Author: Mourad Takla

Desiring to train the reader in the things that are made, so that he may know Him by whom they are made, we have now advanced as far as His image, which is man, in that wherein he excels the other animals—that is, in reason or intelligence, and whatever else can be said of the rational or intellectual soul that pertains to what is called the mind. For by this name some Latin writers, according to their own particular way of speaking, distinguish what excels in man and is not in the beast from the soul, which is in the beast as well. If, then, we seek anything that is above this nature, and seek truly, it is God—namely, a nature not created but creating. And whether this is the Trinity, it is now our task to demonstrate not only to believers by the authority of divine Scripture, but also to those who understand by some kind of reason, if we can. And why I say "if we can," the thing itself will show better when we have begun to argue about it in our inquiry.

1. Desiring to exercise the reader in the things that are made, in order that he may know Him by whom they are made, we have now advanced so far as to His image, which is man, in that wherein he excels the other animals, i.e. in reason or intelligence, and whatever else can be said of the rational or intellectual soul that pertains to what is called the mind. For by this name some Latin writers, after their own peculiar mode of speech, distinguish that which excels in man, and is not in the beast, from the soul, which is in the beast as well. If, then, we seek anything that is above this nature, and seek truly, it is God — namely, a nature not created, but creating. And whether this is the Trinity, it is now our business to demonstrate not only to believers, by authority of divine Scripture, but also to such as understand, by some kind of reason, if we can. And why I say, if we can, the thing itself will show better when we have begun to argue about it in our inquiry.

God Himself, whom we seek, will, I hope, help our efforts so they will not be fruitless, and so we may understand what is said in the holy Psalm: Let the heart of them rejoice that seek the Lord. Seek the Lord, and be strengthened: seek His face evermore. For what is always being sought seems as though it is never found. How then will the heart of those who seek rejoice, and not rather be made sad, if they cannot find what they seek? For it does not say, The heart shall rejoice of those who find, but of those who seek, the Lord. And yet the prophet Isaiah testifies that the Lord God can be found when He is sought, saying: Seek the Lord, and as soon as you have found Him, call upon Him, and when He has drawn near to you, let the wicked man forsake his ways, and the unrighteous man his thoughts. If, then, when sought, He can be found, why is it said, Seek His face evermore? Is He perhaps to be sought even when found? For things incomprehensible must be investigated in such a way that no one may think he has found nothing when he has been able to find how incomprehensible that is which he was seeking. Why then does he continue seeking, if he comprehends that what he seeks is incomprehensible, unless it is because he may not stop seeking so long as he makes progress in the inquiry itself into incomprehensible things, and becomes ever better and better while seeking so great a good, which is both sought in order to be found, and found in order to be sought? For it is both sought in order that it may be found more sweetly, and found in order that it may be sought more eagerly. The words of Wisdom in the book of Ecclesiasticus may be understood in this way: They who eat me shall still be hungry, and they who drink me shall still be thirsty. For they eat and drink because they find, and they still continue seeking because they are hungry and thirsty. Faith seeks, understanding finds. This is why the prophet says, Unless you believe, you shall not understand. And yet, again, understanding still seeks Him whom it finds, for God looked down upon the sons of men, as it is sung in the holy Psalm, to see if there were any that would understand, and seek after God. And therefore man ought to have understanding for this purpose: that he may seek after God.

2. For God Himself, whom we seek, will, as I hope, help our labors, that they may not be unfruitful, and that we may understand how it is said in the holy Psalm, Let the heart of them rejoice that seek the Lord. Seek the Lord, and be strengthened: seek His face evermore. For that which is always being sought seems as though it were never found; and how then will the heart of them that seek rejoice, and not rather be made sad, if they cannot find what they seek? For it is not said, The heart shall rejoice of them that find, but of them that seek, the Lord. And yet the prophet Isaiah testifies, that the Lord God can be found when He is sought, when he says: Seek the Lord; and as soon as you have found Him, call upon Him: and when He has drawn near to you, let the wicked man forsake his ways, and the unrighteous man his thoughts. If, then, when sought, He can be found, why is it said, Seek ye His face evermore? Is He perhaps to be sought even when found? For things incomprehensible must so be investigated, as that no one may think he has found nothing, when he has been able to find how incomprehensible that is which he was seeking. Why then does he so seek, if he comprehends that which he seeks to be incomprehensible, unless because he may not give over seeking so long as he makes progress in the inquiry itself into things incomprehensible, and becomes ever better and better while seeking so great a good, which is both sought in order to be found, and found in order to be sought? For it is both sought in order that it may be found more sweetly, and found in order that it may be sought more eagerly. The words of Wisdom in the book of Ecclesiasticus may be taken in this meaning: They who eat me shall still be hungry, and they who drink me shall still be thirsty. For they eat and drink because they find; and they still continue seeking because they are hungry and thirst. Faith seeks, understanding finds; whence the prophet says, Unless ye believe, you shall not understand. And yet, again, understanding still seeks Him, whom it finds; for God looked down upon the sons of men, as it is sung in the holy Psalm, to see if there were any that would understand, and seek after God. And man, therefore, ought for this purpose to have understanding, that he may seek after God.

We have spent enough time among the things God has made so that through them we may come to know Him who made them. For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made. And for this reason they are rebuked in the book of Wisdom who could not know Him that is from the good things that are seen, and who did not acknowledge the workmaster by considering the works. Instead they thought that the gods governing the world were either fire, or wind, or the swift air, or the circle of the stars, or the violent water, or the lights of heaven. If they were delighted with the beauty of these things and took them to be gods, let them know how much better the Lord of them is, for the first Author of beauty has created them. But if they were amazed at their power and virtue, let them understand by them how much mightier He is that made them. For by the greatness and beauty of the creatures, the Maker of them is seen proportionally. I have quoted these words from the book of Wisdom for this reason: so that no one of the faithful may think I have searched vainly and emptily for traces of that highest Trinity which we seek when we seek God by first looking in the creature, step by step through certain trinities, each of their own appropriate kind, until I came at last to the mind of man.

3. We shall have tarried then long enough among those things that God has made, in order that by them He Himself may be known that made them. For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made. And hence they are rebuked in the book of Wisdom, who could not out of the good things that are seen know Him that is: neither by considering the works did they acknowledge the workmaster; but deemed either fire, or wind, or the swift air or the circle of the stars, or the violent water, or the lights of heaven, to be the gods which govern the world: with whose beauty if they, being delighted, took them to be gods, let them know how much better the Lord of them is; for the first Author of beauty has created them. But if they were astonished at their power and virtue, let them understand by them how much mightier He is that made them. For by the greatness and beauty of the creatures proportionably the Maker of them is seen. I have quoted these words from the book of Wisdom for this reason, that no one of the faithful may think me vainly and emptily to have sought first in the creature, step by step through certain trinities, each of their own appropriate kind, until I came at last to the mind of man, traces of that highest Trinity which we seek when we seek God.

Since the requirements of our discussion and argument have forced us to say many things over the course of fourteen books, which we cannot see all at once in a single glance so that we can quickly bring them to mind in relation to what we want to understand, I will try, with God's help and to the best of my ability, to briefly gather together—without arguing—whatever I have established through argument in each book as something known, and to place it, so to speak, under one mental view. This will present not the way we have been convinced of each point, but the points themselves of which we have been convinced. My purpose is to prevent what follows from being so far removed from what precedes that reading the later material produces forgetfulness of the earlier material. Or if such forgetfulness has already occurred, what has slipped from memory can be quickly recovered by reading again.

4. But since the necessities of our discussion and argument have compelled us to say a great many things in the course of fourteen books, which we cannot view at once in one glance, so as to be able to refer them quickly in thought to that which we desire to grasp, I will attempt, by the help of God, to the best of my power, to put briefly together, without arguing, whatever I have established in the several books by argument as known, and to place, as it were, under one mental view, not the way in which we have been convinced of each point, but the points themselves of which we have been convinced; in order that what follows may not be so far separated from that which precedes, as that the perusal of the former shall produce forgetfulness of the latter; or at any rate, if it have produced such forgetfulness, that what has escaped the memory may be speedily recalled by re-perusal.

In the first book, the unity and equality of the highest Trinity is shown from Holy Scripture. In the second, third, and fourth books, the same point is made. But a careful handling of the question about the sending of the Son and of the Holy Spirit has resulted in three books. We have demonstrated that He who is sent is not therefore less than He who sends, simply because one sent and the other was sent. The Trinity, which is equal in all things and equally unchangeable, invisible, and present everywhere in its own nature, works indivisibly. In the fifth book, we address those who think the substance of the Father and of the Son is not the same because they suppose everything predicated of God is predicated according to substance. They therefore argue that to beget and to be begotten, or to be begotten and unbegotten, being different, are different substances. We demonstrate that not everything predicated of God is predicated according to substance, as He is called good and great according to substance, or anything else predicated of Him in respect to Himself. But some things are also predicated relatively—that is, not in respect to Himself, but in respect to something which is not Himself. For example, He is called the Father in respect to the Son, or the Lord in respect to the creature that serves Him. And when anything predicated relatively, that is, predicated in respect to something that is not Himself, is also predicated in time—as when it is said, "Lord, You have become our refuge"—nothing happens to Him that works a change in Him. He continues altogether unchangeable in His own nature or essence. In the sixth book, the question of how Christ is called by the apostle the power of God and the wisdom of God is argued to the point where more careful handling of that question is deferred. Namely, whether He from whom Christ is begotten is not wisdom Himself, but only the father of His own wisdom, or whether wisdom begot wisdom. But whichever it may be, the equality of the Trinity became apparent in this book also, and that God was not triple, but a Trinity. And the Father and the Son are not, as it were, a double as opposed to the single Holy Spirit, for in this Trinity three are not anything more than one. We also considered how to understand the words of Bishop Hilary: Eternity in the Father, form in the Image, use in the Gift. In the seventh book, the question that had been deferred is explained: in what way God who begot the Son is not only Father of His own power and wisdom, but is Himself also power and wisdom. So too the Holy Spirit. And yet they are not three powers or three wisdoms, but one power and one wisdom, as one God and one essence. It was next inquired in what way they are called one essence, three persons, or by some Greeks one essence, three substances. We found that these words were used because of the needs of speech, so that there might be one term by which to answer when it is asked what the three are, whom we truly confess to be three, namely Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit. In the eighth book, it is made plain by reason also to those who understand, that not only is the Father not greater than the Son in the substance of truth, but that both together are not anything greater than the Holy Spirit alone. Nor are any two at all in the same Trinity anything greater than one, nor all three together anything greater than each separately. Next, I have pointed out that by means of the truth, which is beheld by the understanding, and by means of the highest good, from which is all good, and by means of the righteousness for which a righteous mind is loved even by a mind not yet righteous, we might understand, so far as it is possible to understand, that not only incorporeal but also unchangeable nature which is God. And by means, too, of love, which in the Holy Scriptures is called God, those who have understanding begin also, however feebly, to discern the Trinity: namely, one that loves, and that which is loved, and love. In the ninth book, the argument advances as far as to the image of God, namely man in respect to his mind. In this we found a kind of trinity, that is, the mind, and the knowledge whereby the mind knows itself, and the love whereby it loves both itself and its knowledge of itself. And these three are shown to be mutually equal and of one essence. In the tenth book, the same subject is more carefully and subtly handled and is brought to this point: we found in the mind a still more manifest trinity of the mind, namely in memory, and understanding, and will. But since it turned out also that the mind could never be in such a case as not to remember, understand, and love itself, although it did not always think of itself—and that when it did think of itself, it did not in the same act of thought distinguish itself from things corporeal—the argument concerning the Trinity, of which this is an image, was deferred, in order to find a trinity also in the things themselves that are seen with the body, and to exercise the reader's attention more distinctly in that. Accordingly, in the eleventh book, we chose the sense of sight, wherein what should have been found to hold good there might be recognized also in the other four bodily senses, although not expressly mentioned. And so a trinity of the outer man first showed itself in those things which are discerned from without, namely from the bodily object which is seen, and from the form which is thence impressed upon the eye of the beholder, and from the purpose of the will combining the two. But these three things, as was evident, were not mutually equal and of one substance. Next, we found yet another trinity in the mind itself, introduced into it, as it were, by the things perceived from without. Here the same three things, as it appeared, were of one substance: the image of the bodily object which is in the memory, and the form thence impressed when the mind's eye of the thinker is turned to it, and the purpose of the will combining the two. But we found this trinity to pertain to the outer man, because it was introduced into the mind from bodily objects which are perceived from without. In the twelfth book, we thought good to distinguish wisdom from knowledge, and to seek first, as being the lower of the two, a kind of appropriate and special trinity in that which is specially called knowledge. But although we have now in this reached something pertaining to the inner man, yet it is not yet to be either called or thought an image of God. And this is discussed in the thirteenth book by the commendation of Christian faith. In the fourteenth book we discuss the true wisdom of man, namely that which is granted him by God's gift in the partaking of that very God Himself, which is distinct from knowledge. The discussion reached this point, that a trinity is discovered in the image of God, which is man in respect to his mind, which mind is renewed in the knowledge of God, after the image of Him that created man after His own image, and so obtains wisdom, wherein is the contemplation of things eternal.

5. In the first book, the unity and equality of that highest Trinity is shown from Holy Scripture. In the second, and third, and fourth, the same: but a careful handling of the question respecting the sending of the Son and of the Holy Spirit has resulted in three books; and we have demonstrated, that He who is sent is not therefore less than He who sends because the one sent, the other was sent; since the Trinity, which is in all things equal, being also equally in its own nature unchangeable, and invisible, and everywhere present, works indivisibly. In the fifth — with a view to those who think that the substance of the Father and of the Son is therefore not the same, because they suppose everything that is predicated of God to be predicated according to substance, and therefore contend that to beget and to be begotten, or to be begotten and unbegotten, as being diverse, are diverse substances, — it is demonstrated that not everything that is predicated of God is predicated according to substance, as He is called good and great according to substance, or anything else that is predicated of Him in respect to Himself, but that some things also are predicated relatively, i.e. not in respect to Himself, but in respect to something which is not Himself; as He is called the Father in respect to the Son, or the Lord in respect to the creature that serves Him; and that here, if anything thus relatively predicated, i.e. predicated in respect to something that is not Himself, is predicated also as in time, as, e.g., Lord, You have become our refuge, then nothing happens to Him so as to work a change in Him, but He Himself continues altogether unchangeable in His own nature or essence. In the sixth, the question how Christ is called by the mouth of the apostle the power of God and the wisdom of God, is so far argued that the more careful handling of that question is deferred, viz. whether He from whom Christ is begotten is not wisdom Himself, but only the father of His own wisdom, or whether wisdom begot wisdom. But be it which it may, the equality of the Trinity became apparent in this book also, and that God was not triple, but a Trinity; and that the Father and the Son are not, as it were, a double as opposed to the single Holy Spirit: for therein three are not anything more than one. We considered, too, how to understand the words of Bishop Hilary, Eternity in the Father, form in the Image, use in the Gift. In the seventh, the question is explained which had been deferred: in what way that God who begot the Son is not only Father of His own power and wisdom, but is Himself also power and wisdom; so, too, the Holy Spirit; and yet that they are not three powers or three wisdoms, but one power and one wisdom, as one God and one essence. It was next inquired, in what way they are called one essence, three persons, or by some Greeks one essence, three substances; and we found that the words were so used through the needs of speech, that there might be one term by which to answer, when it is asked what the three are, whom we truly confess to be three, viz. Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit. In the eighth, it is made plain by reason also to those who understand, that not only the Father is not greater than the Son in the substance of truth, but that both together are not anything greater than the Holy Spirit alone, nor that any two at all in the same Trinity are anything greater than one, nor all three together anything greater than each severally. Next, I have pointed out, that by means of the truth, which is beheld by the understanding, and by means of the highest good, from which is all good, and by means of the righteousness for which a righteous mind is loved even by a mind not yet righteous, we might understand, so far as it is possible to understand, that not only incorporeal but also unchangeable nature which is God; and by means, too, of love, which in the Holy Scriptures is called God, by which, first of all, those who have understanding begin also, however feebly, to discern the Trinity, to wit, one that loves, and that which is loved, and love. In the ninth, the argument advances as far as to the image of God, viz. man in respect to his mind; and in this we found a kind of trinity, i.e. the mind, and the knowledge whereby the mind knows itself, and the love whereby it loves both itself and its knowledge of itself; and these three are shown to be mutually equal, and of one essence. In the tenth, the same subject is more carefully and subtly handled, and is brought to this point, that we found in the mind a still more manifest trinity of the mind, viz. in memory, and understanding, and will. But since it turned out also, that the mind could never be in such a case as not to remember, understand, and love itself, although it did not always think of itself; but that when it did think of itself, it did not in the same act of thought distinguish itself from things corporeal; the argument respecting the Trinity, of which this is an image, was deferred, in order to find a trinity also in the things themselves that are seen with the body, and to exercise the reader's attention more distinctly in that. Accordingly, in the eleventh, we chose the sense of sight, wherein that which should have been there found to hold good might be recognized also in the other four bodily senses, although not expressly mentioned; and so a trinity of the outer man first showed itself in those things which are discerned from without, to wit, from the bodily object which is seen, and from the form which is thence impressed upon the eye of the beholder, and from the purpose of the will combining the two. But these three things, as was patent, were not mutually equal and of one substance. Next, we found yet another trinity in the mind itself, introduced into it, as it were, by the things perceived from without; wherein the same three things, as it appeared, were of one substance: the image of the bodily object which is in the memory, and the form thence impressed when the mind's eye of the thinker is turned to it, and the purpose of the will combining the two. But we found this trinity to pertain to the outer man, on this account, that it was introduced into the mind from bodily objects which are perceived from without. In the twelfth, we thought good to distinguish wisdom from knowledge, and to seek first, as being the lower of the two, a kind of appropriate and special trinity in that which is specially called knowledge; but that although we have got now in this to something pertaining to the inner man, yet it is not yet to be either called or thought an image of God. And this is discussed in the thirteenth book by the commendation of Christian faith. In the fourteenth we discuss the true wisdom of man, viz. that which is granted him by God's gift in the partaking of that very God Himself, which is distinct from knowledge; and the discussion reached this point, that a trinity is discovered in the image of God, which is man in respect to his mind, which mind is renewed in the knowledge of God, after the image of Him that created man; after His own image; and so obtains wisdom, wherein is the contemplation of things eternal.

