruit-time, when he ought to be sowing seeds and preparing the crops for himself by diligent care; for the fruit-time will surely come, whether he wishes or not, at the appointed time; and it will be looked on differently by him who has secured for himself beforehand abundance of crops, and by him who is found by the fruit-time destitute of all preparation. Even so I think it is one's duty, as the proclamation is clearly made to all that the time of change will come, not to trouble himself about times (for He said that it is not for us to know the times and the seasons Acts 1:7), nor to pursue calculations by which he will be sure to sap the hope of the resurrection in the soul; but to make his confidence in the things expected as a prop to lean on, and to purchase for himself, by good conversation, the grace that is to come.

But if someone, observing the present course of the world by which intervals of time are marked, proceeding in a certain order, should say that the predicted stopping of these moving things cannot take place, such a person clearly does not believe that in the beginning heaven and earth were made by God. For whoever admits a beginning of motion surely does not doubt that it also has an end. And whoever does not allow its end does not admit its beginning either. But just as it is by believing that we understand the worlds were framed by the word of God, as the apostle says, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear, we must use the same faith regarding the word of God when He foretells the necessary stopping of existing things.

But if some one, beholding the present course of the world, by which intervals of time are marked, going on in a certain order, should say that it is not possible that the predicted stoppage of these moving things should take place, such a man clearly also does not believe that in the beginning the heaven and the earth were made by God; for he who admits a beginning of motion surely does not doubt as to its also having an end; and he who does not allow its end, does not admit its beginning either; but as it is by believing that we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, as the apostle says, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear, we must use the same faith as to the word of God when He foretells the necessary stoppage of existing things.

The question of how this happens must be placed beyond our interference. Even in the case we mentioned, it was by faith that we accepted that what we see was formed from things not yet visible, leaving aside any investigation into matters beyond our grasp. Yet our reason raises difficulties on many points, providing no small opportunities for doubt concerning the things we believe.

2. The question of the how must, however, be put beyond the reach of our meddling; for even in the case mentioned it was by faith that we admitted that the thing seen was framed from things not yet apparent, omitting the search into things beyond our reach. And yet our reason suggests difficulties on many points, offering no small occasions for doubt as to the things which we believe.

For in that case too, argumentative people might use plausible reasoning to upset our faith, so that we would not think true what Holy Scripture says about material creation when it states that all existing things receive their beginning of being from God. For those who hold the opposite view maintain that matter is co-eternal with God, and use arguments like these to support their own teaching. If God is in His nature simple and immaterial, without quantity, or size, or combination, and removed from the idea of being bounded by any shape, while all matter is apprehended as extended and measured by intervals, and does not escape the awareness of our senses, but becomes known to us in color, and shape, and bulk, and size, and resistance, and the other properties belonging to it, none of which can be conceived in the Divine nature—what method is there for the production of matter from the immaterial, or of the nature that has dimensions from that which is unextended? For if these things are believed to have their existence from that source, they clearly come into existence after being in Him in some mysterious way; but if material existence was in Him, how can He be immaterial while including matter in Himself? And similarly with all the other marks by which the material nature is differentiated; if quantity exists in God, how is God without quantity? If the compound nature exists in Him, how is He simple, without parts and without combination? So that the argument forces us to think either that He is material, because matter has its existence from Him as a source; or, if one avoids this, it is necessary to suppose that matter was brought in by Him from outside for the making of the universe.

3. For in that case too, argumentative men might by plausible reasoning upset our faith, so that we should not think that statement true which Holy Scripture delivers concerning the material creation, when it asserts that all existing things have their beginning of being from God. For those who abide by the contrary view maintain that matter is co-eternal with God, and employ in support of their own doctrine some such arguments as these. If God is in His nature simple and immaterial, without quantity, or size, or combination, and removed from the idea of circumscription by way of figure, while all matter is apprehended in extension measured by intervals, and does not escape the apprehension of our senses, but becomes known to us in color, and figure, and bulk, and size, and resistance, and the other attributes belonging to it, none of which it is possible to conceive in the Divine nature, — what method is there for the production of matter from the immaterial, or of the nature that has dimensions from that which is unextended? For if these things are believed to have their existence from that source, they clearly come into existence after being in Him in some mysterious way; but if material existence was in Him, how can He be immaterial while including matter in Himself? And similarly with all the other marks by which the material nature is differentiated; if quantity exists in God, how is God without quantity? If the compound nature exists in Him, how is He simple, without parts and without combination? So that the argument forces us to think either that He is material, because matter has its existence from Him as a source; or, if one avoids this, it is necessary to suppose that matter was imported by Him ab extra for the making of the universe.

If matter was external to God, then surely something else existed besides God, understood as eternal alongside Him who exists without being generated. So the argument assumes two eternal and unbegotten existences, existing at the same time as each other—that of Him who works as a craftsman, and that of the thing which receives this skilled work. And if anyone, forced by this argument, should assume a material foundation for the Creator of all things, what support will the Manichean find for his particular doctrine, who sets a material existence against a Good Being by virtue of both being ungenerated. Yet we do believe that all things are from God, as we hear Scripture say. And as to the question of how they were in God, a question beyond our reason, we do not try to investigate it, believing that all things are within the capacity of God's power—both to give existence to what does not exist, and to place qualities as He pleases in what does exist.

4. If, then, it was external to God, something else surely existed besides God, conceived, in respect of eternity, together with Him Who exists ungenerately; so that the argument supposes two eternal and unbegotten existences, having their being concurrently with each other– that of Him Who operates as an artificer, and that of the thing which admits this skilled operation; and if any one under pressure of this argument should assume a material substratum for the Creator of all things, what a support will the Manichæan find for his special doctrine, who opposes by virtue of ungenerateness a material existence to a Good Being. Yet we do believe that all things are of God, as we hear the Scripture say so; and as to the question how they were in God, a question beyond our reason, we do not seek to pry into it, believing that all things are within the capacity of God's power — both to give existence to what is not, and to implant qualities at His pleasure in what is.

Since we suppose that the power of the Divine will is a sufficient cause for things that exist to come into being out of nothing, we will also not place our belief beyond what is probable when we attribute the World-Reformation to that same power. Furthermore, it might perhaps be possible, through some skill in using words, to persuade those who raise trivial objections about matter not to think they can launch an irrefutable attack against our statement.

5. Consequently, as we suppose the power of the Divine will to be a sufficient cause to the things that are, for their coming into existence out of nothing, so too we shall not repose our belief on anything beyond probability in referring the World-Reformation to the same power. Moreover, it might perhaps be possible, by some skill in the use of words, to persuade those who raise frivolous objections on the subject of matter not to think that they can make an unanswerable attack on our statement.

For after all, that opinion on the subject of matter does not turn out to be beyond what appears consistent, which declares that it has its existence from Him Who is intelligible and immaterial. For we shall find all matter to be composed of certain qualities, and if it is stripped of these, it cannot in itself be grasped by thought at all. Moreover, in thought each kind of quality is separated from the underlying substance; but thought is an intellectual and not a corporeal method of examination. If, for instance, some animal or tree is presented to our notice, or any other thing that has material existence, we perceive in our mental discussion of it many things concerning the underlying substance, and the idea of each of these is clearly distinguished from the object we contemplate: for the idea of color is one thing, of weight another; so again the idea of quantity and of such and such a peculiar quality of touch: for softness, and two cubits long, and the rest of the attributes we spoke of, are not connected in thought either with one another or with the body: each of them has its own explanatory definition conceived according to its being, having nothing in common with any other of the qualities that are contemplated in the underlying substance.

1. For after all that opinion on the subject of matter does not turn out to be beyond what appears consistent, which declares that it has its existence from Him Who is intelligible and immaterial. For we shall find all matter to be composed of certain qualities, of which if it is divested it can, in itself, be by no means grasped by idea. Moreover in idea each kind of quality is separated from the substratum; but idea is an intellectual and not a corporeal method of examination. If, for instance, some animal or tree is presented to our notice, or any other of the things that have material existence, we perceive in our mental discussion of it many things concerning the substratum, the idea of each of which is clearly distinguished from the object we contemplate: for the idea of color is one, of weight another; so again that of quantity and of such and such a peculiar quality of touch: for softness, and two cubits long, and the rest of the attributes we spoke of, are not connected in idea either with one another or with the body: each of them has conceived concerning it its own explanatory definition according to its being, having nothing in common with any other of the qualities that are contemplated in the substratum.

If color is something we can understand intellectually, and resistance is also intelligible, and so with quantity and the rest of such properties, and if each of these is removed from what underlies them, the whole concept of body falls apart, then it would follow that we can suppose the coming together of these things—the absence of which we found causes the body to dissolve—produces material nature. For just as something is not a body if it lacks color, shape, resistance, extension, weight, and the other properties, while each of these in its own existence is found to be not the body itself but something distinct from the body, so conversely, whenever these specific attributes come together they produce bodily existence. Yet if the perception of these properties is a matter of intellect, and the Divine nature is also intellectual, there is nothing inconsistent in supposing that these intellectual causes for the origin of bodies have their existence from the incorporeal nature—the intellectual nature giving being to the intellectual potentialities, and the mutual coming together of these bringing material nature into existence.

2. If, then, color is a thing intelligible, and resistance also is intelligible, and so with quantity and the rest of the like properties, while if each of these should be withdrawn from the substratum, the whole idea of the body is dissolved; it would seem to follow that we may suppose the concurrence of those things, the absence of which we found to be a cause of the dissolution of the body, to produce the material nature: for as that is not a body which has not color, and figure, and resistance, and extension, and weight, and the other properties, while each of these in its proper existence is found to be not the body but something else besides the body, so, conversely, whenever the specified attributes concur they produce bodily existence. Yet if the perception of these properties is a matter of intellect, and the Divinity is also intellectual in nature, there is no incongruity in supposing that these intellectual occasions for the genesis of bodies have their existence from the incorporeal nature, the intellectual nature on the one hand giving being to the intellectual potentialities, and the mutual concurrence of these bringing to its genesis the material nature.

Let this discussion serve as a digression. We must now return our attention to the faith through which we accept the teaching that the universe came into being from nothing, and we do not doubt, when Scripture teaches us, that it will be transformed again into some other state.

3. Let this discussion, however, be by way of digression: we must direct our discourse once more to the faith by which we accept the statement that the universe took being from nothing, and do not doubt, when we are taught by Scripture, that it will again be transformed into some other state.

Someone, perhaps, looking at the decomposition of bodies and measuring God's power by the standard of his own power, claims that the idea of the resurrection is impossible, saying that it cannot be that both those things which are now in motion should become stationary, and those things which are now without motion should rise again.

1. Some one, perhaps, having regard to the dissolution of bodies, and judging the Deity by the measure of his own power, asserts that the idea of the resurrection is impossible, saying that it cannot be that both those things which are now in motion should become stationary, and those things which are now without motion should rise again.

Let someone like this consider as the first and greatest evidence for the truth about the resurrection the credibility of the one who proclaims it. The trustworthiness of what is said depends on how the other predictions have turned out: since Divine Scripture makes many different statements, it is possible by examining whether the rest of its claims are false or true to evaluate in light of them the teaching about the resurrection as well. If the statements about other matters turn out to be false and have not been truly fulfilled, then this teaching also is not free from falsehood. But if all the others have experience to confirm their truth, it would be logical to consider the prediction about the resurrection as true on account of them. Let us therefore call to mind one or two of the predictions that have been made and compare the outcome with what was predicted, so that through them we may know whether the idea appears truthful.

2. Let such an one, however, take as the first and greatest evidence of the truth touching the resurrection the credibility of the herald who proclaims it. Now the faith of what is said derives its certainty from the result of the other predictions: for as the Divine Scripture delivers statements many and various, it is possible by examining how the rest of the utterances stand in the matter of falsehood and truth to survey also, in the light of them, the doctrine concerning the resurrection. For if in the other matters the statements are found to be false and to have failed of true fulfilment, neither is this out of the region of falsehood; but if all the others have experience to vouch for their truth, it would seem logical to esteem as true, on their account, the prediction concerning the resurrection also. Let us therefore recall one or two of the predictions that have been made, and compare the result with what was foretold, so that we may know by means of them whether the idea has a truthful aspect.