Let us now search for the Trinity who is God in those things that are eternal, incorporeal, and unchangeable. In the perfect contemplation of these, a blessed life is promised to us, which can only be eternal. Not only does the authority of the divine books declare that God exists, but the whole nature of the universe surrounding us—to which we also belong—proclaims that it has a most excellent Creator. This Creator has given us a mind and natural reason so that we can see certain truths: living things are to be preferred to non-living things; things with sensation to things without it; things with understanding to things without it; immortal things to mortal things; powerful things to powerless things; righteous things to unrighteous things; beautiful things to deformed things; good things to evil things; incorruptible things to corruptible things; unchangeable things to changeable things; invisible things to visible things; incorporeal things to corporeal things; blessed things to miserable things. Therefore, since we certainly place the Creator above created things, we must confess that the Creator lives in the highest sense, perceives and understands all things, cannot die or suffer decay or be changed, and is not a body but a spirit—the most powerful, most righteous, most beautiful, most good, and most blessed of all.

6. Let us, then, now seek the Trinity which is God, in the things themselves that are eternal, incorporeal, and unchangeable; in the perfect contemplation of which a blessed life is promised us, which cannot be other than eternal. For not only does the authority of the divine books declare that God is; but the whole nature of the universe itself which surrounds us, and to which we also belong, proclaims that it has a most excellent Creator, who has given to us a mind and natural reason, whereby to see that things living are to be preferred to things that are not living; things that have sense to things that have not; things that have understanding to things that have not; things immortal to things mortal; things powerful to things impotent; things righteous to things unrighteous; things beautiful to things deformed; things good to things evil; things incorruptible to things corruptible; things unchangeable to things changeable; things invisible to things visible; things incorporeal to things corporeal; things blessed to things miserable. And hence, since without doubt we place the Creator above things created, we must needs confess that the Creator both lives in the highest sense, and perceives and understands all things, and that He cannot die, or suffer decay, or be changed; and that He is not a body, but a spirit, of all the most powerful, most righteous, most beautiful, most good, most blessed.

But everything I have said, and whatever else seems to be worthily said of God in the manner of human speech, applies to the whole Trinity, which is one God, and to the individual Persons in that Trinity. For who would dare to say either of the one God, which is the Trinity itself, or of the Father, or Son, or Holy Spirit, that He is not living, or is without sense or intelligence? Or that, in that nature in which they are affirmed to be mutually equal, any one of them is mortal, or corruptible, or changeable, or corporeal? Or is there anyone who would deny that any one in the Trinity is most powerful, most righteous, most beautiful, most good, most blessed? If, then, these things and all others like them can be predicated both of the Trinity itself and of each individual one in that Trinity, where or how shall the Trinity show itself distinct? Let us therefore first reduce these numerous predicates to some limited number. For what is called life in God is itself His essence and nature. God, therefore, does not live unless by the life which He is to Himself. And this life is not like that which is in a tree, which has neither understanding nor sense, nor like that which is in a beast, for the life of a beast possesses the fivefold sense but has no understanding. But the life which is God perceives and understands all things, and perceives by mind, not by body, because God is a spirit. And God does not perceive through a body as animals do, which have bodies, for He does not consist of soul and body. And hence that single nature perceives as it understands, and understands as it perceives, and its sense and understanding are one and the same. Nor is it so that at any time He should either cease or begin to be, for He is immortal. And it is not said of Him in vain that He alone has immortality. For immortality is true immortality in His case whose nature admits no change. That is also true eternity by which God is unchangeable, without beginning, without end, and consequently also incorruptible. It is one and the same thing, therefore, to call God eternal, or immortal, or incorruptible, or unchangeable, and it is likewise one and the same thing to say that He is living and that He is intelligent, that is, truly wise. For He did not receive wisdom by which to be wise, but He is Himself wisdom. And this is life, and again is power or might, and yet again beauty, by which He is called powerful and beautiful. For what is more powerful and more beautiful than wisdom, which reaches from end to end mightily and sweetly disposes all things? Or do goodness and righteousness differ from each other in the nature of God as they differ in His works, as though they were two diverse qualities of God—goodness one and righteousness another? Certainly not. But that which is righteousness is also itself goodness, and that which is goodness is also itself blessedness. And God is therefore called incorporeal, that He may be believed and understood to be a spirit, not a body.

7. But all that I have said, and whatever else seems to be worthily said of God after the like fashion of human speech, applies to the whole Trinity, which is one God, and to the several Persons in that Trinity. For who would dare to say either of the one God, which is the Trinity itself, or of the Father, or Son, or Holy Spirit, either that He is not living, or is without sense or intelligence; or that, in that nature in which they are affirmed to be mutually equal, any one of them is mortal, or corruptible, or changeable, or corporeal? Or is there any one who would deny that any one in the Trinity is most powerful, most righteous, most beautiful, most good, most blessed? If, then, these things, and all others of the kind, can be predicated both of the Trinity itself, and of each several one in that Trinity, where or how shall the Trinity manifest itself? Let us therefore first reduce these numerous predicates to some limited number. For that which is called life in God, is itself His essence and nature. God, therefore, does not live, unless by the life which He is to Himself. And this life is not such as that which is in a tree, wherein is neither understanding nor sense; nor such as is in a beast, for the life of a beast possesses the fivefold sense, but has no understanding. But the life which is God perceives and understands all things, and perceives by mind, not by body, because God is a spirit. And God does not perceive through a body, as animals do, which have bodies, for He does not consist of soul and body. And hence that single nature perceives as it understands, and understands as it perceives, and its sense and understanding are one and the same. Nor yet so, that at any time He should either cease or begin to be; for He is immortal. And it is not said of Him in vain, that He only has immortality. For immortality is true immortality in His case whose nature admits no change. That is also true eternity by which God is unchangeable, without beginning, without end; consequently also incorruptible. It is one and the same thing, therefore, to call God eternal, or immortal, or incorruptible, or unchangeable; and it is likewise one and the same thing to say that He is living, and that He is intelligent, that is, in truth, wise. For He did not receive wisdom whereby to be wise, but He is Himself wisdom. And this is life, and again is power or might, and yet again beauty, whereby He is called powerful and beautiful. For what is more powerful and more beautiful than wisdom, which reaches from end to end mightily, and sweetly disposes all things? Or do goodness, again, and righteousness, differ from each other in the nature of God, as they differ in His works, as though they were two diverse qualities of God — goodness one, and righteousness another? Certainly not; but that which is righteousness is also itself goodness; and that which is goodness is also itself blessedness. And God is therefore called incorporeal, that He may be believed and understood to be a spirit, not a body.

Further, if we say eternal, immortal, incorruptible, unchangeable, living, wise, powerful, beautiful, righteous, good, blessed spirit, only the last item in this list seems to signify substance, while the rest seem to signify qualities of that substance. But this is not the case with that ineffable and simple nature. For whatever seems to be predicated of it according to quality must be understood according to substance or essence. We must reject the idea of predicating spirit of God according to substance and good according to quality. Rather, both are predicated according to substance. The same applies to all the other terms we have mentioned, which we have already discussed at length in the earlier books. Let us then choose one from the first four in our list, that is, eternal, immortal, incorruptible, unchangeable. Since these four have the same meaning, as I have already argued, choosing one will prevent our attention from being scattered across multiple objects. Let us take the first one, eternal. Let us follow the same approach with the next four: living, wise, powerful, beautiful. Life in some form also belongs to animals, which lack wisdom. The next two, wisdom and might, are compared to each other in the case of humans, as Scripture says, Better is he that is wise than he that is strong. Beauty is also commonly attributed to physical objects. From these four, let us choose wise. This is not because these four are unequal when speaking of God, for they are four names but one reality. Regarding the third and final set of four, although being righteous is the same thing in God as being good or blessed, and being a spirit is the same as being righteous, good, and blessed, there is a difference in human beings. In humans there can be a spirit that is not blessed, and there can be one who is both righteous and good but not yet blessed. However, whatever is blessed is certainly righteous, good, and a spirit. Therefore, let us choose the one that cannot exist even in humans without the other three, namely blessed.

8. Further, if we say, Eternal, immortal, incorruptible, unchangeable, living, wise, powerful, beautiful, righteous, good, blessed spirit; only the last of this list as it were seems to signify substance, but the rest to signify qualities of that substance; but it is not so in that ineffable and simple nature. For whatever seems to be predicated therein according to quality, is to be understood according to substance or essence. For far be it from us to predicate spirit of God according to substance, and good according to quality; but both according to substance. And so in like manner of all those we have mentioned, of which we have already spoken at length in the former books. Let us choose, then, one of the first four of those in our enumeration and arrangement, i.e. eternal, immortal, incorruptible, unchangeable; since these four, as I have argued already, have one meaning; in order that our aim may not be distracted by a multiplicity of objects. And let it be rather that which was placed first, viz. eternal. Let us follow the same course with the four that come next, viz. living, wise, powerful, beautiful. And since life of some sort belongs also to the beast, which has not wisdom; while the next two, viz. wisdom and might, are so compared to one another in the case of man, as that Scripture says, Better is he that is wise than he that is strong; and beauty, again, is commonly attributed to bodily objects also: out of these four that we have chosen, let Wise be the one we take. Although these four are not to be called unequal in speaking of God; for they are four names, but one thing. But of the third and last four — although it is the same thing in God to be righteous that it is to be good or to be blessed; and the same thing to be a spirit that it is to be righteous, and good, and blessed; yet, because in men there can be a spirit that is not blessed, and there can be one both righteous and good, but not yet blessed; but that which is blessed is doubtless both just, and good, and a spirit, — let us rather choose that one which cannot exist even in men without the three others, viz. blessed.

When we say God is eternal, wise, and blessed, are these three the Trinity that is called God? We have reduced those twelve to this small number of three; but perhaps we can go further and reduce these three to one of them. For if wisdom and might, or life and wisdom, can be one and the same thing in the physis of God, why cannot eternity and wisdom, or blessedness and wisdom, be one and the same thing in the physis of God? And so, just as it made no difference whether we spoke of those twelve or those three when we reduced the many to the small number, it makes no difference whether we speak of those three or of that one, to which we have shown that the other two of the three may be reduced. What form of argument, what possible force and power of understanding, what liveliness of reason, what sharp-sightedness of thought, will set forth how (to pass over the others for now) this one thing, that God is called wisdom, is a trinity? For God does not receive wisdom from anyone as we receive it from Him, but He is Himself His own wisdom; because His wisdom is not one thing and His ousia another, seeing that for Him to be wise is to be. Christ, indeed, is called in the Holy Scriptures the power of God and the wisdom of God. But we have discussed in the seventh book how this is to be understood, so that the Son may not seem to make the Father wise; and our explanation came to this: that the Son is wisdom of wisdom, in the same way as He is light of light, God of God. Nor could we find the Holy Spirit to be in any other way than that He Himself also is wisdom, and altogether one wisdom, as one God, one ousia. How, then, do we understand this wisdom, which is God, to be a trinity? I do not say, How do we believe this? For among the faithful this ought to admit no question. But supposing there is any way by which we can see with the understanding what we believe, what is that way?

9. When, then, we say, Eternal, wise, blessed, are these three the Trinity that is called God? We reduce, indeed, those twelve to this small number of three; but perhaps we can go further, and reduce these three also to one of them. For if wisdom and might, or life and wisdom, can be one and the same thing in the nature of God, why cannot eternity and wisdom, or blessedness and wisdom, be one and the same thing in the nature of God? And hence, as it made no difference whether we spoke of these twelve or of those three when we reduced the many to the small number; so does it make no difference whether we speak of those three, or of that one, to the singularity of which we have shown that the other two of the three may be reduced. What fashion, then, of argument, what possible force and might of understanding, what liveliness of reason, what sharp-sightedness of thought, will set forth how (to pass over now the others) this one thing, that God is called wisdom, is a trinity? For God does not receive wisdom from any one as we receive it from Him, but He is Himself His own wisdom; because His wisdom is not one thing, and His essence another, seeing that to Him to be wise is to be. Christ, indeed, is called in the Holy Scriptures, the power of God, and the wisdom of God. But we have discussed in the seventh book how this is to be understood, so that the Son may not seem to make the Father wise; and our explanation came to this, that the Son is wisdom of wisdom, in the same way as He is light of light, God of God. Nor could we find the Holy Spirit to be in any other way than that He Himself also is wisdom, and altogether one wisdom, as one God, one essence. How, then, do we understand this wisdom, which is God, to be a trinity? I do not say, How do we believe this? For among the faithful this ought to admit no question. But supposing there is any way by which we can see with the understanding what we believe, what is that way?

When we think back to where a trinity first began to reveal itself to our understanding in these books, the eighth book comes to mind. There we tried our best to direct the mind's attention toward understanding that most excellent and unchangeable nature, which our mind is not. We contemplated this nature as being not far from us and yet above us—not in physical location but through its own awe-inspiring and wonderful excellence—in such a way that it seemed to be with us by its own present light. Yet even there, no trinity was yet clear to us, because in that blaze of light we did not keep the mind's eye steadily fixed on seeking it. We only perceived in a general way that there was no physical mass in which we would have to think that the size of two or three is greater than that of one. But when we came to discuss love, which in the Holy Scriptures is called God, then a trinity began to appear to us faintly: one who loves, that which is loved, and love itself. But because that ineffable light pushed back our gaze, and it became somewhat clear that the weakness of our mind could not yet be adjusted to it, we turned back in the middle of the course we had begun. We decided to follow the more familiar consideration of our own mind, according to which man is made after the image of God, in order to relieve our overstrained attention. From the ninth to the fourteenth book we dwelt on the consideration of the creature that we are, so that we might be able to understand and see the invisible things of God through the things that are made. Now that we have exercised our understanding in lower things as much as was needed, or perhaps more than was needed, we wish to raise ourselves to see that highest Trinity which is God, but we lack the strength. We see absolutely certain trinities—whether those produced from outside by physical things, or when these same things are thought about after being perceived from outside; or when things that originate in the mind and do not relate to the body's senses, such as faith or the virtues that make up the art of living, are discerned by clear reason and held fast by knowledge; or when the mind itself, by which we know whatever we truly say we know, knows itself or thinks about itself; or when the mind sees something eternal and unchangeable that it itself is not. But do we see the Trinity that is God in the same way we see these absolutely certain trinities (because they are produced in us or are in us when we remember, observe, or desire these things)? Do we see the Trinity that is God because there too we perceive through understanding both Him as if speaking and His Word (that is, the Father and the Son), and then, following from there, the love common to both, namely the Holy Spirit? Do we actually see these trinities that belong to our senses or our mind, or do we rather believe them? And do we rather believe than see that God is a trinity? But if this is the case, then either we do not at all understand and see the invisible things of God through the things that are made, or if we see them at all, we do not see the Trinity in them. In this there is something to see and something we ought to believe, even if not seen. Just as the eighth book showed that we see the unchangeable good which we are not, so the fourteenth book reminded us of this when we discussed the wisdom that man has from God. Why then do we not recognize the Trinity in it? Does that wisdom which God is said to be not perceive itself and not love itself? Who would say this? Who does not see that where there is no knowledge, there is certainly no wisdom? Or are we really to think that the Wisdom which is God knows other things but does not know itself, or loves other things but does not love itself? But if this is a foolish and impious thing to say or believe, then look, we have a trinity: wisdom, the knowledge wisdom has of itself, and its love of itself. For we also find a trinity in man in the same way: mind, the knowledge by which the mind knows itself, and the love by which it loves itself.

10. For if we recall where it was in these books that a trinity first began to show itself to our understanding, the eighth book is that which occurs to us; since it was there that to the best of our power we tried to raise the aim of the mind to understand that most excellent and unchangeable nature, which our mind is not. And we so contemplated this nature as to think of it as not far from us, and as above us, not in place, but by its own awful and wonderful excellence, and in such wise that it appeared to be with us by its own present light. Yet in this no trinity was yet manifest to us, because in that blaze of light we did not keep the eye of the mind steadfastly bent upon seeking it; only we discerned it in a sense, because there was no bulk wherein we must needs think the magnitude of two or three to be more than that of one. But when we came to treat of love, which in the Holy Scriptures is called God, then a trinity began to dawn upon us a little, i.e. one that loves, and that which is loved, and love. But because that ineffable light beat back our gaze, and it became in some degree plain that the weakness of our mind could not as yet be tempered to it, we turned back in the midst of the course we had begun, and planned according to the (as it were) more familiar consideration of our own mind, according to which man is made after the image of God, in order to relieve our overstrained attention; and thereupon we dwelt from the ninth to the fourteenth book upon the consideration of the creature, which we are, that we might be able to understand and behold the invisible things of God by those things which are made. And now that we have exercised the understanding, as far as was needful, or perhaps more than was needful, in lower things, lo! We wish, but have not strength, to raise ourselves to behold that highest Trinity which is God. For in such manner as we see most undoubted trinities, whether those which are wrought from without by corporeal things, or when these same things are thought of which were perceived from without; or when those things which take their rise in the mind, and do not pertain to the senses of the body, as faith, or as the virtues which comprise the art of living, are discerned by manifest reason, and, held fast by knowledge; or when the mind itself, by which we know whatever we truly say that we know, is known to itself, or thinks of itself; or when that mind beholds anything eternal and unchangeable, which itself is not — in such way, then, I say, as we see in all these instances most undoubted trinities, because they are wrought in ourselves, or are in ourselves, when we remember, look at, or desire these things — do we, I say, in such manner also see the Trinity that is God; because there also, by the understanding, we behold both Him as it were speaking, and His Word, i.e. the Father and the Son; and then, proceeding thence, the love common to both, namely, the Holy Spirit? These trinities that pertain to our senses or to our mind, do we rather see than believe them, but rather believe than see that God is a trinity? But if this is so, then doubtless we either do not at all understand and behold the invisible things of God by those things that are made, or if we behold them at all, we do not behold the Trinity in them; and there is therein somewhat to behold, and somewhat also which we ought to believe, even though not beheld. And as the eighth book showed that we behold the unchangeable good which we are not, so the fourteenth reminded us thereof, when we spoke of the wisdom that man has from God. Why, then, do we not recognize the Trinity therein? Does that wisdom which God is said to be, not perceive itself, and not love itself? Who would say this? Or who is there that does not see, that where there is no knowledge, there in no way is there wisdom? Or are we, in truth, to think that the Wisdom which is God knows other things, and does not know itself; or loves other things, and does not love itself? But if this is a foolish and impious thing to say or believe, then behold we have a trinity — to wit, wisdom, and the knowledge wisdom has of itself, and its love of itself. For so, too, we find a trinity in man also, i.e. mind, and the knowledge wherewith mind knows itself, and the love wherewith it loves itself.