Who doesn't know how the people of Israel flourished long ago, standing strong against all the powers of the world? What were the palaces in the city of Jerusalem, the walls, the towers, the majestic structure of the Temple? These things seemed worthy of admiration even to the disciples of the Lord, so that they asked the Lord to notice them, being inclined to marvel, as the Gospel history shows us, saying, "What works, and what buildings!" But He pointed out to those who wondered at its present state the future desolation of the place and the disappearance of that beauty, saying that after a little while nothing of what they saw would be left. And again, at the time of His Passion, the women followed, mourning the unjust sentence against Him—for they could not yet understand the plan of what was being done. But He told them to be silent about what was happening to Him, for it did not require their tears, but to save their wailing and lamentation for the true time for tears, when the city would be surrounded by besiegers, and their sufferings would reach such a desperate point that they would consider blessed the one who had never been born. And in this He also foretold the horrible deed of the woman who devoured her child, when He said that in those days the womb would be counted blessed that never bore. Where then are those palaces? Where is the Temple? Where are the walls? Where are the defenses of the towers? Where is the power of the Israelites? Were they not scattered in different regions over almost the whole world? And in their overthrow the palaces also were brought to ruin.

3. Who knows not how the people of Israel flourished of old, raised up against all the powers of the world; what were the palaces in the city of Jerusalem, what the walls, the towers, the majestic structure of the Temple? Things that seemed worthy of admiration even to the disciples of the Lord, so that they asked the Lord to take notice of them, in their disposition to marvel, as the Gospel history shows us, saying, What works, and what buildings! But He indicates to those who wondered at its present state the future desolation of the place and the disappearance of that beauty, saying that after a little while nothing of what they saw should be left. And, again, at the time of His Passion, the women followed, bewailing the unjust sentence against Him — for they could not yet see into the dispensation of what was being done:– but He bids them be silent as to what is befalling Him, for it does not demand their tears, but to reserve their wailing and lamentation for the true time for tears, when the city should be compassed by besiegers, and their sufferings reach so great a strait that they should deem him happy who had not been born: and herein He foretold also the horrid deed of her who devoured her child, when He said that in those days the womb should be accounted blessed that never bare. Luke 23:27-29 Where then are those palaces? Where is the Temple? Where are the walls? Where are the defences of the towers? Where is the power of the Israelites? Were not they scattered in different quarters over almost the whole world? And in their overthrow the palaces also were brought to ruin.

Now it seems to me that the Lord foretold these things and others like them not for the sake of the matters themselves—for what great advantage to the hearers was there, really, in the prediction of what was going to happen? They would have learned by experience even if they had not been told beforehand what was coming—but rather so that through these means their faith might follow regarding more important matters. The testimony of facts in the former cases serves as proof of truth in the latter as well.

4. Now it seems to me that the Lord foretold these things and others like them not for the sake of the matters themselves — for what great advantage to the hearers, at any rate, was the prediction of what was about to happen? They would have known by experience, even if they had not previously learned what would come — but in order that by these means faith on their part might follow concerning more important matters: for the testimony of facts in the former cases is also a proof of truth in the latter.

Just as if a farmer were explaining the power of seeds and someone with no farming experience refused to believe him, it would be enough proof for the farmer to show that person the power present in a single seed from the bushel and make it a guarantee for the rest—for whoever sees a single grain of wheat or barley, or whatever else might be in the bushel, grow into a stalk after being thrown into the ground would stop doubting the others because of that one seed—in the same way, the truthfulness that clearly belongs to the other statements seems to me to be sufficient evidence for the mystery of the resurrection as well.

5. For just as though, if a husbandman were explaining the virtue of seeds, it were to happen that some person inexperienced in husbandry should disbelieve him, it would be sufficient as proof of his statement for the agriculturist to show him the virtue existing in one seed of those in the bushel and make it a pledge of the rest — for he who should see the single grain of wheat or barley, or whatever might chance to be the contents of the bushel, grow into an ear after being cast into the ground, would by the means of the one cease also to disbelieve concerning the others — so the truthfulness which confessedly belongs to the other statements seems to me to be sufficient also for evidence of the mystery of the resurrection.

Still more is this the case with the actual experience of resurrection, which we have learned not so much through words as through actual facts. Since the marvel of resurrection was great and beyond belief, He begins gradually with lesser instances of His miraculous power, and trains our faith, so to speak, to receive the greater.

6. Still more, however, is this the case with the experience of actual resurrection which we have learned not so much by words as by actual facts: for as the marvel of resurrection was great and passing belief, He begins gradually by inferior instances of His miraculous power, and accustoms our faith, as it were, for the reception of the greater.

Just as a mother who nurses her baby with proper care provides milk from her breast to its still tender and soft mouth for a time, and when the child begins to grow and get teeth she gives it bread—not hard bread or bread it cannot chew, so that the tender and inexperienced gums are not irritated by rough food—but instead softens it with her own teeth to make it suitable and easy for the child's ability to eat, and then as the child's strength increases through growth she gradually introduces the baby, now used to soft food, to more solid nourishment—in the same way the Lord, nurturing and training the weakness of the human mind with miracles, like a child not yet fully grown, first presents a preview of the power of the resurrection in the case of a serious illness. This preview, though it was a great accomplishment, was not the kind of thing whose report would be disbelieved, because by rebuking the fever that was fiercely consuming Simon's mother-in-law, He brought about such a complete removal of the illness that the woman who had already been expected to be near death was able to serve those who were present.

7. For as a mother who nurses her babe with due care for a time supplies milk by her breast to its mouth while still tender and soft; and when it begins to grow and to have teeth she gives it bread, not hard or such as it cannot chew, so that the tender and unpractised gums may not be chafed by rough food; but softening it with her own teeth, she makes it suitable and convenient for the powers of the eater; and then as its power increases by growth she gradually leads on the babe, accustomed to tender food, to more solid nourishment; so the Lord, nourishing and fostering with miracles the weakness of the human mind, like some babe not fully grown, makes first of all a prelude of the power of the resurrection in the case of a desperate disease, which prelude, though it was great in its achievement, yet was not such a thing that the statement of it would be disbelieved: for by rebuking the fever which was fiercely consuming Simon's wife's mother, He produced so great a removal of the evil as to enable her who was already expected to be near death, to minister to those present.

Next He makes a slight increase in power, and when the nobleman's son lies in acknowledged danger of death (for the story tells us he was about to die, as his father cried out, "Come down before my child dies"), He again brings about the resurrection of one who was believed about to die. He accomplishes the miracle with a greater act of power in that He does not even approach the place, but sends life from a distance by the force of His command.

8. Next He makes a slight addition to the power, and when the nobleman's son lies in acknowledged danger of death (for so the history tells us, that he was about to die, as his father cried, come down, ere my child die), He again brings about the resurrection of one who was believed about to die; accomplishing the miracle with a greater act of power in that He did not even approach the place, but sent life from afar off by the force of His command.

Once again in what follows, He moves to even greater wonders. For having set out on His way to the synagogue ruler's daughter, He willingly stopped along the way while revealing the hidden healing of the woman with an issue of blood, so that during this time death might overtake the sick girl. When, then, the soul had just departed from the body, and those who were mourning over the tragedy were making an uproar with their sorrowful cries, He raises the girl to life again, as if from sleep, by His word of command, leading human weakness, by a kind of path and progression, to greater things.

9. Once more in what follows He ascends to higher wonders. For having set out on His way to the ruler of the synagogue's daughter, he voluntarily made a halt in His way, while making public the secret cure of the woman with an issue of blood, that in this time death might overcome the sick. When, then, the soul had just been parted from the body, and those who were wailing over the sorrow were making a tumult with their mournful cries, He raises the damsel to life again, as if from sleep, by His word of command, leading on human weakness, by a sort of path and sequence, to greater things.

Still, in addition to these acts, He exceeds them in wonder and, through a more exalted act of power, prepares for people the way of faith in the resurrection. Scripture tells us of a city called Nain in Judea. A widow there had an only child, no longer a child in the sense of being among boys, but already passing from childhood to manhood—the narrative calls him a young man. The story conveys much in few words; the very telling is itself a real lamentation. The dead man's mother, it says, was a widow. Do you see the weight of her misfortune, how the text briefly sets out the tragedy of her suffering? For what does this phrase mean? That she had no more hope of bearing sons to make up for the loss she had just sustained in the one who had died, for the woman was a widow. She did not have it in her power to look to another instead of the one who had gone, for he was her only child. And anyone who is not a complete stranger to natural feeling can easily see how great a grief is expressed here. He alone she had known in childbirth, he alone she had nursed at her breast. He alone made her table cheerful, he alone was the cause of brightness in her home—in play, in work, in learning, in joy, at processions, at sports, at gatherings of young people. He alone was all that is sweet and precious in a mother's eyes. Now at the age of marriage, he was the stock of her family line, the shoot of its continuation, the staff of her old age. Moreover, even the additional detail of his time of life is another lament, for whoever speaks of him as a young man tells of the flower of his faded beauty, speaks of him as just covering his face with soft down, not yet with a full thick beard, but still bright with the beauty of his cheeks. What then, do you think, were his mother's sorrows for him? How would her heart be consumed as if with a flame? How bitterly would she prolong her lament over him, embracing the corpse as it lay before her, lengthening out her mourning for him as far as possible, so as not to hasten the funeral of the dead but to have her fill of sorrow? Nor does the narrative pass this by, for when Jesus saw her, it says, He had compassion. And He came and touched the bier, and those who carried him stood still. And He said to the dead, "Young man, I say to you, arise" (Luke 7:13-15), and He delivered him to his mother alive. Observe that no short time had passed since the dead man had entered that state—he was all but laid in the tomb. The miracle worked by the Lord is greater, though the command is the same.

10. Still in addition to these acts He exceeds them in wonder, and by a more exalted act of power prepares for men the way of faith in the resurrection. The Scripture tells us of a city called Nain in Judæa: a widow there had an only child, no longer a child in the sense of being among boys, but already passing from childhood to man's estate: the narrative calls him a young man. The story conveys much in few words: the very recital is a real lamentation: the dead man's mother, it says, was a widow. See you the weight of her misfortune, how the text briefly sets out the tragedy of her suffering? For what does the phrase mean? That she had no more hope of bearing sons, to cure the loss she had just sustained in him who had departed; for the woman was a widow: she had not in her power to look to another instead of to him who had gone; for he was her only child; and how great a grief is here expressed any one may easily see who is not an utter stranger to natural feeling. Him alone she had known in travail, him alone she had nursed at her breast; he alone made her table cheerful, he alone was the cause of brightness in her home, in play, in work, in learning, in gaiety, at processions, at sports, at gatherings of youth; he alone was all that is sweet and precious in a mother's eyes. Now at the age of marriage, he was the stock of her race, the shoot of its succession, the staff of her old age. Moreover, even the additional detail of his time of life is another lament: for he who speaks of him as a young man tells of the flower of his faded beauty, speaks of him as just covering his face with down, not yet with a full thick beard, but still bright with the beauty of his cheeks. What then, think you, were his mother's sorrows for him? How would her heart be consumed as it were with a flame; how bitterly would she prolong her lament over him, embracing the corpse as it lay before her, lengthening out her mourning for him as far as possible, so as not to hasten the funeral of the dead, but to have her fill of sorrow! Nor does the narrative pass this by: for Jesus when He saw her, it says, had compassion; and He came and touched the bier; and they that carried him stood still; and He said to the dead, Young man, I say unto you, arise Luke 7:13-15, and He delivered him to his mother alive. Observe that no short time had intervened since the dead man had entered upon that state, he was all but laid in the tomb; the miracle wrought by the Lord is greater, though the command is the same.

His miraculous power proceeds to an even more exalted act, so that its display may more closely approach that miracle of the resurrection which people doubt. One of the Lord's companions and friends is ill (the sick man's name is Lazarus), and the Lord deliberately avoids visiting His friend, though far away from the sick man, so that in the absence of the Life, death might find room and power to do his own work through the agency of disease. The Lord informs His disciples in Galilee of what has happened to Lazarus, and also of his own plan to go to him to raise him up when he has died. However, they were extremely afraid because of the fury of the Jews, thinking it a difficult and dangerous matter to turn back toward Judea, in the midst of those who sought to kill Him. And so, lingering and delaying, they return slowly from Galilee—but they do return, for His command prevailed, and the disciples were led by the Lord to be instructed at Bethany in the preliminary mysteries of the general resurrection. Four days had already passed since the event; all proper rites had been performed for the departed; the body was hidden in the tomb. It was probably already swollen and beginning to dissolve into corruption, as the body decayed in the damp earth and necessarily broke down. The thing was something to turn away from, as the dissolved body under the constraint of nature changed to offensiveness. At this point the doubted fact of the general resurrection is brought to proof by a more manifest miracle. For one is not raised from severe sickness, nor brought back to life when at the last breath—nor is a child just dead brought to life, nor a young man about to be carried to the tomb released from his bier. But a man past the prime of life, a corpse, decaying, swollen, indeed already in a state of dissolution, so that even his own relatives could not allow the Lord to approach the tomb because of the offensiveness of the decayed body enclosed there—this man, brought into life by a single call, confirms the proclamation of the resurrection, that is to say, that expectation of it as universal, which we learn by a particular experience to hold. For just as in the regeneration of the universe the Apostle tells us that the Lord Himself will descend with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and by a trumpet sound raise up the dead to incorruption, so now too he who is in the tomb, at the voice of command, shakes off death as if it were a sleep, and ridding himself from the corruption that had come upon his condition of a corpse, leaps forth from the tomb whole and sound, not even hindered in his exit by the bonds of the grave-cloths around his feet and hands.

11. His miraculous power proceeds to a still more exalted act, that its display may more closely approach that miracle of the resurrection which men doubt. One of the Lord's companions and friends is ill (Lazarus is the sick man's name); and the Lord deprecates any visiting of His friend, though far away from the sick man, that in the absence of the Life, death might find room and power to do his own work by the agency of disease. The Lord informs His disciples in Galilee of what has befallen Lazarus, and also of his own setting out to him to raise him up when laid low. They, however, were exceedingly afraid on account of the fury of the Jews, thinking it a difficult and dangerous matter to turn again towards Judæa, in the midst of those who sought to slay Him: and thus, lingering and delaying, they return slowly from Galilee: but they do return, for His command prevailed, and the disciples were led by the Lord to be initiated at Bethany in the preliminary mysteries of the general resurrection. Four days had already passed since the event; all due rites had been performed for the departed; the body was hidden in the tomb: it was probably already swollen and beginning to dissolve into corruption, as the body mouldered in the dank earth and necessarily decayed: the thing was one to turn from, as the dissolved body under the constraint of nature changed to offensiveness. At this point the doubted fact of the general resurrection is brought to proof by a more manifest miracle; for one is not raised from severe sickness, nor brought back to life when at the last breath — nor is a child just dead brought to life, nor a young man about to be conveyed to the tomb released from his bier; but a man past the prime of life, a corpse, decaying, swollen, yea already in a state of dissolution, so that even his own kinsfolk could not suffer that the Lord should draw near the tomb by reason of the offensiveness of the decayed body there enclosed, brought into life by a single call, confirms the proclamation of the resurrection, that is to say, that expectation of it as universal, which we learn by a particular experience to entertain. For as in the regeneration of the universe the Apostle tells us that the Lord Himself will descend with a shout, with the voice of the archangel 1 Thessalonians 4:16, and by a trumpet sound raise up the dead to incorruption — so now too he who is in the tomb, at the voice of command, shakes off death as if it were a sleep, and ridding himself from the corruption that had come upon his condition of a corpse, leaps forth from the tomb whole and sound, not even hindered in his egress by the bonds of the grave-cloths round his feet and hands.

Are these things too insignificant to produce faith in the resurrection of the dead? Or do you need your judgment on this point to be confirmed by still more proofs? Truly the Lord seems to me not to have spoken in vain to the people of Capernaum when He said to Himself, as if speaking in the voice of human beings, "You will surely say to me this proverb, 'Physician, heal yourself.'" For it was necessary for Him, after He had accustomed people to the miracle of the resurrection in other bodies, to confirm His word in His own humanity. You saw the proclaimed miracle working in others—those who were about to die, the child who had just stopped living, the young man at the edge of the grave, the decaying corpse, all alike restored to life by one command. Do you look for those who have come to death by wounds and bloodshed? Does any weakness of life-giving power limit the grace in them? Look at Him whose hands were pierced with nails; look at Him whose side was pierced with a spear; pass your fingers through the mark of the nails; thrust your hand into the spear-wound; you can surely estimate how far inside the point likely reached if you calculate the inward passage by the width of the external scar; for the wound that admits a man's hand shows to what depth within the iron penetrated. If He then has been raised, we may well speak the Apostle's exclamation, "How do some say that there is no resurrection of the dead?"

12. Are these things too small to produce faith in the resurrection of the dead? Or do you seek that your judgment on this point should be confirmed by yet other proofs? In truth the Lord seems to me not to have spoken in vain to them of Capernaum, when He said to Himself, as in the person of men, You will surely say unto me this proverb, 'Physician, heal yourself. ' For it behooved Him, when He had accustomed men to the miracle of the resurrection in other bodies, to confirm His word in His own humanity. You saw the thing proclaimed working in others — those who were about to die, the child which had just ceased to live, the young man at the edge of the grave, the putrefying corpse, all alike restored by one command to life. Do you seek for those who have come to death by wounds and bloodshed? Does any feebleness of life-giving power hinder the grace in them? Behold Him Whose hands were pierced with nails: behold Him Whose side was transfixed with a spear; pass your fingers through the print of the nails; thrust your hand into the spear-wound; you can surely guess how far within it is likely the point would reach, if you reckon the passage inwards by the breadth of the external scar; for the wound that gives admission to a man's hand, shows to what depth within the iron entered. If He then has been raised, well may we utter the Apostle's exclamation, How say some that there is no resurrection of the dead 1 Corinthians 15:12?

Since every prediction of the Lord is shown to be true by the testimony of events, and we have not only learned this through His words but also received proof of the promise in action from those very persons who returned to life by resurrection, what reason is left for those who disbelieve? Should we not say farewell to those who corrupt our simple faith through philosophy and empty deception (Colossians 2:8), and hold firmly to our confession in its purity, learning briefly through the prophet the manner of this grace by his words: "You shall take away their breath and they shall fail, and turn to their dust. You shall send forth Your Spirit and they shall be created, and You shall renew the face of the earth"? At that time he also says that the Lord rejoices in His works, now that sinners have perished from the earth—for how can anyone be called by the name of sin when sin itself no longer exists?

13. Since, then, every prediction of the Lord is shown to be true by the testimony of events, while we not only have learned this by His words, but also received the proof of the promise in deed, from those very persons who returned to life by resurrection, what occasion is left to those who disbelieve? Shall we not bid farewell to those who pervert our simple faith by philosophy and vain deceit Colossians 2:8, and hold fast to our confession in its purity, learning briefly through the prophet the mode of the grace, by his words, You shall take away their breath and they shall fail, and turn to their dust. You shall send forth Your Spirit and they shall be created, and You shall renew the face of the earth; at which time also he says that the Lord rejoices in His works, sinners having perished from the earth: for how shall any one be called by the name of sin, when sin itself exists no longer?

There are, however, some people who, because of the weakness of human reasoning and judging Divine power by the limits of our own, insist that what is beyond our capacity is not possible even for God. They point to the disappearance of those who died long ago, and to the remains of those who have been burned to ashes by fire. Beyond these examples, they also bring up in theory the flesh-eating beasts, and the fish that takes into its own body the flesh of a shipwrecked sailor, which then in turn becomes food for humans and passes through digestion into the body mass of the person who eats it. They recite many such trivial objections, unworthy of God's great power and authority, in order to undermine the doctrine, arguing as if God were not able to restore to a person what is his own by reversing the same processes.

1. There are, however, some who, owing to the feebleness of human reasoning, judging the Divine power by the compass of our own, maintain that what is beyond our capacity is not possible even to God. They point to the disappearance of the dead of old time, and to the remains of those who have been reduced to ashes by fire; and further, besides these, they bring forward in idea the carnivorous beasts, and the fish that receives in its own body the flesh of the shipwrecked sailor, while this again in turn becomes food for men, and passes by digestion into the bulk of him who eats it: and they rehearse many such trivialities, unworthy of God's great power and authority, for the overthrow of the doctrine, arguing as though God were not able to restore to man his own, by return through the same ways.

We can briefly cut through their long and convoluted chains of foolish reasoning by acknowledging that the body does dissolve into its component parts. Not only does earth return to earth according to the divine word, but air and moisture also return to their kindred elements, and each of our components goes back to the nature with which it belongs. Even if the human body is scattered among meat-eating birds, or among the most savage beasts by becoming their food, or passes through the teeth of fish, or is changed by fire into vapor and dust—wherever you might theoretically suppose a person to be dispersed—he surely remains within the world. And the voice of inspired Scripture tells us that the world is held by the hand of God. If you are not ignorant of anything in your own hand, do you really think God's knowledge is weaker than your own power, so that it would fail to discover even the tiniest things that are within the grasp of the divine hand?

2. But we briefly cut short their long circuits of logical folly by acknowledging that dissolution of the body into its component parts does take place, and not only does earth, according to the Divine word, return to earth, but air and moisture also revert to the kindred element, and there takes place a return of each of our components to that nature to which it is allied; and although the human body be dispersed among carnivorous birds, or among the most savage beasts by becoming their food, and although it pass beneath the teeth of fish, and although it be changed by fire into vapour and dust, wheresoever one may in argument suppose the man to be removed, he surely remains in the world; and the world, the voice of inspiration tells us, is held by the hand of God. If you, then, are not ignorant of any of the things in your hand, do you deem the knowledge of God to be feebler than your own power, that it should fail to discover the most minute of the things that are within the compass of the Divine span?

You may think, when you consider the elements of the universe, that it is difficult—after the air in us has been dissolved back into its kindred element, and the warmth, moisture, and earthy nature have likewise been mixed with their own kind—for what belongs to each individual to return to that person from the common source.

1. Yet it may be you think, having regard to the elements of the universe, that it is a hard thing when the air in us has been resolved into its kindred element, and the warmth, and moisture, and the earthy nature have likewise been mingled with their own kind, that from the common source there should return to the individual what belongs to itself.

Do you not then judge by human examples that even this does not surpass the limits of divine power? You have surely seen somewhere among human dwellings a common herd of some kind of animals collected from every quarter, yet when it is again divided among its owners, familiarity with their homes and the marks put on the cattle serve to restore to each his own. If you think of yourself in a similar way, you will not be far from the right understanding. For just as the soul is disposed to cling to and long for the body that has been wedded to it, there also attaches to it in secret a certain close relationship and power of recognition, because of their being mixed together, as though some marks had been imprinted by nature, by means of which the community remains unconfused, separated by the distinctive signs. Now since the soul attracts again to itself that which is its own and properly belongs to it, what difficulty, I ask you, involved in this process for divine power could prevent kindred things from coming together when they are urged to their own place by the unspeakable attraction of nature, whatever it may be? For that some signs of our compound nature remain in the soul even after dissolution is shown by the dialogue in Hades, where the bodies had been conveyed to the tomb, but some bodily token still remained in the souls by which both Lazarus was recognized and the rich man was not unknown.

2. Do you not then judge by human examples that even this does not surpass the limits of the Divine power? You have seen surely somewhere among the habitations of men a common herd of some kind of animals collected from every quarter: yet when it is again divided among its owners, acquaintance with their homes and the marks put upon the cattle serve to restore to each his own. If you conceive of yourself also something like to this, you will not be far from the right way: for as the soul is disposed to cling to and long for the body that has been wedded to it, there also attaches to it in secret a certain close relationship and power of recognition, in virtue of their commixture, as though some marks had been imprinted by nature, by the aid of which the community remains unconfused, separated by the distinctive signs. Now as the soul attracts again to itself that which is its own and properly belongs to it, what labour, I pray you, that is involved for the Divine power, could be a hindrance to concourse of kindred things when they are urged to their own place by the unspeakable attraction of nature, whatever it may be? For that some signs of our compound nature remain in the soul even after dissolution is shown by the dialogue in Hades Luke 16:24-31, where the bodies had been conveyed to the tomb, but some bodily token still remained in the souls by which both Lazarus was recognized and the rich man was not unknown.

There is nothing improbable, then, about believing that in the bodies that rise again there will be a return from the common stock to each individual—especially for anyone who examines our nature carefully. Our being does not consist entirely of flux and change, for surely anything that had no stability by nature would be completely incomprehensible. Rather, according to a more precise account, one of our constituent parts remains stationary while the rest undergoes a process of change. The body is altered through growth and shrinkage, changing like clothing through the successive stages of its development, while the form, on the other hand, remains unchanged through every alteration. It does not vary from the distinctive marks that nature once imposed on it, but appears with its own identifying characteristics in all the changes the body undergoes.

3. There is therefore nothing beyond probability in believing that in the bodies that rise again there will be a return from the common stock to the individual, especially for any one who examines our nature with careful attention. For neither does our being consist altogether in flux and change — for surely that which had by nature no stability would be absolutely incomprehensible — but according to the more accurate statement some one of our constituent parts is stationary while the rest goes through a process of alteration: for the body is on the one hand altered by way of growth and diminution, changing, like garments, the vesture of its successive statures, while the form, on the other hand, remains in itself unaltered through every change, not varying from the marks once imposed upon it by nature, but appearing with its own tokens of identity in all the changes which the body undergoes.