But these three exist in a person in such a way that they are not themselves the person. For a human being, as the ancients defined it, is a rational mortal animal. These three things, therefore, are the chief things in a human being, but they are not the human being itself. And any one person, that is, each individual human being, has these three things in his mind. But if, again, we were to define a human being by saying that a human being is a rational substance consisting of mind and body, then without doubt a human being has a soul that is not body, and a body that is not soul. And so these three things are not the human being, but belong to the human being, or are in the human being. If, again, we set aside the body and think of the soul by itself, the mind is something belonging to the soul, as though its head, or eye, or face; but these things are not to be regarded as bodies. It is not then the soul, but that which is chief in the soul, that is called the mind. But can we say that the Trinity exists in God in such a way as to be something belonging to God, and not itself God? And so each individual human being, who is called the image of God, not according to all things that pertain to his nature, but according to his mind alone, is one person, and is an image of the Trinity in his mind. But that Trinity of which he is the image is nothing else in its totality than God, is nothing else in its totality than the Trinity. Nor does anything pertain to the nature of God so as not to pertain to that Trinity; and the Three Persons are of one essence, not as each individual human being is one person.

11. But these three are in such way in man, that they are not themselves man. For man, as the ancients defined him, is a rational mortal animal. These things, therefore, are the chief things in man, but are not man themselves. And any one person, i.e. each individual man, has these three things in his mind. But if, again, we were so to define man as to say, Man is a rational substance consisting of mind and body, then without doubt man has a soul that is not body, and a body that is not soul. And hence these three things are not man, but belong to man, or are in man. If, again, we put aside the body, and think of the soul by itself, the mind is somewhat belonging to the soul, as though its head, or eye, or countenance; but these things are not to be regarded as bodies. It is not then the soul, but that which is chief in the soul, that is called the mind. But can we say that the Trinity is in such way in God, as to be somewhat belonging to God, and not itself God? And hence each individual man, who is called the image of God, not according to all things that pertain to his nature, but according to his mind alone, is one person, and is an image of the Trinity in his mind. But that Trinity of which he is the image is nothing else in its totality than God, is nothing else in its totality than the Trinity. Nor does anything pertain to the nature of God so as not to pertain to that Trinity; and the Three Persons are of one essence, not as each individual man is one person.

There is also a significant difference in another respect: whether we speak of the mind in a human being along with its knowledge and love, or of memory, understanding, and will, we remember nothing of the mind except through memory, understand nothing except through understanding, and love nothing except through will. But in that Trinity, who would dare to say that the Father understands neither himself nor the Son nor the Holy Spirit except through the Son, or loves them except through the Holy Spirit, and that he remembers only through himself either himself or the Son or the Holy Spirit? And likewise, that the Son remembers neither himself nor the Father except through the Father, and loves them only through the Holy Spirit, but through himself only understands both the Father and Son and Holy Spirit? And similarly, that the Holy Spirit through the Father remembers both the Father and the Son and himself, and through the Son understands both the Father and the Son and himself, but through himself only loves both himself and the Father and the Son—as though the Father were both his own memory and that of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, the Son were the understanding of both himself and the Father and the Holy Spirit, but the Holy Spirit were the love both of himself and of the Father and of the Son? Who would dare to think or affirm this about that Trinity? For if in it the Son alone understands both for himself and for the Father and for the Holy Spirit, we have returned to the old absurdity that the Father is not wise from himself but from the Son, and that wisdom has not begotten wisdom, but that the Father is called wise by the wisdom which he begot. For where there is no understanding there can be no wisdom. Therefore, if the Father does not understand himself for himself, but the Son understands for the Father, then clearly the Son makes the Father wise. But if for God to be is to be wise, and essence is the same to him as wisdom, then it is not the Son who has his essence from the Father (which is the truth), but rather the Father from the Son (which is a completely absurd falsehood). We have certainly discussed, disproved, and rejected this absurdity in the seventh book. Therefore, God the Father is wise by that wisdom by which he is his own wisdom, and the Son is the wisdom of the Father from the wisdom which is the Father, from whom the Son is begotten. It follows that the Father also understands by that understanding by which he is his own understanding (for he could not be wise if he did not understand), and that the Son is the understanding of the Father, begotten of the understanding which is the Father. The same may also be appropriately said of memory. For how is someone wise who remembers nothing or does not remember himself? Accordingly, since the Father is wisdom and the Son is wisdom, therefore just as the Father remembers himself, so does the Son also remember himself. And just as the Father remembers both himself and the Son not by the memory of the Son but by his own, so does the Son remember both himself and the Father not by the memory of the Father but by his own. Again, where there is no love, who would say there is any wisdom? Therefore we must conclude that the Father is his own love in the same way that he is his own understanding and memory. Consequently, these three—memory, understanding, and love or will—in that highest and unchangeable essence which is God are not the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, but the Father alone. And because the Son too is wisdom begotten of wisdom, just as neither the Father nor the Holy Spirit understands for him but he understands for himself, so neither does the Father remember for him nor does the Holy Spirit love for him, but he remembers and loves for himself, for he is himself also his own memory, his own understanding, and his own love. But that he is so comes to him from the Father, from whom he is born. And because the Holy Spirit also is wisdom proceeding from wisdom, he too does not have the Father as a memory, the Son as an understanding, and himself as love. For he would not be wisdom if another remembered for him and yet another understood for him while he only loved for himself. Rather, he himself has all three things, and has them in such a way that they are himself. But that he is so comes to him from the source from which he proceeds.

12. There is, again, a wide difference in this point likewise, that whether we speak of the mind in a man, and of its knowledge and love; or of memory, understanding, will, — we remember nothing of the mind except by memory, nor understand anything except by understanding, nor love anything except by will. But in that Trinity, who would dare to say that the Father understands neither Himself, nor the Son, nor the Holy Spirit, except by the Son, or loves them except by the Holy Spirit; and that He remembers only by Himself either Himself, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit; and in the same way that the Son remembers neither Himself nor the Father, except by the Father, nor loves them except by the Holy Spirit; but that by Himself He only understands both the Father and Son and Holy Spirit: and in like manner, that the Holy Spirit by the Father remembers both the Father and the Son and Himself, and by the Son understands both the Father and the Son and Himself; but by Himself only loves both Himself and the Father and the Son;– as though the Father were both His own memory, and that of the Son and of the Holy Spirit; and the Son were the understanding of both Himself, and the Father and the Holy Spirit; but the Holy Spirit were the love both of Himself, and of the Father and of the Son? Who would presume to think or affirm this of that Trinity? For if therein the Son alone understands both for Himself and for the Father and for the Holy Spirit, we have returned to the old absurdity, that the Father is not wise from Himself, but from the Son, and that wisdom has not begotten wisdom, but that the Father is said to be wise by that wisdom which He begot. For where there is no understanding there can be no wisdom; and hence, if the Father does not understand Himself for Himself, but the Son understands for the Father, assuredly the Son makes the Father wise. But if to God to be is to be wise, and essence is to Him the same as wisdom, then it is not the Son that has His essence from the Father, which is the truth, but rather the Father from the Son, which is a most absurd falsehood. And this absurdity, beyond all doubt, we have discussed, disproved, and rejected, in the seventh book. Therefore God the Father is wise by that wisdom by which He is His own wisdom, and the Son is the wisdom of the Father from the wisdom which is the Father, from whom the Son is begotten; whence it follows that the Father understands also by that understanding by which He is His own understanding (for he could not be Wise that did not understand); and that the Son is the understanding of the Father, begotten of the understanding which is the Father. And this same may not be unfitly said of memory also. For how is he wise, that remembers nothing, or does not remember himself? Accordingly, since the Father is wisdom, and the Son is wisdom, therefore, as the Father remembers Himself, so does the Son also remember Himself; and as the Father remembers both Himself and the Son, not by the memory of the Son, but by His own, so does the Son remember both Himself and the Father, not by the memory of the Father, but by His own. Where, again, there is no love, who would say there was any wisdom? And hence we must infer that the Father is in such way His own love, as He is His own understanding and memory. And therefore these three, i.e. memory, understanding, love or will in that highest and unchangeable essence which is God, are, we see, not the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, but the Father alone. And because the Son too is wisdom begotten of wisdom, as neither the Father nor the Holy Spirit understands for Him, but He understands for Himself; so neither does the Father remember for Him, nor the Holy Spirit love for Him, but He remembers and loves for Himself: for He is Himself also His own memory, His own understanding, and His own love. But that He is so comes to Him from the Father, of whom He is born. And because the Holy Spirit also is wisdom proceeding from wisdom, He too has not the Father for a memory, and the Son for an understanding, and Himself for love: for He would not be wisdom if another remembered for Him, and yet another understood for Him, and He only loved for Himself; but Himself has all three things, and has them in such way that they are Himself. But that He is so comes to Him thence, whence He proceeds.

What person, then, can understand that wisdom by which God knows all things in such a way that neither what we call past things are past in it, nor what we call future things are awaited in it as though they were absent, but both past and future together with present things are all present? Nor are things thought about one at a time, so that thought moves from one thing to another, but all things are simultaneously present in one single act of seeing. What person, I ask, can understand this wisdom, and the equivalent prudence, and the equivalent knowledge, when even our own wisdom is beyond our understanding? For somehow we are able to perceive things that are present to our senses or to our understanding. But things that are absent, yet were once present, we know through memory, if we haven't forgotten them. We also make guesses—not about the past from the future, but about the future from the past—yet through entirely unstable knowledge. For there are some of our thoughts about future things that we look ahead to with greater clarity and certainty because they are very near. We do this by means of memory when we are able to, as much as we ever can, even though memory seems to relate not to the future but to the past. This can be tested with any words or songs whose proper sequence we are producing from memory. We certainly wouldn't speak each part in order unless we anticipated in thought what comes next. Yet it isn't foresight but memory that enables us to foresee it, because right up to the end of the words or song, nothing is spoken except as anticipated and looked forward to. Yet in doing this, we aren't said to speak or sing by foresight, but by memory. And if anyone is unusually capable of delivering many pieces this way, he is typically praised not for his foresight but for his memory. We know and are absolutely certain that all this happens in our mind or through our mind. But the more carefully we try to examine how it happens, the more both our very words fail and our purpose itself collapses when we try to reach some clarity through our understanding, if not our tongue. And do people like us think that in such great weakness of mind we can understand whether God's foresight is the same as His memory and His understanding—He who does not consider each individual thing in thought, but holds everything He knows in one eternal, unchangeable, and inexpressible vision? In this difficulty and tight place, then, we may well cry out to the living God: Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is too high, I cannot reach it. For I understand from my own experience how wonderful and incomprehensible is Your knowledge by which You made me, when I cannot even understand myself whom You have made! And yet, while I was meditating, the fire burned, so that I seek Your face always.

13. What man, then, is there who can comprehend that wisdom by which God knows all things, in such wise that neither what we call things past are past therein, nor what we call things future are therein waited for as coming, as though they were absent, but both past and future with things present are all present; nor yet are things thought severally, so that thought passes from one to another, but all things simultaneously are at hand in one glance — what man, I say, is there that comprehends that wisdom, and the like prudence, and the like knowledge, since in truth even our own wisdom is beyond our comprehension? For somehow we are able to behold the things that are present to our senses or to our understanding; but the things that are absent, and yet have once been present, we know by memory, if we have not forgotten them. And we conjecture, too, not the past from the future, but the future from the past, yet by all unstable knowledge. For there are some of our thoughts to which, although future, we, as it were, look onward with greater plainness and certainty as being very near; and we do this by the means of memory when we are able to do it, as much as we ever are able, although memory seems to belong not to the future, but to the past. And this may be tried in the case of any words or songs, the due order of which we are rendering by memory; for we certainly should not utter each in succession, unless we foresaw in thought what came next. And yet it is not foresight, but memory, that enables us to foresee it; for up to the very end of the words or the song, nothing is uttered except as foreseen and looked forward to. And yet in doing this, we are not said to speak or sing by foresight, but by memory; and if any one is more than commonly capable of uttering many pieces in this way, he is usually praised, not for his foresight, but for his memory. We know, and are absolutely certain, that all this takes place in our mind or by our mind; but how it takes place, the more attentively we desire to scrutinize, the more do both our very words break down, and our purpose itself fails, when by our understanding, if not our tongue, we would reach to something of clearness. And do such as we are, think, that in so great infirmity of mind we can comprehend whether the foresight of God is the same as His memory and His understanding, who does not regard in thought each several thing, but embraces all that He knows in one eternal and unchangeable and ineffable vision? In this difficulty, then, and strait, we may well cry out to the living God, Such knowledge is too wonderful for me: it is high, I cannot attain unto it. For I understand by myself how wonderful and incomprehensible is Your knowledge, by which You made me, when I cannot even comprehend myself whom You have made! And yet, while I was musing, the fire burned, so that I seek Your face evermore.

I know that wisdom is an incorporeal substance, and that it is the light by which things not seen by physical eyes are seen. Yet a man as great and spiritual as Paul says, We see now through a glass, in an enigma, but then face to face. If we ask what this glass is and what it is like, this surely comes to mind: that in a glass nothing is seen except an image. We have tried, then, to see in some way through this image that we are, the One by whom we were made, as through a glass. This is also indicated in the words of the same apostle: But we with unveiled face, beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are transformed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord. He says beholding as in a glass, meaning seeing by means of a glass, not looking from a watchtower—an ambiguity that does not exist in Greek, from which the apostolic letters have been translated into Latin. In Greek, a glass in which images of things are visible is completely distinct in sound from a watchtower, from whose height we can see farther. It is quite clear that the apostle, in using the word speculantes regarding the glory of the Lord, meant it to come from speculum and not from specula. But where he says, We are transformed into the same image, he certainly means the image of God. By calling it the same, he means that very image which we see in the glass, because that same image is also the glory of the Lord. As he says elsewhere, For a man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God—a text already discussed in the twelfth book. By We are transformed, he means we are changed from one form to another, and we pass from an obscure form to a bright form. The obscure form is also the image of God, and if an image, then certainly also glory, in which we are created as human beings, superior to other animals. For it is said of human nature itself, The man ought not to cover his head, because he is the image and glory of God. This nature, being the most excellent among created things, is transformed from a defaced form to a beautiful form when it is justified by its Creator from ungodliness. Even in ungodliness itself, the more the fault deserves condemnation, the more certainly the nature deserves praise. Therefore he has added, from glory to glory: from the glory of creation to the glory of justification. Although these words, from glory to glory, can also be understood in other ways—from the glory of faith to the glory of sight, from the glory by which we are sons of God to the glory by which we will be like Him, because we will see Him as He is. But in adding as from the Spirit of the Lord, he declares that the blessing of such a desirable transformation is given to us by the grace of God.

14. I know that wisdom is an incorporeal substance, and that it is the light by which those things are seen that are not seen by carnal eyes; and yet a man so great and so spiritual [as Paul] says, We see now through a glass, in an enigma, but then face to face. If we ask what and of what sort is this glass, this assuredly occurs to our minds, that in a glass nothing is discerned but an image. We have endeavored, then, so to do; in order that we might see in some way or other by this image which we are, Him by whom we are made, as by a glass. And this is intimated also in the words of the same apostle: But we with open face, beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are transformed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord. Beholding as in a glass, he has said, i.e. seeing by means of a glass, not looking from a watchtower: an ambiguity that does not exist in the Greek language, whence the apostolic epistles have been rendered into Latin. For in Greek, a glass, in which the images of things are visible, is wholly distinct in the sound of the word also from a watchtower, from the height of which we command a more distant view. And it is quite plain that the apostle, in using the word speculantes in respect to the glory of the Lord, meant it to come from speculum, not from specula. But where he says, We are transformed into the same image, he assuredly means to speak of the image of God; and by calling it the same, he means that very image which we see in the glass, because that same image is also the glory of the Lord; as he says elsewhere, For a man indeed ought not to cover his head, forasmuch as he is the image and glory of God, — a text already discussed in the twelfth book. He means, then, by We are transformed, that we are changed from one form to another, and that we pass from a form that is obscure to a form that is bright: since the obscure form, too, is the image of God; and if an image, then assuredly also glory, in which we are created as men, being better than the other animals. For it is said of human nature in itself, The man ought not to cover his head, because he is the image and glory of God. And this nature, being the most excellent among things created, is transformed from a form that is defaced into a form that is beautiful, when it is justified by its own Creator from ungodliness. Since even in ungodliness itself, the more the faultiness is to be condemned, the more certainly is the nature to be praised. And therefore he has added, from glory to glory: from the glory of creation to the glory of justification. Although these words, from glory to glory, may be understood also in other ways — from the glory of faith to the glory of sight, from the glory whereby we are sons of God to the glory whereby we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is. But in that he has added as from the Spirit of the Lord, he declares that the blessing of so desirable a transformation is conferred upon us by the grace of God.

What has been said relates to the apostle's words that we now see through a glass. But regarding his addition "in an enigma," the meaning of this phrase is unknown to anyone unfamiliar with the books that contain the teaching about those modes of speech that the Greeks call Tropes—a Greek word we also use in Latin. Just as we more commonly speak of schemata rather than figures, we more commonly speak of tropes rather than modes. It is very difficult and unusual to express the names of the various modes or tropes in Latin in a way that assigns the proper name to each one. Some Latin translators, unwilling to use a Greek word where the apostle says "Which things are an allegory," have rendered it through a roundabout expression: "Which things signify one thing by another." But there are several species of this kind of trope called allegory, and one of them is what is called enigma. Now the definition of the general term must necessarily include all its species. Therefore, just as every horse is an animal but not every animal is a horse, every enigma is an allegory, but not every allegory is an enigma. What then is an allegory except a trope in which one thing is understood from another? For example, in the Epistle to the Thessalonians: "Let us not therefore sleep, as do others; but let us watch and be sober: for they who sleep, sleep in the night; and they who are drunken, are drunken in the night: but let us who are of the day, be sober." This allegory is not an enigma, for here the meaning is clear to everyone except the very dull. But an enigma is, to explain briefly, an obscure allegory, such as "The horseleech had three daughters" and other similar instances. However, when the apostle spoke of an allegory, he does not find it in the words but in the fact, since he has shown that the two Testaments are to be understood through the two sons of Abraham—one by a bondmaid and the other by a free woman—which was something not merely said but actually done. Before this was explained, it was obscure, and accordingly such an allegory, which is the general name, could be specifically called an enigma.

15. What has been said relates to the words of the apostle, that we see now through a glass; but whereas he has added, in an enigma, the meaning of this addition is unknown to any who are unacquainted with the books that contain the doctrine of those modes of speech, which the Greeks call Tropes, which Greek word we also use in Latin. For as we more commonly speak of schemata than of figures, so we more commonly speak of tropes than of modes. And it is a very difficult and uncommon thing to express the names of the several modes or tropes in Latin, so as to refer its appropriate name to each. And hence some Latin translators, through unwillingness to employ a Greek word, where the apostle says, Which things are an allegory, have rendered it by a circumlocution — Which things signify one thing by another. But there are several species of this kind of trope that is called allegory, and one of them is that which is called enigma. Now the definition of the generic term must necessarily embrace also all its species; and hence, as every horse is an animal, but not every animal is a horse, so every enigma is an allegory, but every allegory is not an enigma. What then is an allegory, but a trope wherein one thing is understood from another? As in the Epistle to the Thessalonians, Let us not therefore sleep, as do others; but let us watch and be sober: for they who sleep, sleep in the night; and they who are drunken, are drunken in the night: but let us who are of the day, be sober. But this allegory is not an enigma. for here the meaning is patent to all but the very dull; but an enigma is, to explain it briefly, an obscure allegory, as, e.g., The horseleech had three daughters, and other like instances. But when the apostle spoke of an allegory, he does not find it in the words, but in the fact; since he has shown that the two Testaments are to be understood by the two sons of Abraham, one by a bondmaid, and the other by a free woman, which was a thing not said, but also done. And before this was explained, it was obscure; and accordingly such an allegory, which is the generic name, could be specifically called an enigma.

But it's not only those who are unfamiliar with books about tropes who want to know what the apostle meant when he said we now see in an enigma—even those who know about tropes still want to understand what that enigma is in which we now see. We need to find one unified meaning for both phrases: "we see now through a glass" and "in an enigma." These form one complete sentence when spoken together as "We see now through a glass in an enigma." As I understand it, just as the word "glass" signifies an image, so "enigma" signifies any kind of likeness you choose, but one that is obscure and difficult to perceive. Therefore, while the apostle's mention of glass and enigma can refer to any likenesses that help us understand God as far as He can be understood, nothing serves this purpose better than what is rightly called His image. No one should be surprised that we struggle to see in whatever way is granted to us in this life—that is, through a glass, in an enigma. We wouldn't be told about an enigma here if seeing were easy. And this is an even greater enigma: that we do not see what we cannot help but see. For who does not see his own thought? And yet who does see his own thought—I don't mean with physical eyes, but with inner sight itself? Who doesn't see it, and who does see it? Thought is a kind of seeing by the mind, whether it involves things that are also seen by bodily eyes or perceived by other senses, or things that are absent but whose likenesses are grasped by thought, or things that are neither bodily nor likenesses of bodily things (such as virtues and vices, or indeed thought itself), or things that are the subjects of instruction and the liberal sciences, or the higher causes and principles of all these things in the unchangeable nature, or even evil, vain, and false things we think about, whether our senses withhold consent or mistakenly give it.

16. But because it is not only those that are ignorant of the books that contain the doctrine of tropes, who inquire the apostle's meaning, when he said that we see now in an enigma, but those, too, who are acquainted with the doctrine, but yet desire to know what that enigma is in which we now see; we must find a single meaning for the two phrases, viz. for that which says, we see now through a glass, and for that which adds, in an enigma. For it makes but one sentence, when the whole is so uttered, We see now through a glass in an enigma. Accordingly, as far as my judgment goes, as by the word glass he meant to signify an image, so by that of enigma any likeness you will, but yet one obscure, and difficult to see through. While, therefore, any likenesses whatever may be understood as signified by the apostle when he speaks of a glass and an enigma, so that they are adapted to the understanding of God, in such way as He can be understood; yet nothing is better adapted to this purpose than that which is not vainly called His image. Let no one, then, wonder, that we labor to see in any way at all, even in that fashion of seeing which is granted to us in this life, viz. through a glass, in an enigma. For we should not hear of an enigma in this place if sight were easy. And this is a yet greater enigma, that we do not see what we cannot but see. For who does not see his own thought? And yet who does see his own thought, I do not say with the eye of the flesh, but with the inner sight itself? Who does not see it, and who does see it? Since thought is a kind of sight of the mind; whether those things are present which are seen also by the bodily eyes, or perceived by the other senses; or whether they are not present, but their likenesses are discerned by thought; or whether neither of these is the case, but things are thought of that are neither bodily things nor likenesses of bodily things, as the virtues and vices; or as, indeed, thought itself is thought of; or whether it be those things which are the subjects of instruction and of liberal sciences; or whether the higher causes and reasons themselves of all these things in the unchangeable nature are thought of; or whether it be even evil, and vain, and false things that we are thinking of, with either the sense not consenting, or erring in its consent.

But let us now speak of those things we think of as known and have in our knowledge even when we do not think of them. Whether they belong to contemplative knowledge, which, as I have argued, is properly called wisdom, or to active knowledge, which is properly called knowledge—both together belong to one mind and are one image of God. But when we treat the lower of the two distinctly and separately, it is not to be called an image of God, although even then some likeness of that Trinity may be found in it, as we showed in the thirteenth book. We speak now, therefore, of the entire knowledge of man altogether, in which whatever is known to us is known—that, at any rate, which is true. Otherwise it would not be known. For no one knows what is false, except when he knows it to be false, and if he knows this, then he knows what is true, for it is true that that is false. We treat, therefore, now of those things we think of as known and which are known to us even if they are not being thought of. But certainly, if we wish to express them in words, we can only do so by thinking them. For although no words are spoken, at any rate, he who thinks speaks in his heart. And hence that passage in the book of Wisdom: "They said within themselves, thinking not aright." For the words "They said within themselves" are explained by the addition of "thinking." A similar passage to this is that in the Gospel—when certain scribes heard the Lord's words to the paralytic man, "Be of good cheer, my son, your sins are forgiven you," they said within themselves, "This man blasphemes." For how did they say within themselves, except by thinking? Then follows, "And when Jesus saw their thoughts, He said, Why do you think evil in your thoughts?" So far Matthew. But Luke narrates the same thing thus: "The scribes and Pharisees began to think, saying, Who is this that speaks blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God alone? But when Jesus perceived their thoughts, He, answering, said to them, What do you think in your hearts?" What in the book of Wisdom is "They said, thinking" is the same here with "They thought, saying." For both there and here it is declared that they spoke within themselves and in their own heart, that is, spoke by thinking. For they spoke within themselves, and it was said to them, "What do you think?" And the Lord Himself says of that rich man whose ground brought forth plentifully, "And he thought within himself, saying."

17. But let us now speak of those things of which we think as known, and have in our knowledge even if we do not think of them; whether they belong to the contemplative knowledge, which, as I have argued, is properly to be called wisdom, or to the active which is properly to be called knowledge. For both together belong to one mind, and are one image of God. But when we treat of the lower of the two distinctly and separately, then it is not to be called an image of God, although even then, too, some likeness of that Trinity may be found in it; as we showed in the thirteenth book. We speak now, therefore, of the entire knowledge of man altogether, in which whatever is known to us is known; that, at any rate, which is true; otherwise it would not be known. For no one knows what is false, except when he knows it to be false; and if he knows this, then he knows what is true: for it is true that that is false. We treat, therefore, now of those things which we think as known, and which are known to us even if they are not being thought of. But certainly, if we would utter them in words, we can only do so by thinking them. For although there were no words spoken, at any rate, he who thinks speaks in his heart. And hence that passage in the book of Wisdom: They said within themselves, thinking not aright. For the words, They said within themselves, are explained by the addition of thinking. A like passage to this is that in the Gospel — that certain scribes, when they heard the Lord's words to the paralytic man, Be of good cheer, my son, your sins are forgiven you, said within themselves, This man blasphemes. For how did they say within themselves, except by thinking? Then follows, And when Jesus saw their thoughts, He said, Why do you think evil in your thoughts? So far Matthew. But Luke narrates the same thing thus: The scribes and Pharisees began to think, saying, Who is this that speaks blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God alone? But when Jesus perceived their thoughts, He, answering, said to them, What think ye in your hearts? That which in the book of Wisdom is, They said, thinking, is the same here with, They thought, saying. For both there and here it is declared, that they spoke within themselves, and in their own heart, i.e. spoke by thinking. For they spoke within themselves, and it was said to them, What do you think? And the Lord Himself says of that rich man whose ground brought forth plentifully, And he thought within himself, saying.

Some thoughts, then, are speeches of the heart, and here the Lord also shows that there is a mouth when He says, "Not that which enters into the mouth defiles a man, but that which proceeds out of the mouth, that defiles a man." In one sentence He has included two different mouths of the man—one of the body, one of the heart. For certainly, that from which they thought the man would be defiled enters into the mouth of the body, but that from which the Lord said the man was defiled proceeds out of the mouth of the heart. He Himself clearly explained what He had said. A little later, He also says to His disciples concerning the same thing: "Are you also yet without understanding? Do you not understand that whatever enters in at the mouth goes into the belly and is cast out into the draught?" Here He most certainly pointed to the mouth of the body. But in what follows He plainly speaks of the mouth of the heart, where He says, "But those things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart, and they defile the man. For out of the heart proceed evil thoughts," and so on. What could be clearer than this explanation? Yet when we call thoughts speeches of the heart, it does not follow that they are not also acts of sight arising from the sight of knowledge when they are true. For when these things are done outwardly by means of the body, then speech and sight are different things. But when we think inwardly, the two are one—just as sight and hearing are two things mutually distinct in the bodily senses, but to see and to hear are the same thing in the mind. And so, while speech is not seen but rather heard outwardly, yet the inward speeches—that is, thoughts—are said by the holy Gospel to have been seen, not heard, by the Lord. "They said within themselves, 'This man blasphemes,'" says the Gospel, and then it adds, "And when Jesus saw their thoughts." Therefore He saw what they said, for by His own thought He saw their thoughts, which they supposed no one saw but themselves.

18. Some thoughts, then, are speeches of the heart, wherein the Lord also shows that there is a mouth, when He says, Not that which enters into the mouth defiles a man; but that which proceeds out of the mouth, that defiles a man. In one sentence He has comprised two diverse mouths of the man, one of the body, one of the heart. For assuredly, that from which they thought the man to be defiled, enters into the mouth of the body; but that from which the Lord said the man was defiled, proceeds out of the mouth of the heart. So certainly He Himself explained what He had said. For a little after, He says also to His disciples concerning the same thing: Are ye also yet without understanding? Do you not understand, that whatever enters in at the mouth goes into the belly, and is cast out into the draught? Here He most certainly pointed to the mouth of the body. But in that which follows He plainly speaks of the mouth of the heart, where He says, But those things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart; and they defile the man. For out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, etc. What is clearer than this explanation? And yet, when we call thoughts speeches of the heart, it does not follow that they are not also acts of sight, arising from the sight of knowledge, when they are true. For when these things are done outwardly by means of the body, then speech and sight are different things; but when we think inwardly, the two are one — just as sight and hearing are two things mutually distinct in the bodily senses, but to see and hear are the same thing in the mind; and hence, while speech is not seen but rather heard outwardly, yet the inward speeches, i.e. thoughts, are said by the holy Gospel to have been seen, not heard, by the Lord. They said within themselves, This man blasphemes, says the Gospel; and then subjoined, And when Jesus saw their thoughts. Therefore He saw, what they said. For by His own thought He saw their thoughts, which they supposed no one saw but themselves.

Anyone who can grasp what a word is, not only before it is spoken aloud, but even before the mental images of its sounds are contemplated in thought—for this belongs to no particular language, including those called the languages of nations, of which our Latin is one—anyone, I say, who can grasp this is now able to see through this glass and in this enigma some likeness of that Word about whom it is said, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." For necessarily, when we speak the truth, that is, when we speak what we know, a word is born from the very knowledge that the memory holds, and this word is entirely of the same kind as the knowledge from which it is born. The thought that is formed from the thing we know is the word we speak in our heart, and this word is neither Greek nor Latin nor of any other language. But when we need to communicate this to those we are speaking with, we adopt some sign to convey it. Usually a sound, sometimes a gesture, is presented—the former to the ears, the latter to the eyes—so that the word we carry in our mind may also become known through bodily signs to the bodily senses. For what is nodding or gesturing except a kind of speaking to the sight? Holy Scripture confirms this, for we read in the Gospel according to John: "Verily, verily, I say to you, that one of you will betray me. Then the disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he spoke. Now one of his disciples, whom Jesus loved, was reclining on Jesus' breast. Simon Peter therefore gestures to him and says to him, 'Who is it of whom he speaks?'" Here he spoke by gesturing what he did not dare to speak with sounds. But whereas we present these and similar bodily signs to the ears or eyes of people who are present when we speak, letters have been invented so that we might also communicate with those who are absent; but these are signs of words, just as words themselves are signs in our speech of the things we think.

19. Whoever, then, is able to understand a word, not only before it is uttered in sound, but also before the images of its sounds are considered in thought — for this it is which belongs to no tongue, to wit, of those which are called the tongues of nations, of which our Latin tongue is one — whoever, I say, is able to understand this, is able now to see through this glass and in this enigma some likeness of that Word of whom it is said, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. For of necessity, when we speak what is true, i.e. speak what we know, there is born from the knowledge itself which the memory retains, a word that is altogether of the same kind with that knowledge from which it is born. For the thought that is formed by the thing which we know, is the word which we speak in the heart: which word is neither Greek nor Latin, nor of any other tongue. But when it is needful to convey this to the knowledge of those to whom we speak, then some sign is assumed whereby to signify it. And generally a sound, sometimes a nod, is exhibited, the former to the ears, the latter to the eyes, that the word which we bear in our mind may become known also by bodily signs to the bodily senses. For what is to nod or beckon, except to speak in some way to the sight? And Holy Scripture gives its testimony to this; for we read in the Gospel according to John: Verily, verily, I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me. Then the disciples looked one upon another, doubting of whom He spoke. Now there was leaning on Jesus' breast one of His disciples whom Jesus loved. Simon Peter therefore beckons to him, and says to him, Who is it of whom He speaks? Here he spoke by beckoning what he did not venture to speak by sounds. But whereas we exhibit these and the like bodily signs either to ears or eyes of persons present to whom we speak, letters have been invented that we might be able to converse also with the absent; but these are signs of words, as words themselves are signs in our conversation of those things which we think.

The word that sounds outwardly is a sign of the word that shines inwardly, and this inner word has a stronger claim to be called a word. What we speak with our physical mouth is simply the vocal sound of a word, and it's also called a word because of the inner word it assumes in order to manifest itself outwardly. Our word becomes a bodily vocal sound by taking on that sound through which it can be revealed to human senses, just as the Word of God became flesh by taking on flesh through which He could be revealed to human senses. And just as our word becomes a vocal sound yet isn't changed into one, so the Word of God became flesh—but we must reject any idea that He was changed into flesh. Our word became a vocal sound, and that other Word became flesh, by assuming it, not by being consumed or changed into it. Therefore, whoever wants to find some likeness, whatever kind it may be, to the Word of God—however unlike in many ways—must not focus on our word that sounds in the ears, either when spoken aloud or when silently thought. Words of all languages that are spoken aloud are also thought silently, and the mind runs through verses while the physical mouth is silent. Not only the number of syllables but also musical melodies, being physical and belonging to the bodily sense called hearing, are present through certain non-physical images in those who think about them and silently turn these things over in their minds. But we must pass beyond this to reach that word of man through whose likeness, whatever it may be, the Word of God can somehow be seen as in a riddle. Not the word that was spoken to this or that prophet, about which Scripture says "Now the word of God grew and multiplied," and again "Faith then comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ," and again "When you received the word of God which you heard from us, you received it not as the word of men but, as it truly is, the word of God"—and there are countless other similar scriptural references to the word of God, which is spread through the sounds of many different languages and through the hearts and mouths of people, and is called the word of God because the teaching delivered is divine, not human. Rather, we are now seeking to see, in whatever way we can through this likeness, that Word of God of whom it is said "The Word was God," of whom it is said "All things were made by Him," of whom it is said "The Word became flesh," of whom it is said "The Word of God on high is the fountain of wisdom." We must proceed to that word of man, the word of the rational creature, the word of that image of God which was not born of God but made by God. This word cannot be spoken in sound or thought of as resembling sound, as must happen with words in any language, but precedes all the signs by which it is expressed and is generated from the knowledge that remains in the mind when that same knowledge is spoken inwardly as it truly is. The vision of thinking is remarkably like the vision of knowledge. When knowledge is expressed through sound or any bodily sign, it isn't expressed as it truly is, but as it can be perceived by the physical senses. Therefore, when what is in the knowledge is also in the word, then there is a true word and truth of the kind expected from humans—where what is in the knowledge is also in the word, and what is not in the knowledge is also not in the word. Here we can recognize "Yes, yes; no, no." And so this likeness of the created image approaches as closely as possible to that likeness of the begotten image, by which God the Son is declared to be like the Father in all things regarding ousia. We must also notice in this riddle another likeness to the word of God: just as it is said of that Word "All things were made by Him," declaring that God made the universe through His only-begotten Son, so no human works exist that were not first spoken in the heart. Scripture says "A word is the beginning of every work." But only when the word is true is it the beginning of a good work. A word is true when it is generated from the knowledge of doing good works, so that "yes, yes; no, no" is preserved there too—so that whatever is in the knowledge by which we should live is also in the word by which we should act, and whatever is not in one is not in the other. Otherwise such a word will be a lie, not truth, and what comes from it will be sin, not a good work. There is yet another likeness of the Word of God in this likeness of our word: we can have a word with no work following it, but we cannot have any work unless a word precedes it, just as the Word of God could have existed even if no creature existed, but no creature could exist except through that Word by which all things are made. Therefore, not God the Father, not the Holy Spirit, not the Trinity itself, but the Son alone, who is the Word of God, became flesh, although the Trinity was the maker. This happened so that we might live rightly by our word following and imitating His example—that is, by having no lie in either the thought or the work of our word. But this perfection of this image is something to be achieved in the future. To attain this, the good teacher instructs us through Christian faith and holy teaching that, with faces unveiled from the veil of the law (which is the shadow of things to come), beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord—that is, gazing at it through a mirror—we may be transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of the Lord, as we explained above.