We must make an exception to this statement, however, for the change that happens to the physical form as a result of disease. The deformity caused by sickness takes hold of the form like some foreign mask, and when this is removed by the word—as in the case of Naaman the Syrian or those whose stories are recorded in the Gospel—the form that had been hidden by disease is once again restored to sight through health, with its own identifying marks.

4. We must except, however, from this statement the change which happens to the form as the result of disease: for the deformity of sickness takes possession of the form like some strange mask, and when this is removed by the word, as in the case of Naaman the Syrian, or of those whose story is recorded in the Gospel, the form that had been hidden by disease is once more by means of health restored to sight again with its own marks of identity.

Now, the element of our soul that is made in the likeness of God is not the part subject to flux and change through alteration, but rather the stable and unchangeable element in our makeup is what is related to God. Since different combinations produce different forms (and combination is simply the mixture of elements—by elements we mean those that provide the foundation for making the universe, from which the human body is also composed), the form necessarily remains in the soul like an impression in a seal. Those things that have received from the seal the mark of its stamp are not missed by the soul. At the time of the World-Reformation, the soul receives back to itself everything that matches the stamp of the form. Surely everything would match that was originally stamped by the form in the beginning. Thus it is entirely probable that what properly belongs to each individual should return to that person from the common source.

5. Now to the element of our soul which is in the likeness of God it is not that which is subject to flux and change by way of alteration, but this stable and unalterable element in our composition that is allied: and since various differences of combination produce varieties of forms (and combination is nothing else than the mixture of the elements — by elements we mean those which furnish the substratum for the making of the universe, of which the human body also is composed), while the form necessarily remains in the soul as in the impression of a seal, those things which have received from the seal the impression of its stamp do not fail to be recognized by the soul, but at the time of the World-Reformation, it receives back to itself all those things which correspond to the stamp of the form: and surely all those things would so correspond which in the beginning were stamped by the form; thus it is not beyond probability that what properly belongs to the individual should once more return to it from the common source.

It is also said that quicksilver, if poured out from its container down a dusty slope, forms small droplets and scatters itself across the ground, mixing with none of the substances it encounters. But if someone gathers together the material that has been dispersed in many directions, it flows back to its own kind, as long as nothing prevents it from mixing with what is like itself. I think we should understand something similar about the composite physis of man: if only God gave it the power, the proper parts would spontaneously reunite with those that belong to them, without any obstacle arising on their account to the One who restores their nature.

6. It is said also that quicksilver, if poured out from the vessel that contains it down a dusty slope, forms small globules and scatters itself over the ground, mingling with none of those bodies with which it meets: but if one should collect at one place the substance dispersed in many directions, it flows back to its kindred substance, if not hindered by anything intervening from mixing with its own kind. Something of the same sort, I think, we ought to understand also of the composite nature of man, that if only the power were given it of God, the proper parts would spontaneously unite with those belonging to them, without any obstruction on their account arising to Him Who reforms their nature.

Furthermore, in the case of plants that grow from the ground, we do not see nature expending any labor on wheat or millet or any other grain or legume seed in transforming it into stalk or head or ears. The appropriate nourishment passes spontaneously, without effort, from the common source to the individual nature of each seed. So if the moisture supplied to all plants is common, yet each plant that is nourished by it draws the proper supply for its own growth, what is strange about the teaching of the resurrection working the same way? Just as with seeds, each person who rises attracts what belongs to himself.

7. Furthermore, in the case of plants that grow from the ground, we do not observe any labour on the part of nature spent on the wheat or millet or any other seed of grain or pulse, in changing it into stalk or spike or ears; for the proper nourishment passes spontaneously, without trouble, from the common source to the individuality of each of the seeds. If, then, while the moisture supplied to all the plants is common, each of those plants which is nourished by it draws the due supply for its own growth, what new thing is it if in the doctrine of the resurrection also, as in the case of the seeds, it happens that there is an attraction on the part of each of those who rise, of what belongs to himself?

We can learn from every side that the preaching of the resurrection contains nothing beyond those facts which we already know from our own experience.

8. So that we may learn on all hands, that the preaching of the resurrection contains nothing beyond those facts which are known to us experimentally.

And yet we have said nothing of the most remarkable point about ourselves — I mean the first beginning of our existence. Who does not know the miracle of nature, what the maternal womb receives and what it produces? You see how what is implanted in the womb as the beginning of the body's formation is in a way simple and uniform. But what words can express the variety of the composite body that is formed? And who, if he did not learn such a thing from nature in general, would think possible what actually does take place — that this small and insignificant thing is the beginning of something so great? Great, I say, not only with regard to the bodily formation, but also with regard to what is more marvelous than this: I mean the soul itself and the qualities we see in it.

9. And yet we have said nothing of the most notable point concerning ourselves; I mean the first beginning of our existence. Who knows not the miracle of nature, what the maternal womb receives — what it produces? You see how that which is implanted in the womb to be the beginning of the formation of the body is in a manner simple and homogeneous: but what language can express the variety of the composite body that is framed? And who, if he did not learn such a thing in nature generally, would think that to be possible which does take place — that that small thing of no account is the beginning of a thing so great? Great, I say, not only with regard to the bodily formation, but to what is more marvellous than this, I mean the soul itself, and the attributes we behold in it.

It may be relevant to our current topic to address the question that has been raised in the churches concerning soul and body. Some of those who came before us and have dealt with the question of first principles believe it is right to say that souls exist beforehand as a people in their own society, and that among them there are also standards of vice and virtue. They claim that the soul which remains in goodness there stays without experiencing union with the body, but if it falls away from communion with good, it descends to this lower life and thus comes to be in a body. Others, however, point to the order of man's creation as described by Moses and say that the soul is second to the body in time, since God first took dust from the earth and formed man, and then gave life to this formed being through His breath. Using this argument, they try to prove that the flesh is nobler than the soul—that what was formed first is nobler than what was breathed into it afterward. They claim the soul was made for the body so that the formed thing would not be without breath and motion, and that whatever is made for something else is surely less valuable than that for which it is made. They cite the Gospel's teaching that the soul is more than food and the body than clothing, because the latter exist for the sake of the former—for the soul was not made for food nor our bodies for clothing, but when the former already existed, the latter were provided for their needs.

1. For it is perhaps not beyond our present subject to discuss the question which has been raised in the churches touching soul and body. Some of those before our time who have dealt with the question of principles think it right to say that souls have a previous existence as a people in a society of their own, and that among them also there are standards of vice and of virtue, and that the soul there, which abides in goodness, remains without experience of conjunction with the body; but if it does depart from its communion with good, it falls down to this lower life, and so comes to be in a body. Others, on the contrary, marking the order of the making of man as stated by Moses, say, that the soul is second to the body in order of time, since God first took dust from the earth and formed man, and then animated the being thus formed by His breath: and by this argument they prove that the flesh is more noble than the soul; that which was previously formed than that which was afterwards infused into it: for they say that the soul was made for the body, that the thing formed might not be without breath and motion; and that everything that is made for something else is surely less precious than that for which it is made, as the Gospel tells us that the soul is more than meat and the body than raiment, because the latter things exist for the sake of the former — for the soul was not made for meat nor our bodies for raiment, but when the former things were already in being the latter were provided for their needs.

Since the teaching found in both of these theories is problematic—both the teaching of those who attribute to souls a mythical pre-existence in a distinct condition, and of those who think souls were created later than the bodies—it is perhaps necessary not to leave any of the statements contained in these teachings without examination. Yet to fully engage with and contend against the teachings on each side, and to expose all the logical absurdities involved in these theories, would require a large amount of both argumentation and time. However, we will briefly review each of the views mentioned as well as we can, and then return to our main topic.

2. Since then the doctrine involved in both these theories is open to criticism — the doctrine alike of those who ascribe to souls a fabulous pre- existence in a special state, and of those who think they were created at a later time than the bodies, it is perhaps necessary to leave none of the statements contained in the doctrines without examination: yet to engage and wrestle with the doctrines on each side completely, and to reveal all the absurdities involved in the theories, would need a large expenditure both of argument and of time; we shall, however, briefly survey as best we can each of the views mentioned, and then resume our subject.

Those who support the former doctrine and claim that souls exist before their life in the flesh do not seem to me to be free from the mythical teachings of the pagans concerning successive reincarnations. If someone examines this carefully, he will find that their doctrine necessarily leads to this conclusion. They tell us that one of their philosophers said that he, being one and the same person, was born as a man, then took the form of a woman, flew about with birds, grew as a bush, and lived the life of a water creature. The person who said these things about himself was not far from the truth, in my judgment. For such teachings—claiming that one soul passed through so many transformations—are truly fitting for the chattering of frogs or jackdaws, the foolishness of fish, or the insensibility of trees.

3. Those who stand by the former doctrine, and assert that the state of souls is prior to their life in the flesh, do not seem to me to be clear from the fabulous doctrines of the heathen which they hold on the subject of successive incorporation: for if one should search carefully, he will find that their doctrine is of necessity brought down to this. They tell us that one of their sages said that he, being one and the same person, was born a man, and afterwards assumed the form of a woman, and flew about with the birds, and grew as a bush, and obtained the life of an aquatic creature — and he who said these things of himself did not, so far as I can judge, go far from the truth: for such doctrines as this of saying that one soul passed through so many changes are really fitting for the chatter of frogs or jackdaws, or the stupidity of fishes, or the insensibility of trees.

The cause of such absurdity is this: the assumption that souls existed before bodies. The first principle of this doctrine leads the argument step by step to the next connected stage, until it astounds us by arriving at this point. For if the soul, having been separated from its more elevated state by some wickedness after having once (as they say) tasted bodily life, becomes human again, and if life in the flesh is (as may reasonably be acknowledged) more prone to passion when compared to eternal and incorporeal life, it naturally follows that what comes to exist in a life containing more opportunities for sin is both placed in a realm of greater wickedness and made more prone to passion than before. Now passion in the human soul is a conformity to the likeness of the irrational. Being brought into close connection with this, the soul descends to the nature of brute animals. And once it has set out on its journey through wickedness, it does not stop its advance toward evil even when found in an irrational condition, because a halt in evil is the beginning of movement toward virtue, and virtue does not exist in irrational creatures. Thus the soul will necessarily be continually changed for the worse, always moving toward what is more degraded and always discovering what is worse than the nature it currently inhabits. And just as sensible nature is lower than rational nature, so too there is a descent from this to the insensible.

4. And of such absurdity the cause is this — the supposition of the pre- existence of souls for the first principle of such doctrine leads on the argument by consequence to the next and adjacent stage, until it astonishes us by reaching this point. For if the soul, being severed from the more exalted state by some wickedness after having once, as they say, tasted corporeal life, again becomes a man, and if the life in the flesh is, as may be presumed, acknowledged to be, in comparison with the eternal and incorporeal life, more subject to passion, it naturally follows that that which comes to be in a life such as to contain more occasions of sin, is both placed in a region of greater wickedness and rendered more subject to passion than before (now passion in the human soul is a conformity to the likeness of the irrational); and that being brought into close connection with this, it descends to the brute nature: and that when it has once set out on its way through wickedness, it does not cease its advance towards evil even when found in an irrational condition: for a halt in evil is the beginning of the impulse towards virtue, and in irrational creatures virtue does not exist. Thus it will of necessity be continually changed for the worse, always proceeding to what is more degraded and always finding out what is worse than the nature in which it is: and just as the sensible nature is lower than the rational, so too there is a descent from this to the insensible.

Up to this point, their teaching, even though it goes beyond the truth, at least derives one absurdity from another through a kind of logical sequence. But from here onward their teaching becomes incoherent fable. Strict logical inference points to the complete destruction of the soul, because what has once fallen from the exalted state will be unable to stop at any measure of wickedness. Instead, it will pass through its connection with the passions from rational to irrational, and from that state will be transferred to the insensibility of plants. Next to the insensible lies, so to speak, the inanimate, and after this follows the non-existent. So by this line of reasoning they would have the soul pass into nothing, making a return to the better state impossible for it. Yet they claim the soul returns from a bush to a human being. Therefore they prove that life in a bush is more precious than an incorporeal state.

5. Now so far in its course their doctrine, even if it does overstep the bounds of truth, at all events derives one absurdity from another by a kind of logical sequence: but from this point onwards their teaching takes the form of incoherent fable. Strict inference points to the complete destruction of the soul; for that which has once fallen from the exalted state will be unable to halt at any measure of wickedness, but will pass by means of its relation with the passions from rational to irrational, and from the latter state will be transferred to the insensibility of plants; and on the insensible there borders, so to say, the inanimate; and on this again follows the non-existent, so that absolutely by this train of reasoning they will have the soul to pass into nothing: thus a return once more to the better state is impossible for it: and yet they make the soul return from a bush to the man: they therefore prove that the life in a bush is more precious than an incorporeal state.

It has been shown that the process of deterioration happening in the soul will probably continue downward; and below the insensible we find the inanimate, which means their doctrine logically leads the soul to that level. But since they won't accept this, they either exclude the soul from insensibility, or, if they want to bring it back to human life, they must—as already stated—declare the life of a tree to be better than the original state. This would be necessary if the fall toward vice happened from the original state, while the return toward virtue happens from the state of a tree.

6. It has been shown that the process of deterioration which takes place in the soul will probably be extended downwards; and lower than the insensible we find the inanimate, to which, by consequence, the principle of their doctrine brings the soul: but as they will not have this, they either exclude the soul from insensibility, or, if they are to bring it back to human life, they must, as has been said, declare the life of a tree to be preferable to the original state — if, that is, the fall towards vice took place from the one, and the return towards virtue takes place from the other.

Thus their doctrine, which claims that souls have a life by themselves before their life in the flesh and that they are bound to their bodies because of wickedness, is shown to have neither beginning nor conclusion. As for those who assert that the soul is created later than the body, their absurdity was already demonstrated above.

7. Thus this doctrine of theirs, which maintains that souls have a life by themselves before their life in the flesh, and that they are by reason of wickedness bound to their bodies, is shown to have neither beginning nor conclusion: and as for those who assert that the soul is of later creation than the body, their absurdity was already demonstrated above.

The teaching of both groups, then, should be equally rejected. But I think we ought to direct our own teaching toward the truth between these theories. This teaching is that we should not suppose, according to the error of the pagans, that souls revolving with the motion of the universe, weighed down by some wickedness, fall to earth because they cannot keep up with the speed of the rotating spheres.

8. The doctrine of both, then, is equally to be rejected; but I think that we ought to direct our own doctrine in the way of truth between these theories: and this doctrine is that we are not to suppose, according to the error of the heathen that the souls that revolve with the motion of the universe weighed down by some wickedness, fall to earth by inability to keep up with the swiftness of the motion of the spheres.

Nor should we begin our teaching by constructing man like a clay figure and saying that the soul came into being for the sake of this, for surely in that case the intellectual nature would be shown to be less valuable than the clay figure. Instead, since man is one being consisting of soul and body, we must suppose that the beginning of his existence is one and common to both parts, so that he should not be found to be both before and after himself—as would happen if the bodily element came first in time and the other were added later. Rather, we should say that in the power of God's foreknowledge (according to the teaching set out a little earlier in our discussion), the entire fullness of human nature had pre-existence (and the prophetic writing bears witness to this when it says that God knows all things before they come to be), and in the creation of individuals we should not place one element before the other—neither the soul before the body nor the opposite—so that man may not be in conflict with himself by being divided through a difference in time.

1. Nor again are we in our doctrine to begin by making up man like a clay figure, and to say that the soul came into being for the sake of this; for surely in that case the intellectual nature would be shown to be less precious than the clay figure. But as man is one, the being consisting of soul and body, we are to suppose that the beginning of his existence is one, common to both parts, so that he should not be found to be antecedent and posterior to himself, if the bodily element were first in point of time, and the other were a later addition; but we are to say that in the power of God's foreknowledge (according to the doctrine laid down a little earlier in our discourse), all the fullness of human nature had pre- existence (and to this the prophetic writing bears witness, which says that God knows all things before they be), and in the creation of individuals not to place the one element before the other, neither the soul before the body, nor the contrary, that man may not be at strife against himself, by being divided by the difference in point of time.

Since our nature is understood as twofold according to apostolic teaching—composed of the visible man and the hidden man—if one part came into existence first and the other was added later, the power of the One who made us would appear somehow imperfect, as if He were not completely capable of accomplishing the entire work at once but instead had to divide the task and occupy Himself with each of the two parts separately.

2. For as our nature is conceived as twofold, according to the apostolic teaching, made up of the visible man and the hidden man, if the one came first and the other supervened, the power of Him that made us will be shown to be in some way imperfect, as not being completely sufficient for the whole task at once, but dividing the work, and busying itself with each of the halves in turn.

But just as we say that in wheat, or in any other grain, the whole form of the plant is potentially included—the leaves, the stalk, the joints, the grain, the beard—and we do not say in our description of its physis that any of these parts pre-exists or comes into being before the others, but rather that the power residing in the seed is revealed in a certain natural order, not at all by another physis being added to it—in the same way we understand the human embryo to possess the potentiality of its physis, planted with it at the very first moment of its existence, and that it unfolds and becomes visible through a natural sequence as it moves toward its complete state, not using anything outside itself as a stepping-stone to perfection, but itself advancing its own self in proper order to the perfect state. Therefore it is not correct to say either that the soul exists before the body, or that the body exists without the soul, but rather that there is one beginning of both, which according to the heavenly perspective was established as their foundation in the original will of God, and according to the other perspective, came into existence at the moment of conception.

3. But just as we say that in wheat, or in any other grain, the whole form of the plant is potentially included — the leaves, the stalk, the joints, the grain, the beard — and do not say in our account of its nature that any of these things has pre- existence, or comes into being before the others, but that the power abiding in the seed is manifested in a certain natural order, not by any means that another nature is infused into it — in the same way we suppose the human germ to possess the potentiality of its nature, sown with it at the first start of its existence, and that it is unfolded and manifested by a natural sequence as it proceeds to its perfect state, not employing anything external to itself as a stepping-stone to perfection, but itself advancing its own self in due course to the perfect state; so that it is not true to say either that the soul exists before the body, or that the body exists without the soul, but that there is one beginning of both, which according to the heavenly view was laid as their foundation in the original will of God; according to the other, came into existence on the occasion of generation.

Just as we cannot see the distinct limbs in what is implanted for the body's conception before it begins to take shape, so neither is it possible to perceive the properties of the soul in the same thing before they come into operation. And just as no one would doubt that this implanted thing is formed into the different varieties of limbs and internal organs not by some other power being brought in from outside, but by the power residing within it that transforms it into this active manifestation, so also we may by similar reasoning equally suppose in the case of the soul that even if it is not visibly recognized by any manifestations of activity, it is nonetheless present there. For even the form of the future human being is there potentially, but remains hidden because it cannot be made visible before the necessary sequence of events permits it. In the same way, the soul is present even though it is not visible, and it will be manifested through its own proper and natural operation as it develops together with the body's growth.

4. For as we cannot discern the articulation of the limbs in that which is implanted for the conception of the body before it begins to take form, so neither is it possible to perceive in the same the properties of the soul before they advance to operation; and just as no one would doubt that the thing so implanted is fashioned into the different varieties of limbs and interior organs, not by the importation of any other power from without, but by the power which resides in it transforming it to this manifestation of energy — so also we may by like reasoning equally suppose in the case of the soul that even if it is not visibly recognized by any manifestations of activity it none the less is there; for even the form of the future man is there potentially, but is concealed because it is not possible that it should be made visible before the necessary sequence of events allows it; so also the soul is there, even though it is not visible, and will be manifested by means of its own proper and natural operation, as it advances concurrently with the bodily growth.

Since the potentiality for conception is not secreted from a dead body, but from one that is animate and alive, we therefore affirm that it is reasonable not to suppose that what is sent forth from a living body to be the occasion of life is itself dead and inanimate. For in the flesh, what is inanimate is surely dead, and the condition of death arises through the withdrawal of the soul. Would someone not be asserting that withdrawal comes before possession if he maintains that the inanimate state, which is the condition of death, comes before the soul? And if anyone seeks clearer evidence of the life of that particle which becomes the beginning of the living creature as it forms, it is possible to gain understanding on this point from other signs as well, by which what is animate is distinguished from what is dead. For in the case of human beings, we consider it evidence of life that one is warm, operative, and in motion, but the chill and motionless state in bodies is nothing other than death.

5. For since it is not from a dead body that the potentiality for conception is secreted, but from one which is animate and alive, we hence affirm that it is reasonable that we should not suppose that what is sent forth from a living body to be the occasion of life is itself dead and inanimate; for in the flesh that which is inanimate is surely dead; and the condition of death arises by the withdrawal of the soul. Would not one therefore in this case be asserting that withdrawal is antecedent to possession — if, that is, he should maintain that the inanimate state which is the condition of death is antecedent to the soul? And if any one should seek for a still clearer evidence of the life of that particle which becomes the beginning of the living creature in its formation, it is possible to obtain an idea on this point from other signs also, by which what is animate is distinguished from what is dead. For in the case of men we consider it an evidence of life that one is warm and operative and in motion, but the chill and motionless state in the case of bodies is nothing else than deadness.

Since we observe that what we are discussing is warm and active, we conclude from this that it is not inanimate. Just as, regarding its bodily part, we do not say that it is already flesh, bones, hair, and everything else we observe in the human being, but rather that it is potentially each of these things, though it does not yet visibly appear to be so—in the same way, regarding the part that belongs to the soul, the elements of rationality, desire, anger, and all the powers of the soul are not yet visible. Yet we maintain that they are present in it, and that the energies of the soul also develop along with the subject in a manner similar to the formation and perfection of the body.

6. Since then we see that of which we are speaking to be warm and operative, we thereby draw the further inference that it is not inanimate; but as, in respect of its corporeal part, we do not say that it is flesh, and bones, and hair, and all that we observe in the human being, but that potentially it is each of these things, yet does not visibly appear to be so; so also of the part which belongs to the soul, the elements of rationality, and desire, and anger, and all the powers of the soul are not yet visible; yet we assert that they have their place in it, and that the energies of the soul also grow with the subject in a manner similar to the formation and perfection of the body.

Just as a fully developed person has a distinct activity of the soul, so at the beginning of his existence he demonstrates in himself the cooperation of the soul that is suitable and fitting for his present need—as the soul prepares for itself its proper dwelling place by means of the implanted matter. For we do not think it possible that the soul is adapted to a foreign building, just as it is not possible for a seal impressed on wax to fit an engraving that does not match it.

7. For just as a man when perfectly developed has a specially marked activity of the soul, so at the beginning of his existence he shows in himself that co-operation of the soul which is suitable and conformable to his existing need, in its preparing for itself its proper dwelling-place by means of the implanted matter; for we do not suppose it possible that the soul is adapted to a strange building, just as it is not possible that the seal impressed on wax should be fitted to an engraving that does not agree with it.

As the body develops from a very small beginning to its complete state, the operation of the soul likewise grows in correspondence with the subject, gaining and increasing along with it. At the first formation, only the soul's power of growth and nourishment comes first, like a root buried in the ground, since the limited nature of what receives it does not admit more. Then, as the plant emerges into the light and shows its shoot to the sun, the gift of sensibility blossoms in addition. But when at last it has matured and grown to its proper height, the power of reason begins to shine forth like fruit—not appearing in its full strength all at once, but through care increasing as the instrument reaches perfection, always bearing as much fruit as the powers of the subject permit.

8. For as the body proceeds from a very small original to the perfect state, so also the operation of the soul, growing in correspondence with the subject, gains and increases with it. For at its first formation there comes first of all its power of growth and nutriment alone, as though it were some root buried in the ground; for the limited nature of the recipient does not admit of more; then, as the plant comes forth to the light and shows its shoot to the sun, the gift of sensibility blossoms in addition, but when at last it is ripened and has grown up to its proper height, the power of reason begins to shine forth like a fruit, not appearing in its whole vigour all at once, but by care increasing with the perfection of the instrument, bearing always as much fruit as the powers of the subject allow.

If, however, you try to trace the operation of the soul in the formation of the body, take heed to yourself, as Moses says, and you will read, as in a book, the history of the works of the soul. For nature itself explains to you, more clearly than any words, the varied activities of the soul in the body, both in general and in particular acts of construction.

9. If, however, you seek to trace the operation of the soul in the formation of the body, take heed to yourself Deuteronomy 4:23, as Moses says, and you will read, as in a book, the history of the works of the soul; for nature itself expounds to you, more clearly than any discourse, the varied occupations of the soul in the body, alike in general and in particular acts of construction.

But I consider it unnecessary to explain at length in words what can be found within ourselves, as if we were describing some marvel that lies outside our own boundaries. Who that looks at himself needs words to teach him his own nature? For it is possible for someone who considers the manner of his own life, and learns how closely the body is involved in every vital operation, to know what the vegetative principle of the soul was doing at the time of the first formation of what was beginning to exist. From this it is also clear to those who have given any attention to the matter that the thing which was implanted by separation from the living body for the production of the living being was not something dead or lifeless in the workshop of nature.