20. Accordingly, the word that sounds outwardly is the sign of the word that gives light inwardly; which latter has the greater claim to be called a word. For that which is uttered with the mouth of the flesh, is the articulate sound of a word; and is itself also called a word, on account of that to make which outwardly apparent it is itself assumed. For our word is so made in some way into an articulate sound of the body, by assuming that articulate sound by which it may be manifested to men's senses, as the Word of God was made flesh, by assuming that flesh in which itself also might be manifested to men's senses. And as our word becomes an articulate sound, yet is not changed into one; so the Word of God became flesh, but far be it from us to say He was changed into flesh. For both that word of ours became an articulate sound, and that other Word became flesh, by assuming it, not by consuming itself so as to be changed into it. And therefore whoever desires to arrive at any likeness, be it of what sort it may, of the Word of God, however in many respects unlike, must not regard the word of ours that sounds in the ears, either when it is uttered in an articulate sound or when it is silently thought. For the words of all tongues that are uttered in sound are also silently thought, and the mind runs over verses while the bodily mouth is silent. And not only the numbers of syllables, but the tunes also of songs, since they are corporeal, and pertain to that sense of the body which is called hearing, are at hand by certain incorporeal images appropriate to them, to those who think of them, and who silently revolve all these things. But we must pass by this, in order to arrive at that word of man, by the likeness of which, be it of what sort it may, the Word of God may be somehow seen as in an enigma. Not that word which was spoken to this or that prophet, and of which it is said, Now the word of God grew and multiplied; and again, Faith then comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ; and again, When ye received the word of God which you heard of us, you received it not as the word of men but, as it is in truth, the word of God (and there are countless other like sayings in the Scriptures respecting the word of God, which is disseminated in the sounds of many and diverse languages through the hearts and mouths of men; and which is therefore called the word of God, because the doctrine that is delivered is not human, but divine);– but we are now seeking to see, in whatsoever way we can, by means of this likeness, that Word of God of which it is said, The Word was God; of which it is said, All things were made by Him; of which it is said, The Word became flesh; of which it is said The Word of God on high is the fountain of wisdom. We must go on, then, to that word of man, to the word of the rational animal, to the word of that image of God, that is not born of God, but made by God; which is neither utterable in sound nor capable of being thought under the likeness of sound such as must needs be with the word of any tongue; but which precedes all the signs by which it is signified, and is begotten from the knowledge that continues in the mind, when that same knowledge is spoken inwardly according as it really is. For the sight of thinking is exceedingly like the sight of knowledge. For when it is uttered by sound, or by any bodily sign, it is not uttered according as it really is, but as it can be seen or heard by the body. When, therefore, that is in the word which is in the knowledge, then there is a true word, and truth, such as is looked for from man; such that what is in the knowledge is also in the word, and what is not in the knowledge is also not in the word. Here may be recognized, Yea, yea; nay, nay. And so this likeness of the image that is made, approaches as nearly as is possible to that likeness of the image that is born, by which God the Son is declared to be in all things like in substance to the Father. We must notice in this enigma also another likeness of the word of God; viz. that, as it is said of that Word, All things were made by Him, where God is declared to have made the universe by His only-begotten Son, so there are no works of man that are not first spoken in his heart: whence it is written, A word is the beginning of every work. But here also, it is when the word is true, that then it is the beginning of a good work. And a word is true when it is begotten from the knowledge of working good works, so that there too may be preserved the yea yea, nay nay; in order that whatever is in that knowledge by which we are to live, may be also in the word by which we are to work, and whatever is not in the one may not be in the other. Otherwise such a word will be a lie, not truth; and what comes thence will be a sin, and not a good work. There is yet this other likeness of the Word of God in this likeness of our word, that there can be a word of ours with no work following it, but there cannot be any work unless a word precedes; just as the Word of God could have existed though no creature existed, but no creature could exist unless by that Word by which all things are made. And therefore not God the Father, not the Holy Spirit, not the Trinity itself, but the Son only, which is the Word of God, was made flesh; although the Trinity was the maker: in order that we might live rightly through our word following and imitating His example, i.e. by having no lie in either the thought or the work of our word. But this perfection of this image is one to be at some time hereafter. In order to attain this it is that the good master teaches us by Christian faith, and by pious doctrine, that with face unveiled from the veil of the law, which is the shadow of things to come, beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, i.e. gazing at it through a glass, we may be transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of the Lord; as we explained above.

When this image has been perfectly renewed through this transformation, we will be like God because we will see Him not through a glass but as He is. This is what the Apostle Paul means by "face to face." But for now, who can explain how great the unlikeness also is in this glass, in this enigma, in this likeness such as it is? Yet I will touch on some points as I am able, in order to show it.

21. When, therefore, this image shall have been renewed to perfection by this transformation, then we shall be like God, because we shall see Him, not through a glass, but as He is; which the Apostle Paul expresses by face to face. But now, who can explain how great is the unlikeness also, in this glass, in this enigma, in this likeness such as it is? Yet I will touch upon some points, as I can, by which to indicate it.

First, what kind of knowledge can a person attain, no matter how skilled and learned, by which our thinking is formed with truth when we speak what we know? Setting aside those things that come into the mind from the bodily senses–among which so many things are different from how they appear that anyone who is too much influenced by their resemblance to truth thinks himself sane but really is not (which is why the Academic philosophy has become so dominant that it is even more wretchedly insane by doubting everything)–setting aside, then, those things that come into the mind through the bodily senses, how much is left of things that we know in the same way we know that we live? About this, indeed, we have absolutely no fear that we might be deceived by some resemblance of truth, since it is certain that whoever is deceived is still alive. And this knowledge is not counted among those visual objects that are presented from outside, where the eye might be deceived–such as when an oar in water looks bent, towers seem to move as you sail past them, and a thousand other things that are different from how they appear. This is not something discerned by the physical eye. The knowledge by which we know that we live is the most inward of all knowledge, against which even the Academic cannot suggest: Perhaps you are asleep and don't know it, and you see things in your dreams. For who doesn't know that what people see in dreams looks exactly like what they see when awake? But the person who is certain of the knowledge of his own life does not say, I know I am awake, but rather, I know I am alive. Therefore, whether he is asleep or awake, he is alive. Nor can he be deceived in that knowledge by dreams, since both sleeping and seeing things in sleep belong to a living person. Nor can the Academic say in refutation of this knowledge: Perhaps you are mad and don't know it–for what mad people see looks exactly like what sane people see; but whoever is mad is alive. He does not answer the Academic by saying, I know I am not mad, but rather, I know I am alive. Therefore, whoever says he knows he is alive can neither be deceived nor lie. Let a thousand kinds of deceptive visual objects be presented to someone who says, I know I am alive–he will fear none of them, for whoever is deceived is still alive. But if only such things belong to human knowledge, they are very few indeed–unless they can be so multiplied in each kind as not only to be many, but to reach infinity as a result. For whoever says, I know I am alive, says he knows one single thing. Furthermore, if he says, I know that I know I am alive, now there are two things; and that he knows these two is a third thing to know. And so he can add a fourth and a fifth, and countless others, if he continues. But since he cannot comprehend an infinite number by adding units one by one, or say something an infinite number of times, he does at least comprehend this with perfect certainty: that this is both true and so infinite that he cannot truly comprehend and state its infinite number. This same thing can be noticed also in the case of a certain act of will. For it would be an impudent answer to make to anyone who says, I will to be happy, that perhaps you are deceived. And if he says, I know that I will this, and I know that I know it, he can add yet a third to these two–namely, that he knows these two; and a fourth, that he knows that he knows these two; and so on to infinity. Likewise, if anyone says, I do not will to be mistaken, will it not be true, whether he is mistaken or not, that nevertheless he does will not to be mistaken? Would it not be most impudent to say to him, Perhaps you are deceived? When beyond doubt, in whatever way he may be deceived, he is nevertheless not deceived in thinking that he wills not to be deceived. And if he says he knows this, he can add any number of things known that he chooses, and perceives that number to be infinite. For whoever says, I do not will to be deceived, and I know that I do not will this, and I know that I know it, is now able to set forth an infinite number here also, however awkward the expression of it may be. And other things too can be found capable of refuting the Academics, who contend that a person can know nothing. But we must restrain ourselves, especially since this is not the subject we have undertaken in the present work. There are three books of ours on that subject, written early in our conversion, which anyone who can and will read, and who understands them, will doubtless not be much troubled by any of the many arguments they have devised against the discovery of truth. For since there are two kinds of knowable things–one, of those things which the mind perceives through the bodily senses; the other, of those things which it perceives by itself–these philosophers have babbled much against the bodily senses, but have never been able to cast doubt upon those most certain perceptions of true things that the mind knows by itself, such as the one I have mentioned, I know that I am alive. But far be it from us to doubt the truth of what we have learned through the bodily senses, since through them we have learned to know the heaven and the earth, and those things in them that are known to us, insofar as He who created both us and them has willed them to be within our knowledge. Far be it from us too to deny that we know what we have learned by the testimony of others: otherwise we do not know that there is an ocean; we do not know that the lands and cities exist which abundant reports tell us about; we do not know that those men existed, and their works, which we have learned by reading history; we do not know the news that is daily brought to us from various places and confirmed by consistent and agreeing evidence; lastly, we do not know at what place or from whom we were born, since in all these things we have believed the testimony of others. And if it is most absurd to say this, then we must confess that not only our own senses, but those of other people as well, have added very much indeed to our knowledge.

First, of what sort and how great is the very knowledge itself that a man can attain, be he ever so skillful and learned, by which our thought is formed with truth, when we speak what we know? For to pass by those things that come into the mind from the bodily senses, among which so many are otherwise than they seem to be, that he who is overmuch pressed down by their resemblance to truth, seems sane to himself, but really is not sane — whence it is that the Academic philosophy has so prevailed as to be still more wretchedly insane by doubting all things — passing by, then, those things that come into the mind by the bodily senses, how large a proportion is left of things which we know in such manner as we know that we live? In regard to this, indeed, we are absolutely without any fear lest perchance we are being deceived by some resemblance of the truth; since it is certain, that he who is deceived, yet lives. And this again is not reckoned among those objects of sight that are presented from without, so that the eye may be deceived in it; in such way as it is when an oar in the water looks bent, and towers seem to move as you sail past them, and a thousand other things that are otherwise than they seem to be: for this is not a thing that is discerned by the eye of the flesh. The knowledge by which we know that we live is the most inward of all knowledge, of which even the Academic cannot insinuate: Perhaps you are asleep, and do not know it, and you see things in your sleep. For who does not know that what people see in dreams is precisely like what they see when awake? But he who is certain of the knowledge of his own life, does not therein say, I know I am awake, but, I know I am alive; therefore, whether he be asleep or awake, he is alive. Nor can he be deceived in that knowledge by dreams; since it belongs to a living man both to sleep and to see in sleep. Nor can the Academic again say, in confutation of this knowledge: Perhaps you are mad, and do not know it: for what madmen see is precisely like what they also see who are sane; but he who is mad is alive. Nor does he answer the Academic by saying, I know I am not mad, but, I know I am alive. Therefore he who says he knows he is alive, can neither be deceived nor lie. Let a thousand kinds, then, of deceitful objects of sight be presented to him who says, I know I am alive; yet he will fear none of them, for he who is deceived yet is alive. But if such things alone pertain to human knowledge, they are very few indeed; unless that they can be so multiplied in each kind, as not only not to be few, but to reach in the result to infinity. For he who says, I know I am alive, says that he knows one single thing. Further, if he says, I know that I know I am alive, now there are two; but that he knows these two is a third thing to know. And so he can add a fourth and a fifth, and innumerable others, if he holds out. But since he cannot either comprehend an innumerable number by additions of units, or say a thing innumerable times, he comprehends this at least, and with perfect certainty, viz. that this is both true and so innumerable that he cannot truly comprehend and say its infinite number. This same thing may be noticed also in the case of a will that is certain. For it would be an impudent answer to make to any one who should say, I will to be happy, that perhaps you are deceived. And if he should say, I know that I will this, and I know that I know it, he can add yet a third to these two, viz. that he knows these two; and a fourth, that he knows that he knows these two; and so on ad infinitum. Likewise, if any one were to say, I will not to be mistaken; will it not be true, whether he is mistaken or whether he is not, that nevertheless he does will not to be mistaken? Would it not be most impudent to say to him, Perhaps you are deceived? When beyond doubt, whereinsoever he may be deceived, he is nevertheless not deceived in thinking that he wills not to be deceived. And if he says he knows this, he adds any number he chooses of things known, and perceives that number to be infinite. For he who says, I will not to be deceived, and I know that I will not to be so, and I know that I know it, is able now to set forth an infinite number here also, however awkward may be the expression of it. And other things too are to be found capable of refuting the Academics, who contend that man can know nothing. But we must restrict ourselves, especially as this is not the subject we have undertaken in the present work. There are three books of ours on that subject, written in the early time of our conversion, which he who can and will read, and who understands them, will doubtless not be much moved by any of the many arguments which they have found out against the discovery of truth. For whereas there are two kinds of knowable things — one, of those things which the mind perceives by the bodily senses; the other, of those which it perceives by itself — these philosophers have babbled much against the bodily senses, but have never been able to throw doubt upon those most certain perceptions of things true, which the mind knows by itself, such as is that which I have mentioned, I know that I am alive. But far be it from us to doubt the truth of what we have learned by the bodily senses; since by them we have learned to know the heaven and the earth, and those things in them which are known to us, so far as He who created both us and them has willed them to be within our knowledge. Far be it from us too to deny, that we know what we have learned by the testimony of others: otherwise we know not that there is an ocean; we know not that the lands and cities exist which most copious report commends to us; we know not that those men were, and their works, which we have learned by reading history; we know not the news that is daily brought us from this quarter or that, and confirmed by consistent and conspiring evidence; lastly, we know not at what place or from whom we have been born: since in all these things we have believed the testimony of others. And if it is most absurd to say this, then we must confess, that not only our own senses, but those of other persons also, have added very much indeed to our knowledge.

All these things, then—both those which the human mind knows by itself, and those which it knows by the bodily senses, and those which it has received and knows by the testimony of others—are stored up and retained in the storehouse of the memory. From these is begotten a word that is true when we speak what we know, but a word that exists before all sound, before all thought of a sound. For the word is then most like to the thing known, from which its image is also begotten, since the sight of thinking arises from the sight of knowledge. This word belongs to no particular language but is a true word concerning a true thing, having nothing of its own, but wholly derived from that knowledge from which it is born. Nor does it matter when the person who speaks what he knows learned it, for sometimes he says it immediately upon learning it, provided only that the word is true—that is, sprung from things that are known.

22. All these things, then, both those which the human mind knows by itself, and those which it knows by the bodily senses, and those which it has received and knows by the testimony of others, are laid up and retained in the storehouse of the memory; and from these is begotten a word that is true when we speak what we know, but a word that is before all sound, before all thought of a sound. For the word is then most like to the thing known, from which also its image is begotten, since the sight of thinking arises from the sight of knowledge; when it is a word belonging to no tongue, but is a true word concerning a true thing, having nothing of its own, but wholly derived from that knowledge from which it is born. Nor does it signify when he learned it, who speaks what he knows; for sometimes he says it immediately upon learning it; provided only that the word is true, i.e. sprung from things that are known.

But is it the case that God the Father, from whom is born the Word that is God of God—is it the case that God the Father, regarding the wisdom which He is to Himself, has learned some things through bodily senses and others by Himself? Who could say this, whoever thinks of God not as a rational animal but as One above the rational soul? At least as far as He can be thought of by those who place Him above all animals and all souls, even though they see Him by conjecture through a glass and in a riddle, not yet face to face as He is. Is it that God the Father has learned those very things which He knows, not through the body (for He has none), but by Himself from somewhere else or from someone? Or has He needed messengers or witnesses in order to know them? Certainly not, since His own perfection enables Him to know all things that He knows. He does have messengers, namely the angels, but not to report to Him things He does not know, for there is nothing He does not know. Rather, their good consists in consulting the truth about their own works. This is what is meant by saying that they bring Him word of some things—not that He may learn from them, but that they may learn from Him through His word without bodily sound. They also bring Him word of what He wills, being sent by Him to whomever He wills, and hearing all from Him through that word of His, that is, finding in His truth what they themselves are to do: what, to whom, and when they are to bring word. For we too pray to Him, yet we do not inform Him what our needs are. For your Father knows, says His Word, what things you need before you ask Him. Nor did He become acquainted with them so as to know them at any particular time, but He knew beforehand, without any beginning, all things to come in time, and among them both what we would ask of Him and when, and to whom He would either listen or not listen, and about what matters. And with respect to all His creatures, both spiritual and bodily, He does not know them because they exist, but they exist because He knows them. For He was not ignorant of what He was about to create; therefore He created because He knew; He did not know because He created. Nor did He know them when created in any different way than He knew them when they were still to be created, for nothing was added to His wisdom from them; rather, that wisdom remained as it was, while they came into existence as was fitting and when it was fitting. So too it is written in the book of Ecclesiasticus: All things are known to Him before they were created, and likewise after they were perfected. So, he says, not otherwise—they were known to Him in the same way, both before they were created and after they were perfected. This knowledge, therefore, is completely unlike our knowledge. And the knowledge of God is itself also His wisdom, and His wisdom is itself His essence or substance. Because in the marvelous simplicity of that nature, it is not one thing to be wise and another to be, but to be wise is to be—as we have already said many times in the earlier books. But our knowledge is in most things capable both of being lost and of being recovered, because for us to be is not the same as to know or to be wise; since it is possible for us to be even though we do not know and are not wise in what we have learned from elsewhere. Therefore, just as our knowledge is unlike that knowledge of God, so is our word, which is born from our knowledge, unlike that Word of God which is born from the essence of the Father. And this is as if I should say, born from the Father's knowledge, from the Father's wisdom; or even more precisely, from the Father who is knowledge, from the Father who is wisdom.