10. But I deem it superfluous to declare at length in words what is to be found in ourselves, as though we were expounding some wonder that lay beyond our boundaries:– who that looks on himself needs words to teach him his own nature? For it is possible for one who considers the mode of his own life, and learns how closely concerned the body is in every vital operation, to know in what the vegetative principle of the soul was occupied on the occasion of the first formation of that which was beginning its existence; so that hereby also it is clear to those who have given any attention to the matter, that the thing which was implanted by separation from the living body for the production of the living being was not a thing dead or inanimate in the laboratory of nature.

Moreover, we plant fruit seeds and pieces torn from roots in the ground. These are not deprived by death of the vital power that naturally resides in them, but they preserve in themselves—hidden, yet certainly living—the property of their prototype. The earth surrounding them does not implant such power from outside, infusing it from itself (for surely then even dead wood would grow), but it makes visible what already resides in them, nourishing it by its own moisture and perfecting the plant into root, bark, pith, and shoots of branches. This could not happen unless a natural power were implanted with it, which draws to itself from its surroundings its kindred and proper nourishment and becomes a bush, a tree, an ear of grain, or some plant of the shrub class.

11. Moreover we plant in the ground the kernels of fruits, and portions torn from roots, not deprived by death of the vital power which naturally resides in them, but preserving in themselves, hidden indeed, yet surely living, the property of their prototype; the earth that surrounds them does not implant such a power from without, infusing it from itself (for surely then even dead wood would proceed to growth), but it makes that manifest which resides in them, nourishing it by its own moisture, perfecting the plant into root, and bark, and pith, and shoots of branches, which could not happen were not a natural power implanted with it, which drawing to itself from its surroundings its kindred and proper nourishment, becomes a bush, or a tree, or an ear of grain, or some plant of the class of shrubs.

Now each person learns the exact structure of our body through his own experiences of sight, light, and perception, with his own nature as his teacher. Anyone can also learn everything accurately by studying the research that experts in such matters have set out in books. Some of these writers learned the position of each of our organs through dissection, while others examined and explained the reason why all the parts of the body exist. The knowledge of the human body that comes from these sources is sufficient for students. But if anyone further wants the Church to be his teacher on all these points, so that he does not need to rely on the voices of those outside the Church for anything—since this is the habit of spiritual sheep, as the Lord says, that they do not listen to a strange voice—we will briefly take up an account of these matters as well.

1. Now the exact structure of our body each man teaches himself by his experiences of sight and light and perception, having his own nature to instruct him; any one too may learn everything accurately who takes up the researches which those skilled in such matters have worked out in books. And of these writers some learned by dissection the position of our individual organs; others also considered and expounded the reason for the existence of all the parts of the body; so that the knowledge of the human frame which hence results is sufficient for students. But if any one further seeks that the Church should be his teacher on all these points, so that he may not need for anything the voice of those without (for this is the wont of the spiritual sheep, as the Lord says, that they hear not a strange voice), we shall briefly take in hand the account of these matters also.

We note three things about our bodily nature that explain why our particular parts were formed. Life is the cause of some parts, good life of others, and still others are designed for the succession of descendants. All things in us that are essential for human life to exist—without which life is impossible—we consider to fall into three categories: the brain, the heart, and the liver. Again, all that serve as additional blessings, nature's generosity through which she gives man the gift of living well, are the organs of sense. These things do not constitute our life itself, since even when some of them are missing, a person often remains alive nonetheless. However, without these faculties it is impossible to enjoy participation in the pleasures of life. The third purpose concerns the future and the continuation of life. There are also certain other organs besides these which help, together with all the others, to maintain life by supplying what is needed through their own means—such as the stomach and the lungs. The lungs fan the fire at the heart through respiration, while the stomach brings in nourishment for the internal organs.

2. We note concerning our bodily nature three things, for the sake of which our particular parts were formed. Life is the cause of some, good life of others, others again are adapted with a view to the succession of descendants. All things in us which are of such a kind that without them it is not possible that human life should exist, we consider as being in three parts; in the brain, the heart, and the liver. Again, all that are a sort of additional blessings, nature's liberality, whereby she bestows on man the gift of living well, are the organs of sense; for such things do not constitute our life, since even where some of them are wanting man is often none the less in a condition of life; but without these forms of activity it is impossible to enjoy participation in the pleasures of life. The third aim regards the future, and the succession of life. There are also certain other organs besides these, which help, in common with all the others, to subserve the continuance of life, importing by their own means the proper supplies, as the stomach and the lungs, the latter fanning by respiration the fire at the heart, the former introducing the nourishment for the internal organs.

Our structure, then, is divided in this way. We need to carefully observe that our ability to live is not sustained in one single way by any one organ. Rather, nature distributes the means for our existence among several parts, making the contribution of each individual part necessary for the whole. Similarly, the things that nature designs for the security and beauty of life are also numerous and differ greatly among themselves.

3. Our structure, then, being thus divided, we have carefully to mark that our faculty for life is not supported in any one way by some single organ, but nature, while distributing the means for our existence among several parts, makes the contribution of each individual necessary for the whole; just as the things which nature contrives for the security and beauty of life are also numerous, and differ much among themselves.

We should first discuss briefly the initial elements that contribute to the makeup of our life. As for the material of the entire body that serves as a common foundation for the individual parts, we can leave it aside for now. A general discussion about natural substance will not help us with our specific goal of examining the individual parts.

4. We ought, however, I think, first to discuss briefly the first beginnings of the things which contribute to the constitution of our life. As for the material of the whole body which serves as a common substratum for the particular members, it may for the present be left without remark; for a discussion as to natural substance in general will not be of any assistance to our purpose with regard to the consideration of the parts.

As it is acknowledged by all that we possess a share of all the elements we observe in the universe—heat and cold, as well as the other pair of qualities, moisture and dryness—we must discuss each of these individually.

5. As it is then acknowledged by all that there is in us a share of all that we behold as elements in the universe — of heat and cold, and of the other pair of qualities of moisture and dryness — we must discuss them severally.

We see that three powers control life. The first produces general warmth through its heat. The second keeps what is warmed moist through its moisture, so that the living being is maintained in an intermediate condition by the equal balance of forces exerted by each of these opposing qualities—the moist element is not dried up by too much heat, nor is the hot element quenched by too much moisture. The third power, through its own action, holds the separate bodily parts together in a certain agreement and harmony. It connects them by the bonds it provides and sends into them all that self-moving and determining force. When this force fails, the bodily part becomes relaxed and deadened, being left without the determining spirit.

6. We see then that the powers which control life are three, of which the first by its heat produces general warmth, the second by its moisture keeps damp that which is warmed, so that the living being is kept in an intermediate condition by the equal balance of the forces exerted by the quality of each of the opposing natures (the moist element not being dried up by excess of heat, nor the hot element quenched by the prevalence of moisture); and the third power by its own agency holds together the separate members in a certain agreement and harmony, connecting them by the ties which it itself furnishes, and sending into them all that self-moving and determining force, on the failure of which the member becomes relaxed and deadened, being left destitute of the determining spirit.

Before dealing with these matters, we should first observe the skilled workmanship of nature in the actual construction of the body. Since what is hard and resistant does not allow the senses to function (as we can see in our own bones, and in plants in the ground, where we observe a certain form of life in that they grow and receive nourishment, yet the resistant character of their substance does not permit sensation), it was necessary for some wax-like formation, so to speak, to be provided for the activity of the senses. This formation has the capacity to receive the imprint of things that can affect it, without becoming confused by too much moisture (since an impression would not remain in moist substance), and without resisting through excessive hardness (since what is unyielding would not receive any mark from impressions). Instead, it exists in a state between softness and hardness, so that the living being would not lack the finest of all the operations of nature—I mean the activity of sense perception.

7. Or rather, before dealing with these, it is right that we should mark the skilled workmanship of nature in the actual construction of the body. For as that which is hard and resistent does not admit the action of the senses (as we may see in the instance of our own bones, and in that of plants in the ground, where we remark indeed a certain form of life in that they grow and receive nourishment, yet the resistent character of their substance does not allow them sensation), for this reason it was necessary that some wax-like formation, so to say, should be supplied for the action of the senses, with the faculty of being impressed with the stamp of things capable of striking them, neither becoming confused by excess of moisture (for the impress would not remain in moist substance), nor resisting by extraordinary solidity (for that which is unyielding would not receive any mark from the impressions), but being in a state between softness and hardness, in order that the living being might not be destitute of the fairest of all the operations of nature — I mean the motion of sense.

Now since a soft and yielding substance, if it had no support from hard parts, would certainly have neither movement nor articulation, like molluscs, nature accordingly mixes the hardness of bones into the body. By closely connecting these bones to one another and knitting their joints together by means of sinews, nature then plants around them the flesh that receives sensations, furnished with a somewhat harder and more tightly-strung surface than it would otherwise have had.

8. Now as a soft and yielding substance, if it had no assistance from the hard parts, would certainly have, like molluscs, neither motion nor articulation, nature accordingly mingles in the body the hardness of the bones, and uniting these by close connection one to another, and knitting their joints together by means of the sinews, thus plants around them the flesh which receives sensations, furnished with a somewhat harder and more highly-strung surface than it would otherwise have had.

While resting the whole weight of the body on the bones, as on columns that support a building, nature did not make the bone run undivided through the entire structure. If she had, man would have remained without motion or activity, constructed like a tree standing in one spot, without the alternating motion of legs for walking or the use of hands for the practical needs of life. Instead, we see that she made the instrument capable of walking and working by this arrangement, having implanted in the body, through the governing spirit that extends through the nerves, the impulse and power for movement. From this comes the service of the hands, so varied and multiform, responding to every thought. From this come, as if by some mechanical device, the turning of the neck, the bending and raising of the head, the action of the jaw, the separation of the eyelids that happens at a thought, and the movements of the other joints through the tightening or relaxation of certain nerves. The power that extends through these displays a kind of independent impulse, working with the spirit of its will through a kind of natural management in each particular part. But the root of all this, and the source of the motions of the nerves, is found in the nervous tissue that surrounds the brain.

9. While resting, then, the whole weight of the body on this substance of the bones, as on some columns that carry a mass of building, she did not implant the bone undivided through the whole structure: for in that case man would have remained without motion or activity, if he had been so constructed, just like a tree that stands on one spot without either the alternate motion of legs to advance its motion or the service of hands to minister to the conveniences of life: but now we see that she contrived that the instrument should be rendered capable of walking and working by this device, after she had implanted in the body, by the determining spirit which extends through the nerves, the impulse and power for motion. And hence is produced the service of the hands, so varied and multiform, and answering to every thought. Hence are produced, as though by some mechanical contrivance, the turnings of the neck, and the bending and raising of the head, and the action of the chin, and the separation of the eyelids, that takes place with a thought, and the movements of the other joints, by the tightening or relaxation of certain nerves. And the power that extends through these exhibits a sort of independent impulse, working with the spirit of its will by a sort of natural management, in each particular part; but the root of all, and the principle of the motions of the nerves, is found in the nervous tissue that surrounds the brain.

We believe, then, that we don't need to spend more time investigating which of the vital organs contains this capacity, since the power of movement is clearly located here. But the fact that the brain contributes to life in a special way is clearly demonstrated by what happens in opposite circumstances: if the tissue surrounding it receives any wound or damage, death immediately follows the injury, since nature cannot endure the harm even for a moment. It's like when a foundation is removed and the whole building collapses along with that part. That organ, whose injury clearly results in the destruction of the entire living being, may properly be recognized as containing the cause of life.

10. We consider, then, that we need not spend more time in inquiring in which of the vital members such a thing resides, when the energy of motion is shown to be here. But that the brain contributes to life in a special degree is shown clearly by the result of the opposite conditions: for if the tissue surrounding it receives any wound or lesion, death immediately follows the injury, nature being unable to endure the hurt even for a moment; just as, when a foundation is withdrawn, the whole building collapses with the part; and that member, from an injury to which the destruction of the whole living being clearly follows, may properly be acknowledged to contain the cause of life.

But furthermore, in those who have died, when the heat that is implanted in our nature is extinguished, what has become dead grows cold. From this we recognize that heat is also a vital cause, for we must necessarily acknowledge that a living being exists by the presence of that which, when it fails, brings about the condition of death. And we understand the heart to be the fountainhead and principle of such a force, since from it pipe-like passages, growing from one another in many branches, spread the warm and fiery spirit throughout the whole body.

11. But as furthermore in those who have ceased to live, when the heat that is implanted in our nature is quenched, that which has become dead grows cold, we hence recognize the vital cause also in heat: for we must of necessity acknowledge that the living being subsists by the presence of that, which failing, the condition of death supervenes. And of such a force we understand the heart to be as it were the fountain-head and principle, as from it pipe-like passages, growing one from another in many ramifications, diffuse in the whole body the warm and fiery spirit.

And since nature must also provide some nourishment for the element of heat—for it is not possible that the fire should last by itself without being nourished by its proper food—therefore the channels of the blood, flowing from the liver as from a fountainhead, accompany the warm spirit everywhere throughout the body, so that one may not become separated from the other and turn into a disease that destroys the constitution. Let this instruct those who go beyond the bounds of fairness, as they learn from nature that covetousness is a disease that breeds destruction.

12. And since some nourishment must needs also be provided by nature for the element of heat — for it is not possible that the fire should last by itself, without being nourished by its proper food — therefore the channels of the blood, issuing from the liver as from a fountainhead, accompany the warm spirit everywhere in its way throughout the body, that the one may not by isolation from the other become a disease and destroy the constitution. Let this instruct those who go beyond the bounds of fairness, as they learn from nature that covetousness is a disease that breeds destruction.

Since only the Divine is free from need, while human poverty requires external help for its survival, nature therefore—in addition to those three powers by which we said the whole body is regulated—brings in matter from outside, introducing through different entrances what is suitable to those powers.

13. But since the Divinity alone is free from needs, while human poverty requires external aid for its own subsistence, nature therefore, in addition to those three powers by which we said that the whole body is regulated, brings in imported matter from without, introducing by different entrances that which is suitable to those powers.

For the source of the blood, which is the liver, nature provides its supply through food. What is brought in from time to time in this way enables the springs of blood to flow from the liver, just as snow on a mountain increases the springs in low ground through its own moisture, forcing its fluid deep down into the veins below.

14. For to the fount of the blood, which is the liver, she furnishes its supply by food: for that which from time to time is imported in this way prepares the springs of blood to issue from the liver, as the snow on the mountain by its own moisture increases the springs in the low ground, forcing its own fluid deep down to the veins below.

The breath in the heart is supplied by the neighboring organ called the lungs, which serves as a container for air. The lungs draw breath from outside through the windpipe that is inserted into them and extends to the mouth. The heart is positioned in the middle of this organ, and it moves constantly, imitating the action of ever-moving fire. Like bellows in a forge, the heart draws in a supply from the surrounding air, filling its chambers by expanding. While it fans its own fiery element, it breathes into the adjoining tubes. It does this continuously, drawing external air into its chambers by expanding and then pushing air from itself into the tubes by contracting.

15. The breath in the heart is supplied by means of the neighbouring organ, which is called the lungs, and is a receptacle for air, drawing the breath from without through the windpipe inserted in it, which extends to the mouth. The heart being placed in the midst of this organ (and itself also moving incessantly in imitation of the action of the ever-moving fire), draws to itself, somewhat as the bellows do in the forges, a supply from the adjacent air, filling its recesses by dilatation, and while it fans its own fiery element, breathes upon the adjoining tubes; and this it does not cease to do, drawing the external air into its own recesses by dilatation, and by compression infusing the air from itself into the tubes.

And this seems to me to be the cause of our spontaneous breathing. Often the mind is engaged in conversation with others, or is completely at rest when the body is relaxed in sleep, but the breathing of air does not stop, even though the will contributes nothing to this purpose. Now I believe that, since the heart is surrounded by the lungs and is attached to them at the back part of its own structure, it moves that organ by its own expansions and contractions, and that the breathing in and breathing out of air is brought about by the lungs. Because they are a lightly constructed and porous body, and have all their internal spaces opening at the base of the windpipe, when they contract and are compressed they necessarily force out the air remaining in their cavities by pressure. And when they expand and open, they draw air into the empty space by suction through their expansion.

16. And this seems to me to be the cause of this spontaneous respiration of ours; for often the mind is occupied in discourse with others, or is entirely quiescent when the body is relaxed in sleep, but the respiration of air does not cease, though the will gives no co-operation to this end. Now I suppose, since the heart is surrounded by the lungs, and in the back part of its own structure is attached to them, moving that organ by its own dilatations and compressions, that the inhaling and exhaling of the air is brought about by the lungs: for as they are a lightly built and porous body, and have all their recesses opening at the base of the windpipe, when they contract and are compressed they necessarily force out by pressure the air that is left in their cavities; and, when they expand and open, draw the air, by their distention, into the void by suction.

The cause of this involuntary breathing, then, is that the fiery element cannot remain still. Since the activity of motion is characteristic of heat, and we understand that the source of heat is located in the heart, the constant motion occurring in this organ produces the continual breathing in and breathing out of air through the lungs. This is also why, when the fiery element increases unnaturally, the breathing of feverish patients becomes more rapid, as if the heart were trying to extinguish the flame within it through more vigorous breathing.

17. This then is the cause of this involuntary respiration — the impossibility that the fiery element should remain at rest: for as the operation of motion is proper to heat, and we understand that the principle of heat is to be found in the heart, the continual motion going on in this organ produces the incessant inspiration and exhalation of the air through the lungs: wherefore also when the fiery element is unnaturally augmented, the breathing of those fevered subjects becomes more rapid, as though the heart were endeavouring to quench the flame implanted in it by more violent breathing.

18. But since our nature is poor and needs supplies from every direction to maintain itself, it not only lacks its own air and the breath that stimulates heat—which it brings in from outside to preserve the living being—but the nourishment it finds to fill out the body's proportions is also brought in from outside. Accordingly, it supplies this deficiency through food and drink, implanting in the body a certain faculty for taking in what it needs and rejecting what is excessive, and for this purpose too the fire of the heart gives nature no small assistance.

18. But since our nature is poor and in need of supplies for its own maintenance from all quarters, it not only lacks air of its own, and the breath which excites heat, which it imports from without for the preservation of the living being, but the nourishment it finds to fill out the proportions of the body is an importation. Accordingly, it supplies the deficiency by food and drink, implanting in the body a certain faculty for appropriating that which it requires, and rejecting that which is superfluous, and for this purpose too the fire of the heart gives nature no small assistance.

Since the heart, according to the account we have given, kindles the individual parts with its warm breath and is the most important of the vital organs, our Maker caused it to operate with its effective power at all points, so that no part of it would be left ineffective or unprofitable for regulating the whole organism. From behind, it connects to the lungs, and through its continuous motion it draws that organ toward itself, expands the passages to inhale air, and compresses them again to bring about the expiration of the trapped air. From the front, it attaches to the space at the upper end of the stomach, warms it, and makes it respond through motion to its own activity, stimulating it not to inhale air but to receive its proper food. The entrances for breath and food are near one another, extending lengthwise side by side, and they terminate at their upper end at the same boundary, so that their openings are adjacent and the passages end together in one opening, through which food enters by one passage and breath by the other.

19. For since, according to the account we have given, the heart which kindles by its warm breath the individual parts, is the most important of the vital organs, our Maker caused it to be operative with its efficacious power at all points, that no part of it might be left ineffectual or unprofitable for the regulation of the whole organism. Behind, therefore, it enters the lungs, and, by its continuous motion, drawing that organ to itself, it expands the passages to inhale the air, and compressing them again it brings about the exspiration of the imprisoned air; while in front, attached to the space at the upper extremity of the stomach, it warms it and makes it respond by motion to its own activity, rousing it, not to inhale air, but to receive its appropriate food: for the entrances for breath and food are near one another, extending lengthwise one alongside the other, and are terminated in their upper extremity by the same boundary, so that their mouths are contiguous and the passages come to an end together in one mouth, from which the entrance of food is effected through the one, and that of the breath through the other.

Internally, however, the passages are not connected closely throughout. The heart lies between the base of the two and infuses into one the powers for breathing, and into the other the powers for nutrition. Now the fiery element naturally tends to seek out the material that serves as its fuel, and this necessarily occurs with the receptacle of nourishment. The more it is penetrated by fire through the neighboring warmth, the more it draws to itself what feeds the heat. We call this kind of impulse appetite.

20. Internally, however, the closeness of the connection of the passages is not maintained throughout; for the heart intervening between the base of the two, infuses in the one the powers for respiration, and in the other for nutriment. Now the fiery element is naturally inclined to seek for the material which serves as fuel, and this necessarily happens with regard to the receptacle of nourishment; for the more it becomes penetrated by fire through the neighbouring warmth, the more it draws to itself what nourishes the heat. And this sort of impulse we call appetite.

But even when the organ that contains the food has obtained sufficient material, the activity of the fire does not become inactive. Rather, it produces a kind of melting of the material, just as happens in a foundry. Dissolving the solids, it pours them out and transfers them, as if through a funnel, to the neighboring passages. Then, separating the coarser elements from the pure substance, it passes the refined part through certain channels to the entrance of the liver, and expels the sedimentary matter of the food to the wider passages of the bowels. By turning it over in their many windings, it retains the food for a time in the intestines, so that if it were easily eliminated through a straight passage, the animal might not be immediately excited to appetite again, and man, like the race of irrational animals, might never cease from this sort of activity.

21. But if the organ which contains the food should obtain sufficient material, not even so does the activity of the fire become quiescent: but it produces a sort of melting of the material just as in a foundry, and, dissolving the solids, pours them out and transfers them, as it were from a funnel, to the neighbouring passages: then separating the coarser from the pure substance, it passes the fine part through certain channels to the entrance of the liver, and expels the sedimentary matter of the food to the wider passages of the bowels, and by turning it over in their manifold windings retains the food for a time in the intestines, lest if it were easily got rid of by a straight passage it might at once excite the animal again to appetite, and man, like the race of irrational animals, might never cease from this sort of occupation.

As we saw, however, the liver has a special need for the cooperation of heat to convert the fluids into blood, while this organ is positioned at a distance from the heart (for it would have been impossible, I imagine, for it to be one principle or root of the vital power without being hindered by being too close to another such principle). So that the system may suffer no harm from the distance at which the heat-giving substance is placed, a muscular passage (which those skilled in such matters call the artery) receives the heated air from the heart and carries it to the liver, opening there somewhere beside the point where the fluids enter. As it warms the moist substance with its heat, it blends something akin to fire with the liquid, and makes the blood appear red with the fiery color it produces.

22. As we saw, however, that the liver has special need of the co-operation of heat for the conversion of the fluids into blood, while this organ is in position distant from the heart (for it would, I imagine, have been impossible that, being one principle or root of the vital power, it should not be hampered by vicinity with another such principle), in order that the system may suffer no injury by the distance at which the heat-giving substance is placed, a muscular passage (and this, by those skilled in such matters, is called the artery) receives the heated air from the heart and conveys it to the liver, making its opening there somewhere beside the point at which the fluids enter, and, as it warms the moist substance by its heat, blends with the liquid something akin to fire, and makes the blood appear red with the fiery tint it produces.

Starting from there, certain paired channels, each containing its own flow like a pipe, distribute air and blood throughout the entire body in various directions (so that the liquid substance can move freely when it is accompanied and made lighter by the movement of the heated substance), dividing at every point into countless branching channels. As the two principles of the vital powers mix together (the one that distributes heat and the one that supplies moisture to all parts of the body), they create a kind of compulsory contribution from the substance they work with to the supreme force in the vital system.

23. Issuing thence again, certain twin channels, each enclosing its own current like a pipe, disperse air and blood (that the liquid substance may have free course when accompanied and lightened by the motion of the heated substance) in various directions over the whole body, breaking at every part into countless branching channels; while as the two principles of the vital powers mingle together (that alike which disperses heat, and that which supplies moisture to all parts of the body), they make, as it were, a sort of compulsory contribution from the substance with which they deal to the supreme force in the vital economy.

This force is understood to reside in the cerebral membranes and the brain. From there, every movement of a joint, every contraction of the muscles, and every spontaneous influence that acts upon the individual parts makes our earthen statue active and mobile, as if by some mechanism. The purest form of heat and the most refined form of liquid are united by their respective forces through a process of mixing and combination. They nourish and sustain the brain with their moisture. In turn, being refined to the purest condition, the vapor that proceeds from that organ coats the membrane enclosing the brain. This membrane extends from above downward like a pipe through the successive vertebrae, and both it and the marrow it contains reach all the way to the base of the spine. Like a charioteer, it gives the impulse and power to all the connection points of bones and joints, and to the branches of the muscles, for the motion or rest of the individual parts.

24. Now this force is that which is considered as residing in the cerebral membranes and the brain, from which it comes that every movement of a joint, every contraction of the muscles, every spontaneous influence that is exerted upon the individual members, renders our earthen statue active and mobile as though by some mechanism. For the most pure form of heat and the most subtle form of liquid, being united by their respective forces through a process of mixture and combination, nourish and sustain by their moisture the brain, and hence in turn, being rarefied to the most pure condition, the exhalation that proceeds from that organ anoints the membrane which encloses the brain, which, reaching from above downwards like a pipe, extending through the successive vertebræ, is (itself and the marrow which is contained in it) conterminous with the base of the spine, itself giving like a charioteer the impulse and power to all the meeting-points of bones and joints, and to the branches of the muscles, for the motion or rest of the particular parts.