But is it so, that God the Father, from whom is born the Word that is God of God — is it so, then, that God the Father, in respect to that wisdom which He is to Himself, has learned some things by His bodily senses, and others by Himself? Who could say this, who thinks of God, not as a rational animal, but as One above the rational soul? So far at least as He can be thought of, by those who place Him above all animals and all souls, although they see Him by conjecture through a glass and in an enigma, not yet face to face as He is. Is it that God the Father has learned those very things which He knows, not by the body, for He has none, but by Himself, from elsewhere from some one? Or has stood in need of messengers or witnesses that He might know them? Certainly not; since His own perfection enables Him to know all things that He knows. No doubt He has messengers, viz. the angels; but not to announce to Him things that He knows not, for there is nothing He does not know. But their good lies in consulting the truth about their own works. And this it is which is meant by saying that they bring Him word of some things, not that He may learn of them, but they of Him by His word without bodily sound. They bring Him word, too, of that which He wills, being sent by Him to whomever He wills, and hearing all from Him by that word of His, i.e. finding in His truth what themselves are to do: what, to whom, and when, they are to bring word. For we too pray to Him, yet do not inform Him what our necessities are. For your Father knows, says His Word, what things you have need of, before you ask Him. Nor did He become acquainted with them, so as to know them, at any definite time; but He knew beforehand, without any beginning, all things to come in time, and among them also both what we should ask of Him, and when; and to whom He would either listen or not listen, and on what subjects. And with respect to all His creatures, both spiritual and corporeal, He does not know them because they are, but they are because He knows them. For He was not ignorant of what He was about to create; therefore He created because He knew; He did not know because He created. Nor did He know them when created in any other way than He knew them when still to be created, for nothing accrued to His wisdom from them; but that wisdom remained as it was, while they came into existence as it was fitting and when it was fitting. So, too, it is written in the book of Ecclesiasticus: All things are known to Him ere ever they were created: so also after they were perfected. So, he says, not otherwise; so were they known to Him, both ere ever they were created, and after they were perfected. This knowledge, therefore, is far unlike our knowledge. And the knowledge of God is itself also His wisdom, and His wisdom is itself His essence or substance. Because in the marvellous simplicity of that nature, it is not one thing to be wise and another to be, but to be wise is to be; as we have often said already also in the earlier books. But our knowledge is in most things capable both of being lost and of being recovered, because to us to be is not the same as to know or to be wise; since it is possible for us to be, even although we know not, neither are wise in that which we have learned from elsewhere. Therefore, as our knowledge is unlike that knowledge of God, so is our word also, which is born from our knowledge, unlike that Word of God which is born from the essence of the Father. And this is as if I should say, born from the Father's knowledge, from the Father's wisdom; or still more exactly, from the Father who is knowledge, from the Father who is wisdom.

The Word of God, then, the only-begotten Son of the Father, in all things like and equal to the Father, God of God, Light of Light, Wisdom of Wisdom, Essence of Essence, is completely what the Father is, yet is not the Father, because one is Son and the other is Father. Therefore He knows everything the Father knows. But for Him, both knowing and being come from the Father, since knowing and being are one and the same there. Just as the Father's being does not come from the Son, neither does His knowing. Consequently, as if speaking Himself forth, the Father begot the Word equal to Himself in all things. For He would not have expressed Himself completely and perfectly if there were anything more or less in His Word than in Himself. Here we truly recognize the highest sense of "Yes, yes; no, no." This Word is therefore truly truth, since whatever exists in that knowledge from which it is born also exists in the Word itself, and whatever is not in that knowledge is not in the Word. This Word can never contain anything false, because it is unchangeable, just as the one from whom it comes is unchangeable. For the Son can do nothing by Himself, but only what He sees the Father do. This is not because He lacks the power to do otherwise—it is not weakness but strength by which truth cannot be false. Therefore God the Father knows all things in Himself and knows all things in the Son: in Himself as Himself, and in the Son as His own Word, which Word is spoken concerning all those things that are in Himself. Similarly, the Son knows all things: in Himself, as things born from what the Father knows in Himself, and in the Father, as those things from which what the Son knows in Himself is born. The Father and the Son know each other mutually, but one through begetting and the other through being begotten. Each of them sees simultaneously all things that are in their knowledge, in their wisdom, in their ousia (essence): not partially or one thing at a time, as if looking back and forth from this to that and from that to this, or from one object to another, so as to be unable to see some things without simultaneously not seeing others. Rather, as I said, He sees all things simultaneously, and there is not one thing that He does not always see.

23. The Word of God, then, the only-begotten Son of the Father, in all things like and equal to the Father, God of God, Light of Light, Wisdom of Wisdom, Essence of Essence, is altogether that which the Father is, yet is not the Father, because the one is Son, the other is Father. And hence He knows all that the Father knows; but to Him to know, as to be, is from the Father, for to know and to be is there one. And therefore, as to be is not to the Father from the Son, so neither is to know. Accordingly, as though uttering Himself, the Father begot the Word equal to Himself in all things; for He would not have uttered Himself wholly and perfectly, if there were in His Word anything more or less than in Himself. And here that is recognized in the highest sense, Yea, yea; nay, nay. And therefore this Word is truly truth, since whatever is in that knowledge from which it is born is also in itself and whatever is not in that knowledge is not in the Word. And this Word can never have anything false, because it is unchangeable, as He is from whom it is. For the Son can do nothing of Himself, but what He sees the Father do. Through power He cannot do this; nor is it infirmity, but strength, by which truth cannot be false. Therefore God the Father knows all things in Himself, knows all things in the Son; but in Himself as though Himself, in the Son as though His own Word which Word is spoken concerning all those things that are in Himself. Similarly the Son knows all things, viz. in Himself, as things which are born of those which the Father knows in Himself, and in the Father, as those of which they are born, which the Son Himself knows in Himself. The Father then, and the Son know mutually; but the one by begetting, the other by being born. And each of them sees simultaneously all things that are in their knowledge, in their wisdom, in their essence: not by parts or singly, as though by alternately looking from this side to that, and from that side to this, and again from this or that object to this or that object, so as not to be able to see some things without at the same time not seeing others; but, as I said, sees all things simultaneously, whereof there is not one that He does not always see.

And that word of ours which has neither sound nor thought of sound, but concerns the thing we speak of inwardly when we see it—and which therefore belongs to no particular language—is in some way like, in this enigma, to that Word of God which is also God. For our word is born from our knowledge in a manner similar to how that Word is born from the knowledge of the Father. Yet while we find this word of ours to be in some way like that Word, let us not hesitate to consider how unlike it also is, to the extent that we are able to express it.

24. And that word, then, of ours which has neither sound nor thought of sound, but is of that thing in seeing which we speak inwardly, and which therefore belongs to no tongue; and hence is in some sort like, in this enigma, to that Word of God which is also God; since this too is born of our knowledge, in such manner as that also is born of the knowledge of the Father: such a word, I say, of ours, which we find to be in some way like that Word, let us not be slow to consider how unlike also it is, as it may be in our power to utter it.

Does our word come only from what we know? Don't we also say many things that we do not know? And we say them not with doubt, but thinking they are true. Yet even if these things happen to be true in reality, they are not true in our word, because a word is not true unless it comes from something that is known. In this sense, our word is false—not when we lie, but when we are mistaken. And when we doubt, our word is not yet about the thing we doubt, but is a word about the doubt itself. For although we do not know whether the thing we doubt is true, we do know that we doubt. Therefore, when we say we doubt, we speak a true word, because we say what we know. And what about the fact that we can lie? When we do, we deliberately and knowingly have a false word, although there is still a true word in it—namely, that we are lying, for we know this. And when we admit that we have lied, we speak what is true, because we say what we know, for we know that we lied. But that Word which is God, though it can do more than we can, cannot do this. For it can do nothing except what it sees the Father do, and it does not speak of itself, but has from the Father all that it speaks, since the Father speaks it in a unique way. The great power of that Word is that it cannot lie, because there cannot be both yes and no in it, but yes is yes and no is no. Now, should something that is not true even be called a word? I readily agree if that is so. But what if our word is true and therefore rightly called a word? Can we speak of essence from essence, just as we can speak of sight from sight and knowledge from knowledge, as that Word of God is uniquely spoken of and should be spoken of? Why not? Because for us, to be is not the same as to know. We know many things that live in some way through memory and in some way die through being forgotten. So when those things are no longer in our knowledge, we still exist. And even when our knowledge has slipped away and perished from our mind, we are still alive.

Is our word, then, born of our knowledge only? Do we not say many things also that we do not know? And say them not with doubt, but thinking them to be true; while if perchance they are true in respect to the things themselves of which we speak, they are yet not true in respect to our word, because a word is not true unless it is born of a thing that is known. In this sense, then, our word is false, not when we lie, but when we are deceived. And when we doubt, our word is not yet of the thing of which we doubt, but it is a word concerning the doubt itself. For although we do not know whether that is true of which we doubt, yet we do know that we doubt; and hence, when we say we doubt, we say a word that is true, for we say what we know. And what, too, of its being possible for us to lie? And when we do, certainly we both willingly and knowingly have a word that is false, wherein there is a word that is true, viz. that we lie, for this we know. And when we confess that we have lied, we speak that which is true; for we say what we know, for we know that we lied. But that Word which is God, and can do more than we, cannot do this. For it can do nothing except what it sees the Father do; and it speaks not of itself, but it has from the Father all that it speaks, since the Father speaks it in a special way; and the great might of that Word is that it cannot lie, because there cannot be there yea and nay, but yea yea, nay nay. Well, but that is not even to be called a word, which is not true. I willingly assent, if so it be. What, then, if our word is true and therefore is rightly called a word? Is it the case that, as we can speak of sight of sight, and knowledge of knowledge, so we can speak of essence of essence, as that Word of God is especially spoken of, and is especially to be spoken of? Why so? Because to us, to be is not the same as to know; since we know many things which in some sense live by memory, and so in some sense die by being forgotten: and so, when those things are no longer in our knowledge, yet we still are: and while our knowledge has slipped away and perished out of our mind, we are still alive.

In those things that are so firmly known they can never slip from memory because they are always present and belong to the very nature of the mind itself — for example, knowing that we are alive (this continues as long as the mind continues, and because the mind always continues, this knowledge also always continues) — I say regarding this and similar cases, where we can better observe the image of God, it is hard to explain how an eternal word can be spoken about them, even though they are always known but not always being thought about, since our word exists in our thought. For it is eternal to the soul to live and eternal to know that it lives. Yet it is not eternal for the soul to be thinking about its own life or to be thinking about its own knowledge of its own life. When the soul turns to this or that activity, it will stop thinking about this, though it never stops knowing it. This means that if there can be any eternal knowledge in the mind, while the thought of that knowledge cannot be eternal, and if any inner and true word of ours is spoken only through our thought, then God alone can be understood to have a Word that is eternal and co-eternal with himself. Unless perhaps we should say that the very possibility of thought — since what is known can be truly thought even when it is not actually being thought — makes a word as perpetual as the knowledge itself is perpetual. But how is that a word if it is not yet formed in the vision of thought? How will it be like the knowledge from which it is born if it does not have the form of that knowledge, and is called a word only because it can have that form? This would be like saying something should be called a word because it can be a word. But what is this thing that can be a word and is therefore already considered worthy of the name word? What is this thing that is formable but not yet formed, except something in our mind that we toss back and forth by turning it this way and that while we think of one thing and then another, as they are discovered by us or come to us? The true word comes into being when, as I said, what we toss back and forth arrives at what we know and is formed by it, taking on its complete likeness, so that in whatever manner something is known, in that same manner it is also thought, that is, it is spoken in this way in the heart without articulate sound, without thought of articulate sound, such as certainly belongs to some particular language. So even if we grant, to avoid laborious argument over a name, that this something in our mind which can be formed from our knowledge should already be called a word even before it is formed, because it is, so to speak, already formable, who would not see how great the unlikeness would be between it and that Word of God, which exists in such a way in the form of God that it was never formable before being formed or ever capable of being formless, but is a simple form, simply equal to the one from whom it comes, and with whom it is wonderfully co-eternal?

25. In respect to those things also which are so known that they can never escape the memory, because they are present, and belong to the nature of the mind itself — as, e.g., the knowing that we are alive (for this continues so long as the mind continues; and because the mind continues always, this also continues always) — I say, in respect to this and to any other like instances, in which we are the rather to contemplate the image of God, it is difficult to make out in what way, although they are always known, yet because they are not always also thought of, an eternal word can be spoken respecting them, when our word is spoken in our thought. For it is eternal to the soul to live; it is eternal to know that it lives. Yet it is not eternal to it to be thinking of its own life, or to be thinking of its own knowledge of its own life; since, in entering upon this or that occupation, it will cease to think of this, although it does not cease from knowing it. And hence it comes to pass, that if there can be in the mind any knowledge that is eternal, while the thought of that knowledge cannot be eternal, and any inner and true word of ours is only said by our thought, then God alone can be understood to have a Word that is eternal, and co-eternal with Himself. Unless, perhaps, we are to say that the very possibility of thought — since that which is known is capable of being truly thought, even at the time when it is not being thought — constitutes a word as perpetual as the knowledge itself is perpetual. But how is that a word which is not yet formed in the vision of the thought? How will it be like the knowledge of which it is born, if it has not the form of that knowledge, and is only now called a word because it can have it? For it is much as if one were to say that a word is to be so called because it can be a word. But what is this that can be a word, and is therefore already held worthy of the name of a word? What, I say, is this thing that is formable, but not yet formed, except a something in our mind, which we toss to and fro by revolving it this way or that, while we think of first one thing and then another, according as they are found by or occur to us? And the true word then comes into being, when, as I said, that which we toss to and fro by revolving it arrives at that which we know, and is formed by that, in taking its entire likeness; so that in what manner each thing is known, in that manner also it is thought, i.e. is said in this manner in the heart, without articulate sound, without thought of articulate sound, such as no doubt belongs to some particular tongue. And hence if we even admit, in order not to dispute laboriously about a name, that this something of our mind, which can be formed from our knowledge, is to be already called a word, even before it is so formed, because it is, so to say, already formable, who would not see how great would be the unlikeness between it and that Word of God, which is so in the form of God, as not to have been formable before it was formed, or to have been capable at any time of being formless, but is a simple form, and simply equal to Him from whom it is, and with whom it is wonderfully co-eternal?

Therefore, the Word of God is called this in such a way that it should not be called a thought of God. This prevents us from believing that there is anything in God that can be turned over in the mind—something that at one time receives and at another recovers a form so as to be a word, and that can lose that form again and be turned over in some formless way. Certainly that excellent master of language knew well the power of words and had examined the nature of thought when he said in his poem, "And revolves with himself the varying issues of war," that is, thinks about them. Therefore, that Son of God is not called the Thought of God, but the Word of God. For our own thought, reaching what we know and being formed by it, is our true word. So the Word of God ought to be understood without any thought on God's part, so that it is understood as the simple form itself, containing nothing formable that can also be unformed. There are, indeed, passages of Holy Scripture that speak of God's thoughts, but this follows the same manner of speaking by which the forgetfulness of God is also mentioned there, whereas strictly speaking there is certainly no forgetfulness in Him.

Wherefore that Word of God is in such wise so called, as not to be called a thought of God, lest we believe that there is anything in God which can be revolved, so that it at one time receives and at another recovers a form, so as to be a word, and again can lose that form and be revolved in some sense formlessly. Certainly that excellent master of speech knew well the force of words, and had looked into the nature of thought, who said in his poem, And revolves with himself the varying issues of war, i.e. thinks of them. That Son of God, then, is not called the Thought of God, but the Word of God. For our own thought, attaining to what we know, and formed thereby, is our true word. And so the Word of God ought to be understood without any thought on the part of God, so that it be understood as the simple form itself, but containing nothing formable that can be also unformed. There are, indeed, passages of Holy Scripture that speak of God's thoughts; but this is after the same mode of speech by which the forgetfulness of God is also there spoken of, whereas in strict propriety of language there is in Him certainly no forgetfulness.

Since we have found in this enigma such great unlikeness to God and the Word of God, even though we found some likeness earlier, we must also admit this: even when we shall be like Him, when we shall see Him as He is (and certainly the one who said this was fully aware of our present unlikeness), not even then shall we be equal to Him in nature. For the nature that is created is always less than the nature that creates. At that time our word will not be false, because we shall neither lie nor be deceived. Perhaps, too, our thoughts will no longer revolve by passing back and forth from one thing to another, but we shall see all our knowledge at once and at a single glance. Still, when even this happens, if indeed it does happen, the creature that was formable will have been formed, so that nothing will be lacking from the form it ought to attain. Nevertheless, it will not be equal to that simplicity in which there is nothing formable, nothing that has been formed or reformed, but only form itself—which, being neither formless nor formed, is eternal and unchangeable substance.

26. Wherefore, since we have found now in this enigma so great an unlikeness to God and the Word of God, wherein yet there was found before some likeness, this, too, must be admitted, that even when we shall be like Him, when we shall see Him as He is (and certainly he who said this was aware beyond doubt of our present unlikeness), not even then shall we be equal to Him in nature. For that nature which is made is ever less than that which makes. And at that time our word will not indeed be false, because we shall neither lie nor be deceived. Perhaps, too, our thoughts will no longer revolve by passing and repassing from one thing to another, but we shall see all our knowledge at once, and at one glance. Still, when even this shall have come to pass, if indeed it shall come to pass, the creature which was formable will indeed have been formed, so that nothing will be wanting of that form to which it ought to attain; yet nevertheless it will not be to be equalled to that simplicity wherein there is not anything formable, which has been formed or reformed, but only form; and which being neither formless nor formed, itself is eternal and unchangeable substance.

We have spoken sufficiently about the Father and the Son, as much as we are able to see through this glass and in this enigma. We must now discuss the Holy Spirit, as far as God's gift allows us to see Him. According to the Holy Scriptures, the Holy Spirit belongs neither to the Father alone nor to the Son alone, but to both. In this way He suggests to us a mutual love by which the Father and the Son love one another. But the language of the Word of God, in order to train us, has made us search with greater effort for those things that do not lie on the surface but must be examined in hidden depths and drawn out from there. The Scriptures have not said "The Holy Spirit is Love." If they had said this, they would have eliminated a significant part of this investigation. Instead, they have said "God is love," so it remains uncertain and open to inquiry whether God the Father is love, or God the Son, or God the Holy Spirit, or the Trinity itself which is God. For we are not going to say that God is called Love because love itself is a substance worthy of the name God, but because it is a gift of God, just as it is said to God "You are my patience." This is not said because our patience is God's substance, but because He Himself gives it to us, as we read elsewhere "Since from Him is my patience." The way Scripture itself uses words sufficiently refutes this interpretation, for "You are my patience" is the same kind of expression as "You, Lord, are my hope" and "The Lord my God is my mercy," along with many similar texts. It does not say "O Lord my love" or "You are my love" or "God my love," but rather "God is love," just as it is said "God is a Spirit." Anyone who does not understand this must ask the Lord for understanding, not ask us for an explanation, for we cannot say anything more clearly.

27. We have sufficiently spoken of the Father and of the Son, so far as was possible for us to see through this glass and in this enigma. We must now treat of the Holy Spirit, so far as by God's gift it is permitted to see Him. And the Holy Spirit, according to the Holy Scriptures, is neither of the Father alone, nor of the Son alone, but of both; and so intimates to us a mutual love, wherewith the Father and the Son reciprocally love one another. But the language of the Word of God, in order to exercise us, has caused those things to be sought into with the greater zeal, which do not lie on the surface, but are to be scrutinized in hidden depths, and to be drawn out from thence. The Scriptures, accordingly, have not said, The Holy Spirit is Love. If they had said so, they would have done away with no small part of this inquiry. But they have said, God is love; so that it is uncertain and remains to be inquired whether God the Father is love, or God the Son, or God the Holy Ghost, or the Trinity itself which is God. For we are not going to say that God is called Love because love itself is a substance worthy of the name of God, but because it is a gift of God, as it is said to God, You are my patience. For this is not said because our patience is God's substance, but in that He Himself gives it to us; as it is elsewhere read, Since from Him is my patience. For the usage of words itself in Scripture sufficiently refutes this interpretation; for You are my patience is of the same kind as You, Lord, art my hope, and The Lord my God is my mercy, and many like texts. And it is not said, O Lord my love, or, You are my love, or, God my love; but it is said thus, God is love, as it is said, God is a Spirit. And he who does not discern this, must ask understanding from the Lord, not an explanation from us; for we cannot say anything more clearly.

God, then, is love. But the question is whether this refers to the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, or the Trinity itself, since the Trinity is not three Gods but one God. However, I have already argued earlier in this book that the Trinity, which is God, should not be understood from those three aspects we found in the trinity of our mind in such a way that the Father would be the memory of all three, the Son the understanding of all three, and the Holy Spirit the love of all three. This would mean the Father would neither understand nor love for Himself, but the Son would understand for Him and the Holy Spirit love for Him, while He Himself would only remember both for Himself and for them. Likewise, the Son would neither remember nor love for Himself, but the Father would remember for Him and the Holy Spirit love for Him, while He Himself would only understand both for Himself and for them. Similarly, the Holy Spirit would neither remember nor understand for Himself, but the Father would remember for Him and the Son understand for Him, while He Himself would only love both for Himself and for them. Rather, it works this way: each and all of them have all three qualities in His own nature. These qualities are not distinct in them as they are in us, where memory is one thing, understanding another, and love or charity yet another. Instead, they are one single thing that is equivalent to all of them, namely wisdom itself. This is contained in the nature of each Person in such a way that the one who has it is identical with what He has, since He is an unchangeable and simple substance. If all this has been understood and made clearly true, so far as we are granted to see or conclude about such great matters, I do not know why both the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit should not be called Love, and all together one love, just as both the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit is called Wisdom, and all together not three wisdoms but one wisdom. For in the same way, both the Father is God, and the Son God, and the Holy Spirit God, and all three together one God.

28. God, then, is love; but the question is, whether the Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit, or the Trinity itself: because the Trinity is not three Gods, but one God. But I have already argued above in this book, that the Trinity, which is God, is not so to be understood from those three things which have been set forth in the trinity of our mind, as that the Father should be the memory of all three, and the Son the understanding of all three, and the Holy Spirit the love of all three; as though the Father should neither understand nor love for Himself, but the Son should understand for Him, and the Holy Spirit love for Him, but He Himself should remember only both for Himself and for them; nor the Son remember nor love for Himself, but the Father should remember for Him, and the Holy Spirit love for Him, but He Himself understand only both for Himself and them; nor likewise that the Holy Spirit should neither remember nor understand for Himself, but the Father should remember for Him, and the Son understand for Him, while He Himself should love only both for Himself and for them; but rather in this way, that both all and each have all three each in His own nature. Nor that these things should differ in them, as in us memory is one thing, understanding another, love or charity another, but should be some one thing that is equivalent to all, as wisdom itself; and should be so contained in the nature of each, as that He who has it is that which He has, as being an unchangeable and simple substance. If all this, then, has been understood, and so far as is granted to us to see or conjecture in things so great, has been made patently true, I know not why both the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit should not be called Love, and all together one love, just as both the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit is called Wisdom, and all together not three, but one wisdom. For so also both the Father is God, and the Son God, and the Holy Ghost God, and all three together one God.

Yet it is not without purpose that in this Trinity the Son and no other is called the Word of God, and the Holy Spirit and no other the Gift of God, and God the Father alone is the one from whom the Word is born and from whom the Holy Spirit principally proceeds. I have added the word "principally" because we find that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Son as well. But the Father gave him this too, not by giving it to one who already existed and did not yet have it, but rather whatever he gave to the only-begotten Word, he gave by begetting him. Therefore he begot him in such a way that the common Gift should proceed from him also, and the Holy Spirit should be the Spirit of both. This distinction within the inseparable Trinity is not to be merely accepted in passing but to be carefully considered. For this is why the Word of God was specially called also the Wisdom of God, even though both Father and Holy Spirit are wisdom. If, then, any one of the three is to be specially called Love, what could be more fitting than that it should be the Holy Spirit? For in that simple and highest nature, substance is not one thing and love another, but substance itself is love, and love itself is substance, whether in the Father, or in the Son, or in the Holy Spirit. Yet the Holy Spirit is specially called Love.

29. And yet it is not to no purpose that in this Trinity the Son and none other is called the Word of God, and the Holy Spirit and none other the Gift of God, and God the Father alone is He from whom the Word is born, and from whom the Holy Spirit principally proceeds. And therefore I have added the word principally, because we find that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Son also. But the Father gave Him this too, not as to one already existing, and not yet having it; but whatever He gave to the only-begotten Word, He gave by begetting Him. Therefore He so begot Him as that the common Gift should proceed from Him also, and the Holy Spirit should be the Spirit of both. This distinction, then, of the inseparable Trinity is not to be merely accepted in passing, but to be carefully considered; for hence it was that the Word of God was specially called also the Wisdom of God, although both Father and Holy Spirit are wisdom. If, then, any one of the three is to be specially called Love, what more fitting than that it should be the Holy Spirit?– namely, that in that simple and highest nature, substance should not be one thing and love another, but that substance itself should be love, and love itself should be substance, whether in the Father, or in the Son, or in the Holy Spirit; and yet that the Holy Spirit should be specially called Love.

Just as all the writings of the Old Testament together in Holy Scripture are sometimes indicated by the name "the Law"—for example, when the apostle quotes a text from the prophet Isaiah that says, "With various tongues and with various lips will I speak to this people," he introduces it by saying, "It is written in the Law." And the Lord Himself says, "It is written in their Law, They hated me without a cause," even though this is found in the Psalms. Sometimes, however, what was given through Moses is specifically called the Law, as in "The Law and the Prophets were until John" and "On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets." Here, what is specifically called the Law is clearly what came from Mount Sinai. The Psalms are also included under the name of the Prophets, yet in another place the Savior Himself says, "All things must be fulfilled which are written in the Law, and the Prophets, and the Psalms concerning me." Here, by contrast, He intended the name Prophets to be understood as not including the Psalms. Therefore, the Law together with the Prophets and the Psalms is called the Law in a general sense, but the Law is also specifically called what was given through Moses. Similarly, the Prophets are referred to generally along with the Psalms, and they are also referred to specifically without the Psalms. Many other examples could be given to show that many names of things are used both in a general way and also specifically applied to particular things, but there is no need for a long discussion about something so clear. I have said this much so that no one should think it inappropriate for us to call the Holy Spirit Love just because both God the Father and God the Son can be called Love.

30. Just as sometimes all the utterances of the Old Testament together in the Holy Scriptures are signified by the name of the Law. For the apostle, in citing a text from the prophet Isaiah, where he says, With various tongues and with various lips will I speak to this people, yet prefaced it by, It is written in the Law. And the Lord Himself says, It is written in their Law, They hated me without a cause, whereas this is read in the Psalm. And sometimes that which was given by Moses is specially called the Law: as it is said, The Law and the Prophets were until John; and, On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets. Here, certainly, that is specially called the Law which was from Mount Sinai. And the Psalms, too, are signified under the name of the Prophets; and yet in another place the Saviour Himself says, All things must needs be fulfilled, which are written in the Law, and the Prophets, and the Psalms concerning me. Here, on the other side, He meant the name of Prophets to be taken as not including the Psalms. Therefore the Law with the Prophets and the Psalms taken together is called the Law universally, and the Law is also specially so called which was given by Moses. Likewise the Prophets are so called in common together with the Psalms, and they are also specially so called exclusive of the Psalms. And many other instances might be adduced to teach us, that many names of things are both put universally, and also specially applied to particular things, were it not that a long discourse is to be avoided in a plain case. I have said so much, lest any one should think that it was therefore unsuitable for us to call the Holy Spirit Love, because both God the Father and God the Son can be called Love.

Just as we call the only Word of God specifically by the name of Wisdom, even though the Holy Spirit and the Father Himself are also universally wisdom, so the Holy Spirit is specifically called by the name of Love, even though both the Father and the Son are also universally love. The Word of God, that is, the only-begotten Son of God, is explicitly called the Wisdom of God by the apostle, where he says, "Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God." But where the Holy Spirit is called Love must be discovered by careful examination of the language of the apostle John, who, after saying, "Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God," went on to say, "And everyone that loves is born of God, and knows God. He that loves not, knows not God; for God is love." Here, clearly, he has called that love God, which he said was of God; therefore God of God is love. But since both the Son is born of God the Father, and the Holy Spirit proceeds from God the Father, it is rightly asked which of them we ought to think is more properly called the love that is God. For the Father alone is God in such a way as not to be of God; and therefore the love that is God in such a way as to be of God is either the Son or the Holy Spirit. But when, in what follows, the apostle had mentioned the love of God, not the love by which we love Him, but the love by which He loved us and sent His Son to be a propitiation for our sins, and then had exhorted us also to love one another, and that so God would abide in us—because, that is, he had called God Love—immediately, in his wish to speak yet more clearly on the subject, "Hereby," he says, "we know that we dwell in Him, and He in us, because He has given us of His Spirit." Therefore the Holy Spirit, of whom He has given us, makes us to abide in God, and Him in us; and this is what love does. Therefore He is the God that is love. Finally, a little later, when he had repeated the same thing, and had said "God is love," he immediately added, "And he who abides in love, abides in God, and God abides in him"; which corresponds to what he had said above, "Hereby we know that we abide in Him, and He in us, because He has given us of His Spirit." He therefore is signified where we read that God is love. Therefore God the Holy Spirit, who proceeds from the Father, when He has been given to man, inflames him to the love of God and of his neighbor, and is Himself love. For man has no source from which to love God, unless from God; and therefore he says a little later, "Let us love Him, because He first loved us." The apostle Paul, too, says, "The love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us."

31. As, then, we call the only Word of God specially by the name of Wisdom, although universally both the Holy Spirit and the Father Himself is wisdom; so the Holy Spirit is specially called by the name of Love, although universally both the Father and the Son are love. But the Word of God, i.e. the only-begotten Son of God, is expressly called the Wisdom of God by the mouth of the apostle, where he says, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God. But where the Holy Spirit is called Love, is to be found by careful scrutiny of the language of John the apostle, who, after saying, Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God, has gone on to say, And every one that loves is born of God, and knows God. He that loves not, knows not God; for God is love. Here, manifestly, he has called that love God, which he said was of God; therefore God of God is love. But because both the Son is born of God the Father, and the Holy Spirit proceeds from God the Father, it is rightly asked which of them we ought here to think is the rather called the love that is God. For the Father only is so God as not to be of God; and hence the love that is so God as to be of God, is either the Son or the Holy Spirit. But when, in what follows, the apostle had mentioned the love of God, not that by which we love Him, but that by which He loved us, and sent His Son to be a propitiator for our sins, and thereupon had exhorted us also to love one another, and that so God would abide in us — because, namely, he had called God Love; immediately, in his wish to speak yet more expressly on the subject, Hereby, he says, know we that we dwell in Him, and He in us, because He has given us of His Spirit. Therefore the Holy Spirit, of whom He has given us, makes us to abide in God, and Him in us; and this it is that love does. Therefore He is the God that is love. Lastly, a little after, when he had repeated the same thing, and had said God is love, he immediately subjoined, And he who abides in love, abides in God, and God abides in him; whence he had said above, Hereby we know that we abide in Him, and He in us, because He has given us of His Spirit. He therefore is signified, where we read that God is love. Therefore God the Holy Spirit, who proceeds from the Father, when He has been given to man, inflames him to the love of God and of his neighbor, and is Himself love. For man has not whence to love God, unless from God; and therefore he says a little after, Let us love Him, because He first loved us. The Apostle Paul, too, says, The love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us.

There is no gift of God more excellent than this. It alone distinguishes the sons of the eternal kingdom from the sons of eternal perdition. Other gifts are also given by the Holy Spirit, but without love they are worthless. Therefore, unless the Holy Spirit is given to each person in such a way that it makes him love God and his neighbor, he is not moved from the left hand to the right. The Spirit is specifically called the Gift only because of love. And whoever does not have this love, even if he speaks with the tongues of men and angels, is just sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. And even if he has the gift of prophecy and knows all mysteries and all knowledge, and even if he has all faith so that he can remove mountains, he is nothing. And even if he gives all his possessions to feed the poor, and even if he gives his body to be burned, it profits him nothing. How great a good, then, is that without which such great goods bring no one to eternal life! But love or charity itself—for they are two names for one thing—if someone has it who does not speak with tongues, nor has the gift of prophecy, nor knows all mysteries and all knowledge, nor gives all his possessions to the poor (either because he has none to give or because some necessity prevents it), nor delivers his body to be burned (if no trial of such suffering comes to him), brings that person to the kingdom. In this way, even faith itself is only made profitable by love, since faith without love can indeed exist but cannot profit. Therefore the Apostle Paul also says, "In Christ Jesus neither circumcision avails anything, nor uncircumcision, but faith that works by love," thus distinguishing it from that faith by which even the devils believe and tremble. Love, therefore, which is of God and is God, is specially the Holy Spirit, by whom the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts, and by this love the whole Trinity dwells in us. Therefore, most rightly the Holy Spirit, although He is God, is also called the gift of God. And by that gift what else can properly be understood except love, which brings us to God, and without which any other gift of God whatsoever does not bring us to God?

32. There is no gift of God more excellent than this. It alone distinguishes the sons of the eternal kingdom and the sons of eternal perdition. Other gifts, too, are given by the Holy Spirit; but without love they profit nothing. Unless, therefore, the Holy Spirit is so far imparted to each, as to make him one who loves God and his neighbor, he is not removed from the left hand to the right. Nor is the Spirit specially called the Gift, unless on account of love. And he who has not this love, though he speak with the tongues of men and angels, is sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal; and though he have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge, and though he have all faith, so that he can remove mountains, he is nothing; and though he bestow all his goods to feed the poor, and though he give his body to be burned, it profits him nothing. How great a good, then, is that without which goods so great bring no one to eternal life! But love or charity itself — for they are two names for one thing — if he have it that does not speak with tongues, nor has the gift of prophecy, nor knows all mysteries and all knowledge, nor gives all his goods to the poor, either because he has none to give or because some necessity hinders, nor delivers his body to be burned, if no trial of such a suffering overtakes him, brings that man to the kingdom, so that faith itself is only rendered profitable by love, since faith without love can indeed exist, but cannot profit. And therefore also the Apostle Paul says, In Christ Jesus neither circumcision avails anything, nor uncircumcision, but faith that works by love: so distinguishing it from that faith by which even the devils believe and tremble. Love, therefore, which is of God and is God, is specially the Holy Spirit, by whom the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts, by which love the whole Trinity dwells in us. And therefore most rightly is the Holy Spirit, although He is God, called also the gift of God. And by that gift what else can properly be understood except love, which brings to God, and without which any other gift of God whatsoever does not bring to God?

Does this also need to be proven, that the Holy Spirit is called the gift of God in the sacred books? If people need this demonstrated, we have in the Gospel of John the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, who says, If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink: whoever believes in me, as the Scripture says, out of his belly will flow rivers of living water. The evangelist then adds, And this He spoke of the Spirit, which those who believe in Him would receive. Hence the apostle Paul also says, And we have all been made to drink into one Spirit. The question is whether that water which is the Holy Spirit is called the gift of God. Just as we find here that this water is the Holy Spirit, so we find elsewhere in the same Gospel that this water is called the gift of God. When the same Lord was talking with the Samaritan woman at the well, to whom He had said, Give me to drink, and she had answered that the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans, Jesus replied to her, If you had known the gift of God, and who it is that says to you, Give me to drink, you would have asked of Him, and He would have given you living water. The woman says to Him, Sir, you have nothing to draw with, and the well is deep: where then do you get this living water, etc.? Jesus answered and said to her, Everyone who drinks of this water will thirst again; but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never thirst; but the water that I will give him will be in him a fountain of water springing up to eternal life. Since this living water, as the evangelist has explained to us, is the Holy Spirit, without doubt the Spirit is the gift of God, of which the Lord says here, If you had known the gift of God, and who it is that says to you, Give me to drink, you would have asked of Him, and He would have given you living water. For what is in the one passage, Out of his belly will flow rivers of living water, is in the other, will be in him a fountain of water springing up to eternal life.

33. Is this too to be proved, that the Holy Spirit is called in the sacred books the gift of God? If people look for this too, we have in the Gospel according to John the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, who says, If any one thirst, let him come to me and drink: he that believes in me, as the Scripture says, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. And the evangelist has gone on further to add, And this He spoke of the Spirit, which they should receive who believe in Him. And hence Paul the apostle also says, And we have all been made to drink into one Spirit. The question then is, whether that water is called the gift of God which is the Holy Spirit. But as we find here that this water is the Holy Spirit, so we find elsewhere in the Gospel itself that this water is called the gift of God. For when the same Lord was talking with the woman of Samaria at the well, to whom He had said, Give me to drink, and she had answered that the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans, Jesus answered and said to her, If you had known the gift of God, and who it is that says to you, Give me to drink, you would have asked of Him, and He would have given you living water. The woman says unto Him, Sir, you have nothing to draw with, and the well is deep: whence then have you this living water, etc.? Jesus answered and said to her, Every one that drinks of this water shall thirst again; but whose shall drink of the water that I shall give him, shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him, shall be in him a fountain of water springing up unto eternal life. Because this living water, then, as the evangelist has explained to us, is the Holy Spirit, without doubt the Spirit is the gift of God, of which the Lord says here, If you had known the gift of God, and who it is that says unto you, Give me to drink, you would have asked of Him, and He would have given you living water. For that which is in the one passage, Out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water, is in the other, shall be in him a fountain of water springing up unto eternal life.