For this reason also, it seems to me that this force has been granted a more secure protection. In the head, it is distinguished by a double shelter of bones surrounding it, and in the vertebrae of the neck by the bulwarks formed by the projections of the spine as well as by the varied interlacings of the very shape of those vertebrae. Through these features it is kept free from all harm, enjoying safety by the defenses that surround it.

25. For this cause too it seems to me that it has been granted a more secure defense, being distinguished, in the head, by a double shelter of bones round about, and in the vertebræ of the neck by the bulwarks formed by the projections of the spine as well as by the diversified interlacings of the very form of those vertebræ, by which it is kept in freedom from all harm, enjoying safety by the defense that surrounds it.

Similarly, one could consider the heart to be like a secure house equipped with the strongest defenses, protected by the surrounding walls of bones. Behind it is the spine, reinforced on both sides by the shoulder blades, and on each side the encircling ribs make what lies between them hard to harm. In front, the breastbone and the connection of the collarbone act as protection, so that its safety is guarded from all sides against external dangers.

26. So too one might suppose of the heart, that it is itself like some safe house fitted with the most solid defences, fortified by the enclosing walls of the bones round about; for in rear there is the spine, strengthened on either side by the shoulder-blades, and on each flank the enfolding position of the ribs makes that which is in the midst between them difficult to injure; while in front the breast-bone and the juncture of the collar-bone serve as a defense, that its safety may be guarded at all points from external causes of danger.

As we see in agriculture, when rain falls from the clouds or overflow from river channels causes the land beneath to be saturated with moisture—let us imagine for our argument a garden, nourishing within its borders countless varieties of trees and all the forms of plants that grow from the ground, whose shape, quality, and individual characteristics we observe in great variety of detail—then, as these are nourished by the liquid element while they are in one place, the power that supplies moisture to each individual plant is one in nature. But the individual character of the plants being nourished transforms the liquid element into different qualities. For the same substance becomes bitter in wormwood and is changed into a deadly juice in hemlock, and becomes different in different other plants—in saffron, in balsam, in the poppy. In one it becomes hot, in another cold, in another it obtains the middle quality. In laurel and mastic it is scented, and in the fig and the pear it is sweetened, and by passing through the vine it is turned into the grape and into wine. The juice of the apple, the redness of the rose, the radiance of the lily, the blue of the violet, the purple of the hyacinth dye, and all that we see in the earth arise from one and the same moisture and are separated into so many varieties in respect of shape and appearance and quality. The same sort of wonder is produced in the animated soil of our being by Nature, or rather by Nature's Lord. Bones, cartilages, veins, arteries, nerves, ligaments, flesh, skin, fat, hair, glands, nails, eyes, nostrils, ears—all such things as these, and countless others in addition, while separated from one another by various distinctive features, are nourished by the one form of nourishment in ways proper to their own nature, in the sense that the nourishment, when it is brought into close contact with any of these parts, is also changed according to that which it approaches, and becomes adapted and united to the special nature of the part. For if it should be in the area of the eye, it blends with the visual part and is appropriately distributed by the difference of the coats around the eye among the individual parts. Or if it flows to the auditory parts, it is mingled with the hearing nature. Or if it is in the lip, it becomes lip. And it grows solid in bone and grows soft in marrow, and is made tense with the sinew, and extended with the surface, and passes into the nails, and is refined for the growth of the hair by corresponding exhalations, producing hair that is somewhat curly or wavy if it makes its way through winding passages, while if the course of the exhalations that go to form the hair lies straight, it renders the hair stiff and straight.

27. As we see in husbandry, when the rain fall from the clouds or the overflow from the river channels causes the land beneath it to be saturated with moisture (let us suppose for our argument a garden, nourishing within its own compass countless varieties of trees, and all the forms of plants that grow from the ground, and whereof we contemplate the figure, quality, and individuality in great variety of detail); then, as these are nourished by the liquid element while they are in one spot, the power which supplies moisture to each individual among them is one in nature; but the individuality of the plants so nourished changes the liquid element into different qualities; for the same substance becomes bitter in wormwood, and is changed into a deadly juice in hemlock, and becomes different in different other plants, in saffron, in balsam, in the poppy: for in one it becomes hot, in another cold, in another it obtains the middle quality: and in laurel and mastick it is scented, and in the fig and the pear it is sweetened, and by passing through the vine it is turned into the grape and into wine; while the juice of the apple, the redness of the rose, the radiance of the lily, the blue of the violet, the purple of the hyacinthine dye, and all that we behold in the earth, arise from one and the same moisture, and are separated into so many varieties in respect of figure and aspect and quality; the same sort of wonder is wrought in the animated soil of our being by Nature, or rather by Nature's Lord. Bones, cartilages, veins, arteries, nerves, ligatures, flesh, skin, fat, hair, glands, nails, eyes, nostrils, ears — all such things as these, and countless others in addition, while separated from one another by various peculiarities, are nourished by the one form of nourishment in ways proper to their own nature, in the sense that the nourishment, when it is brought into close relation with any of the subjects, is also changed according to that to which it approaches, and becomes adapted and allied to the special nature of the part. For if it should be in the neighbourhood of the eye, it blends with the visual part and is appropriately distributed by the difference of the coats round the eye, among the single parts; or, if it flow to the auditory parts, it is mingled with the auscultatory nature, or if it is in the lip, it becomes lip; and it grows solid in bone, and grows soft in marrow, and is made tense with the sinew, and extended with the surface, and passes into the nails, and is fined down for the growth of the hair, by correspondent exhalations, producing hair that is somewhat curly or wavy if it makes its way through winding passages, while, if the course of the exhalations that go to form the hair lies straight, it renders the hair stiff and straight.

Our argument, however, has wandered far from its purpose, going deep into the works of nature and trying to describe how and from what materials our specific organs are formed—those intended for life and for good life, and any other category we included with these in our first division.

28. Our argument, however, has wandered far from its purpose, going deep into the works of nature, and endeavouring to describe how and from what materials our particular organs are formed, those, I mean, intended for life and for good life, and any other class which we included with these in our first division.

Our purpose was to show that the seminal cause of our constitution is neither a soul without a body nor a body without a soul, but that it is generated from animated and living bodies at the very beginning as a living and animate being. Our humanity then takes it and nourishes it like a nursling with the resources she herself possesses, and it grows in both respects and manifests its growth correspondingly in each part. Through this skillful and ordered process of formation, it immediately displays the power of the soul that is interwoven within it, appearing at first somewhat obscurely but afterward increasing in brightness as the work is perfected.

29. For our purpose was to show that the seminal cause of our constitution is neither a soul without body, nor a body without soul, but that, from animated and living bodies, it is generated at the first as a living and animate being, and that our humanity takes it and cherishes it like a nursling with the resources she herself possesses, and it thus grows on both sides and makes its growth manifest correspondingly in either part:– for it at once displays, by this artificial and scientific process of formation, the power of soul that is interwoven in it, appearing at first somewhat obscurely, but afterwards increasing in radiance concurrently with the perfecting of the work.

As we may see with stone-carvers—for the artist's purpose is to produce in stone the figure of some animal. With this in mind, he first separates the stone from its surrounding material, and then, by chipping away the unnecessary parts, he gradually moves from his first rough outline toward the likeness he intends to create, so that even an untrained observer can guess at his artistic goal by what he sees. Then, by continuing to work on it, he brings it closer to the appearance of the object he has in view. Finally, by producing in the material the complete and finished figure, he brings his art to its conclusion, and what a little while before was a shapeless stone is now a lion, or a man, or whatever the artist has made—not by changing the material into the figure, but by imposing the figure upon the material. If one imagines something similar in the case of the soul, he is not far from the truth. For we say that Nature, the all-designing power, takes from its kindred matter the part that comes from the man, and shapes her statue within herself. And just as the form emerges as the stone is gradually worked—at first somewhat unclear, but more perfect after the work is completed—so too in the shaping of its instrument the form of the soul is expressed in the underlying matter, incompletely in what is still incomplete, perfectly in what is perfect. Indeed, it would have been perfect from the beginning if our nature had not been damaged by evil. Thus our participation in that generation which is subject to passion and belongs to animal nature brings it about that the Divine image does not immediately shine forth at our formation, but brings man to perfection by a certain method and sequence, through those attributes of the soul which are material and belong more to the animal creation.

30. And as we may see with stone-carvers — for the artist's purpose is to produce in stone the figure of some animal; and with this in his mind, he first severs the stone from its kindred matter, and then, by chipping away the superfluous parts of it, advances somehow by the intermediate step of his first outline to the imitation which he has in his purpose, so that even an unskilled observer may, by what he sees, conjecture the aim of his art; again, by working at it, he brings it more nearly to the semblance of the object he has in view; lastly, producing in the material the perfect and finished figure, he brings his art to its conclusion, and that which a little before was a shapeless stone is a lion, or a man, or whatsoever it may be that the artist has made, not by the change of the material into the figure, but by the figure being wrought upon the material. If one supposes the like in the case of the soul he is not far from probability; for we say that Nature, the all-contriving, takes from its kindred matter the part that comes from the man, and moulds her statue within herself. And as the form follows upon the gradual working of the stone, at first somewhat indistinct, but more perfect after the completion of the work, so too in the moulding of its instrument the form of the soul is expressed in the substratum, incompletely in that which is still incomplete, perfect in that which is perfect; indeed it would have been perfect from the beginning had our nature not been maimed by evil. Thus our community in that generation which is subject to passion and of animal nature, brings it about that the Divine image does not at once shine forth at our formation, but brings man to perfection by a certain method and sequence, through those attributes of the soul which are material, and belong rather to the animal creation.

Some similar teaching is also given to us by the great apostle in his Epistle to the Corinthians, when he says, "When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things" (1 Corinthians 13:11). He does not mean that the soul that exists in the man is different from the one we know to be in the boy, or that the childish intellect disappears while the mature intellect comes into being in us. Rather, the same soul shows its imperfect condition in the one case and its perfect state in the other.

31. Some such doctrine as this the great apostle also teaches us in his Epistle to the Corinthians, when he says, When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things 1 Corinthians 13:11; not that the soul which arises in the man is different from that which we know to be in the boy, and the childish intellect fails while the manly intellect takes its being in us; but that the same soul displays its imperfect condition in the one, its perfect state in the other.

We say that things which spring up and grow are alive, and no one would deny that all things sharing in life and natural motion are animate. Yet at the same time, one cannot say that such life partakes of a perfect soul. For though a certain animate operation exists in plants, it does not reach the level of sensory motion. And on the other hand, though a certain further animate power exists in the brutes, this too does not attain perfection, since it does not contain within itself the grace of reason and intelligence.

32. For we say that those things are alive which spring up and grow, and no one would deny that all things that participate in life and natural motion are animate, yet at the same time one cannot say that such life partakes of a perfect soul — for though a certain animate operation exists in plants, it does not attain to the motions of sense; and on the other hand, though a certain further animate power exists in the brutes, neither does this attain perfection, since it does not contain in itself the grace of reason and intelligence.

We say that the true and perfect soul is the human soul, recognized by every operation. We call anything else that shares in life "animate" by a kind of customary misuse of language, because in these cases the soul does not exist in a perfect condition, but only certain parts of the soul's operation are present. According to Moses' mystical account of man's origin, we learn that even in man these aspects accrued when he made himself like this sensuous world. Thus Paul, when advising those who were able to hear him to lay hold on perfection, also indicates the way they may attain that goal, telling them that they must put off the old man and put on the man which is renewed after the image of Him that created him.

33. And even so we say that the true and perfect soul is the human soul, recognized by every operation; and anything else that shares in life we call animate by a sort of customary misuse of language, because in these cases the soul does not exist in a perfect condition, but only certain parts of the operation of the soul, which in man also (according to Moses' mystical account of man's origin) we learn to have accrued when he made himself like this sensuous world. Thus Paul, advising those who were able to hear him to lay hold on perfection, indicates also the mode in which they may attain that object, telling them that they must put off the old man, and put on the man which is renewed after the image of Him that created him Colossians 3:9-10.

Now may we all return to that Divine grace in which God at the first created man, when He said, "Let us make man in our image and likeness." To Him be glory and might for ever and ever. Amen.

34. Now may we all return to that Divine grace in which God at the first created man, when He said, Let us make man in our image and likeness; to Whom be glory and might for ever and ever. Amen.