The apostle Paul also says, "To each of us is given grace according to the measure of the gift of Christ." Then, to show that by the gift of Christ he meant the Holy Spirit, he continues, "Therefore He says, 'He has ascended up on high, He has led captivity captive, and has given gifts to men.'" Everyone knows that the Lord Jesus, after ascending into heaven following His resurrection from the dead, gave the Holy Spirit. Those who believed were filled with Him and spoke in the tongues of all nations. Let no one object that Paul says "gifts" and not "gift," because he was quoting from the Psalm. In the Psalm it reads: "You have ascended up on high, You have led captivity captive, You have received gifts in men." This is how it appears in many manuscripts, especially the Greek ones, and this is how we have it translated from the Hebrew. The apostle therefore said "gifts" as the prophet did, not "gift." But whereas the prophet said "You have received gifts in men," the apostle preferred to say "He gave gifts to men." This allows the fullest meaning to be gathered from both expressions, one prophetic and one apostolic, because both possess the authority of divine utterance. Both are true: that He gave to men and that He received in men. He gave to men as the head to His own members. He Himself who gave also received in men, certainly as in His own members. Because of His own members, He cried from heaven, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" And concerning His own members He says, "Since you have done it to one of the least of these that are mine, you have done it unto me." Christ Himself therefore both gave from heaven and received on earth. Furthermore, both prophet and apostle have said "gifts" because many gifts, which are proper to each individual, are distributed in common to all the members of Christ by the Gift, which is the Holy Spirit. Each person does not have all gifts separately, but some have these and some have those, although all have the Gift itself by which what is proper to each is distributed to them, that is, the Holy Spirit. Elsewhere too, after mentioning many gifts, Paul says, "All these works that one and the self-same Spirit, dividing to each severally as He will." This language is also found in the Epistle to the Hebrews, where it is written, "God also bearing witness both with signs and wonders, and with various miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost." So here, when Paul had said, "He ascended up on high, He led captivity captive, He gave gifts to men," he continues, "But that He ascended, what is it but that He also first descended into the lower parts of the earth? He who descended is the same also that ascended up far above all heavens, that He might fill all things. And He gave some apostles, some prophets, and some evangelists, and some pastors and doctors." This is why gifts are spoken of, because as he says elsewhere, "Are all apostles? Are all prophets?" and so on. Here he has added, "For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the building up of the body of Christ." This is the house which, as the Psalm sings, is built up after the captivity, since the house of Christ, which is called His Church, is built up of those who have been rescued from the devil by whom they were held captive. He Himself led this captivity captive, who conquered the devil. To prevent the devil from drawing into eternal punishment those who were to become members of the Holy Head, He bound him first by the bonds of righteousness and then by those of might. The devil himself therefore is called captivity, which He led captive who ascended up on high and gave gifts to men, or received gifts in men.

34. Paul the apostle also says, To each of us is given grace according to the measure of the gift of Christ; and then, that he might show that by the gift of Christ he meant the Holy Spirit, he has gone on to add, Wherefore He says, He has ascended up on high, He has led captivity captive, and has given gifts to men. And every one knows that the Lord Jesus, when He had ascended into heaven after the resurrection from the dead, gave the Holy Spirit, with whom they who believed were filled, and spoke with the tongues of all nations. And let no one object that he says gifts, not gift: for he quoted the text from the Psalm. And in the Psalm it is read thus, You have ascended up on high, You have led captivity captive, You have received gifts in men. For so it stands in many mss., especially in the Greek mss., and so we have it translated from the Hebrew. The apostle therefore said gifts, as the prophet did, not gift. But whereas the prophet said, You have received gifts in men, the apostle has preferred saying, He gave gifts to men: and this in order that the fullest sense may be gathered from both expressions, the one prophetic, the other apostolic; because both possess the authority of a divine utterance. For both are true, as well that He gave to men, as that He received in men. He gave to men, as the head to His own members: He Himself that gave, received in men, no doubt as in His own members; on account of which, namely, His own members, He cried from heaven, Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? And of which, namely, His own members, He says, Since you have done it to one of the least of these that are mine, you have done it unto me. Christ Himself, therefore, both gave from heaven and received on earth. And further, both prophet and apostle have said gifts for this reason, because many gifts, which are proper to each, are divided in common to all the members of Christ, by the Gift, which is the Holy Spirit. For each severally has not all, but some have these and some have those; although all have the Gift itself by which that which is proper to each is divided to Him, i.e. the Holy Spirit. For elsewhere also, when he had mentioned many gifts, All these, he says, works that one and the self-same Spirit, dividing to each severally as He will. And this word is found also in the Epistle to the Hebrews, where it is written, God also bearing witness both with signs and wonders, and with various miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost. And so here, when he had said, He ascended up on high, He led captivity captive, He gave gifts to men, he says further, But that He ascended, what is it but that He also first descended into the lower parts of the earth? He who descended is the same also that ascended up far above all heavens, that He might fill all things. And He gave some apostles, some prophets, and some evangelists, and some pastors and doctors. (This we see is the reason why gifts are spoken of; because, as he says elsewhere, Are all apostles? Are all prophets? etc.) And here he has added, For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the building up of the body of Christ. This is the house which, as the Psalm sings, is built up after the captivity; since the house of Christ, which house is called His Church, is built up of those who have been rescued from the devil, by whom they were held captive. But He Himself led this captivity captive, who conquered the devil. And that he might not draw with him into eternal punishment those who were to become the members of the Holy Head, He bound him first by the bonds of righteousness, and then by those of might. The devil himself, therefore, is called captivity, which He led captive who ascended up on high, and gave gifts to men, or received gifts in men.

The apostle Peter, as we read in the canonical book that records the Acts of the Apostles, spoke to troubled Jews about Christ. When they asked, "Brothers, what shall we do? Tell us," he said to them, "Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit." We also read in the same book that Simon Magus wanted to give the apostles money so that he might receive power from them to give the Holy Spirit through laying on of hands. Peter said to him, "May your money perish with you, because you thought you could buy the gift of God with money." In another place in the same book, when Peter was speaking to Cornelius and those with him, announcing and preaching Christ, Scripture says, "While Peter was still speaking these words, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word, and the believers from among the circumcised who came with Peter were astonished, because the gift of the Holy Spirit was poured out even on the Gentiles. For they heard them speaking in tongues and praising God." When Peter later gave an account to the brothers in Jerusalem about his act of baptizing the uncircumcised, because the Holy Spirit had come upon them before baptism to settle the question, and the brothers in Jerusalem were troubled when they heard it, he said, after the rest of his words, "When I began to speak to them, the Holy Spirit fell upon them just as upon us in the beginning. And I remembered the word of the Lord, how He said, 'John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.' If therefore God gave them the same gift as He gave us who believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God from giving them the Holy Spirit?" There are many other scriptural testimonies that unanimously confirm that the Holy Spirit is the gift of God, insofar as He is given to those who through Him love God. But to collect them all would take too long. And what would be enough to satisfy those who are not satisfied with the ones we have already cited?

35. And Peter the apostle, as we read in that canonical book, wherein the Acts of the Apostles are recorded — when the hearts of the Jews were troubled as he spoke of Christ, and they said, Brethren, what shall we do? Tell us, — said to them, Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins: and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. And we read likewise in the same book, that Simon Magus desired to give money to the apostles, that he might receive power from them, whereby the Holy Spirit might be given by the laying on of his hands. And the same Peter said to him, Your money perish with you: because you have thought to purchase for money the gift of God. And in another place of the same book, when Peter was speaking to Cornelius, and to those who were with him, and was announcing and preaching Christ, the Scripture says, While Peter was still speaking these words, the Holy Spirit fell upon all them that heard the word; and they of the circumcision that believed, as many as came with Peter, were astonished, because that upon the Gentiles also the gift of the Holy Spirit was poured out. For they heard them speak with tongues, and magnify God. And when Peter afterwards was giving an account to the brethren that were at Jerusalem of this act of his, that he had baptized those who were not circumcised, because the Holy Spirit, to cut the knot of the question, had come upon them before they were baptized, and the brethren at Jerusalem were moved when they heard it, he says, after the rest of his words, And when I began to speak to them, the Holy Spirit fell upon them, as upon us in the beginning. And I remembered the word of the Lord, how He said, that John indeed baptized with water, but you shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit. If, therefore, He gave a like gift to them, as also to us who believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I, that I could hinder God from giving to them the Holy Spirit? And there are many other testimonies of the Scriptures, which unanimously attest that the Holy Spirit is the gift of God, in so far as He is given to those who by Him love God. But it is too long a task to collect them all. And what is enough to satisfy those who are not satisfied with those we have alleged?

Certainly they must be warned, since they now see that the Holy Spirit is called the gift of God, that when they hear of the gift of the Holy Spirit, they should understand this as the same kind of expression found in the phrase "the body of the flesh." Just as the body of the flesh is nothing other than the flesh itself, so the gift of the Holy Spirit is nothing other than the Holy Spirit himself. He is the gift of God insofar as he is given to those who receive him. But in himself he is God, even if he had never been given to anyone, because he was God co-eternal with the Father and the Son before he was given to anyone. Nor is he less than they are simply because they give and he is given. For he is given as God's gift in such a way that he also gives himself, being God. He cannot be said to lack his own power, since it is written of him, "The Spirit blows where it wills," and the apostle says, as I have already mentioned above, "All these things are the work of that same Spirit, distributing to each person individually as he wills." What we have here is not the creation of the one who is given and the authority of those who give, but the harmony of the given and the givers.

36. Certainly they must be warned, since they now see that the Holy Spirit is called the gift of God, that when they hear of the gift of the Holy Spirit, they should recognize therein that mode of speech which is found in the words, In the spoiling of the body of the flesh. For as the body of the flesh is nothing else but the flesh, so the gift of the Holy Spirit is nothing else but the Holy Spirit. He is then the gift of God, so far as He is given to those to whom He is given. But in Himself He is God, although He were given to no one, because He was God co-eternal with the Father and the Son before He was given to any one. Nor is He less than they, because they give, and He is given. For He is given as a gift of God in such way that He Himself also gives Himself as being God. For He cannot be said not to be in His own power, of whom it is said, The Spirit blows where it lists; and the apostle says, as I have already mentioned above, All these things works that selfsame Spirit, dividing to every man severally as He will. We have not here the creating of Him that is given, and the rule of them that give, but the concord of the given and the givers.

If Holy Scripture declares that God is love, and that love is from God, and works in us so that we remain in God and he in us, and we know this because he has given us his Spirit, then the Spirit himself is God, who is love. Furthermore, if there is no greater gift of God than love, and there is no greater gift of God than the Holy Spirit, what follows more naturally than that he himself is love, who is called both God and from God? And if the love by which the Father loves the Son, and the Son loves the Father, ineffably shows the communion of both, what is more fitting than that he should be specially called love, who is the Spirit common to both? For this is the sounder view both to believe and to understand: that the Holy Spirit is not the only love in that Trinity, yet he is not called love specially without reason, for the reasons we have given. Just as he is not the only Spirit or the only holy one in that Trinity, since both the Father is a Spirit and the Son is a Spirit, and both the Father is holy and the Son is holy—as piety does not doubt. Yet it is not without reason that he is specially called the Holy Spirit, because he is common to both, he is specially called what both are in common. Otherwise, if in that Trinity the Holy Spirit alone is love, then surely the Son too turns out to be the Son not only of the Father but also of the Holy Spirit. For he is both said and read in countless places to be the only-begotten Son of God the Father. So what the apostle says of God the Father is also true: "Who has delivered us from the power of darkness and has translated us into the kingdom of the Son of his own love." He did not say "of his own Son." If he had said that, he would have spoken most truly, just as he did speak most truly because he has often said it. But he says "the Son of his own love." Therefore the Son is also the Son of the Holy Spirit, if in that Trinity there is no love in God except the Holy Spirit. But since this is most absurd, it follows that the Holy Spirit is not the only love there, but is specially called so for the reasons I have sufficiently explained. And the words "Son of his own love" mean nothing else than his own beloved Son—the Son, in short, of his own substance. For the love in the Father, which exists in his ineffably simple nature, is nothing else than his very nature and substance itself—as we have already often said and are not ashamed to repeat often. And therefore the Son of his love is none other than he who is born of his substance.

37. Wherefore, if Holy Scripture proclaims that God is love, and that love is of God, and works this in us that we abide in God and He in us, and that hereby we know this, because He has given us of His Spirit, then the Spirit Himself is God, who is love. Next, if there be among the gifts of God none greater than love, and there is no greater gift of God than the Holy Spirit, what follows more naturally than that He is Himself love, who is called both God and of God? And if the love by which the Father loves the Son, and the Son loves the Father, ineffably demonstrates the communion of both, what is more suitable than that He should be specially called love, who is the Spirit common to both? For this is the sounder thing both to believe and to understand, that the Holy Spirit is not alone love in that Trinity, yet is not specially called love to no purpose, for the reasons we have alleged; just as He is not alone in that Trinity either a Spirit or holy, since both the Father is a Spirit, and the Son is a Spirit; and both the Father is holy, and the Son is holy — as piety doubts not. And yet it is not to no purpose that He is specially called the Holy Spirit; for because He is common to both, He is specially called that which both are in common. Otherwise, if in that Trinity the Holy Spirit alone is love, then doubtless the Son too turns out to be the Son, not of the Father only, but also of the Holy Spirit. For He is both said and read in countless places to be so — the only-begotten Son of God the Father; as that what the apostle says of God the Father is true too: Who has delivered us from the power of darkness and has translated us into the kingdom of the Son of His own love. He did not say, of His own Son. If He had so said, He would have said it most truly, just as He did say it most truly, because He has often said it; but He says, the Son of His own love. Therefore He is the Son also of the Holy Spirit, if there is in that Trinity no love in God except the Holy Spirit. And if this is most absurd, it remains that the Holy Spirit is not alone therein love, but is specially so called for the reasons I have sufficiently set forth; and that the words, Son of His own love, mean nothing else than His own beloved Son — the Son, in short, of His own substance. For the love in the Father, which is in His ineffably simple nature, is nothing else than His very nature and substance itself — as we have already often said, and are not ashamed of often repeating. And hence the Son of His love, is none other than He who is born of His substance.

Wherefore the logic of Eunomius, from whom the Eunomian heretics sprang, is ridiculous. For when he could not understand, and would not believe, that the only-begotten Word of God, by which all things were made, is the Son of God by nature — that is, born of the ousia (substance) of the Father — he claimed that He was not the Son according to His own nature or ousia or essence, but the Son of the will of God. He meant to assert that the will by which God begot the Son was something accidental and optional to God — meaning it in the same way that we ourselves sometimes will something which we did not will before, as though it were not for these very reasons that our nature is seen to be changeable — a thing which God forbid we should believe about God. For it is written, Many are the thoughts in the heart of man, but the counsel of the Lord abides forever, for no other reason except that we may understand or believe that as God is eternal, so is His counsel for eternity, and therefore unchangeable, as He himself is. And what is said of thoughts can most truly be said also of the will: there are many wills in the heart of man, but the will of the Lord abides forever. Some, again, to escape saying that the only-begotten Word is the Son of the counsel or will of God, have affirmed that the same Word is the counsel or will itself of the Father. But it is better in my judgment to say counsel of counsel, and will of will, as ousia of ousia, wisdom of wisdom, so that we may not be led into that absurdity, which we have already refuted, and say that the Son makes the Father wise or willing, if the Father does not have in His own ousia either counsel or will. It was certainly a sharp answer that somebody gave to the heretic, who very cleverly asked him whether God begot the Son willingly or unwillingly, so that if he said unwillingly, it would follow most absurdly that God was miserable; but if willingly, he would immediately infer, as though by an unbeatable argument, what he was aiming at, namely that He was the Son, not of His nature, but of His will. But that other person, with great alertness, asked him in return whether God the Father was God willingly or unwillingly; so that if he answered unwillingly, that misery would follow, which to believe of God is sheer madness; and if he said willingly, it would be replied to him, Then He is God too by His own will, not by His nature. What remained, then, except that he should be silent and recognize that he was himself bound by his own question in an unsolvable knot? But if any person in the Trinity is also to be specially called the will of God, this name, like love, is better suited to the Holy Spirit; for what else is love, except will?

38. Wherefore the logic of Eunomius, from whom the Eunomian heretics sprang, is ridiculous. For when he could not understand, and would not believe, that the only-begotten Word of God, by which all things were made is the Son of God by nature, — i.e. born of the substance of the Father — he alleged that He was not the Son of His own nature or substance or essence, but the Son of the will of God; so as to mean to assert that the will by which he begot the Son was something accidental [and optional] to God — to wit, in that way that we ourselves sometimes will something which before we did not will, as though it was not for these very things that our nature is perceived to be changeable — a thing which far be it from us to believe of God. For it is written, Many are the thoughts in the heart of man, but the counsel of the Lord abides for ever, for no other reason except that we may understand or believe that as God is eternal, so is His counsel for eternity, and therefore unchangeable, as He himself is. And what is said of thoughts can most truly be said also of the will: there are many wills in the heart of man, but the will of the Lord abides forever. Some, again, to escape saying that the only-begotten Word is the Son of the counsel or will of God, have affirmed the same Word to be the counsel or will itself of the Father. But it is better in my judgment to say counsel of counsel, and will of will, as substance of substance, wisdom of wisdom, that we may not be led into that absurdity, which we have refuted already, and say that the Son makes the Father wise or willing, if the Father has not in His own substance either counsel or will. It was certainly a sharp answer that somebody gave to the heretic, who most subtly asked him whether God begot the Son willingly or unwillingly, in order that if he said unwillingly, it would follow most absurdly that God was miserable; but if willingly, he would immediately infer, as though by an invincible reason, that at which he was aiming, viz. that He was the Son, not of His nature, but of His will. But that other, with great wakefulness, demanded of him in turn, whether God the Father was God willingly or unwillingly; in order that if he answered unwillingly, that misery would follow, which to believe of God is sheer madness; and if he said willingly, it would be replied to him, Then He is God too by His own will, not by His nature. What remained, then, except that he should hold his peace, and discern that he was himself bound by his own question in an insoluble bond? But if any person in the Trinity is also to be specially called the will of God, this name, like love, is better suited to the Holy Spirit; for what else is love, except will?

I see that my argument in this book about the Holy Spirit, based on Holy Scripture, is quite sufficient for faithful people who already know that the Holy Spirit is God and is not of a different ousia, nor inferior to the Father and the Son—as we have demonstrated to be true in earlier books, according to the same Scriptures. We have also reasoned from the created order that God made, and, as far as we were able, have urged those who demand rational explanation on such matters to see and understand His invisible things, as far as they can, through those things which are made, and especially through the rational or intellectual creature which is made according to the image of God. Through this, so to speak, as through a glass, they might discern as far as they are able—if they are able—the Trinity which is God, in our own memory, understanding, and will. If anyone thoughtfully considers these three things as divinely established by nature in his own mind, and remembers through memory, contemplates through understanding, and embraces through love how great a reality exists in the mind by which even the eternal and unchangeable nature can be remembered, seen, and desired, that person certainly discovers an image of that supreme Trinity. And he ought to direct his whole life toward remembering, seeing, and loving that supreme Trinity, so that he may recollect, contemplate, and delight in it. But I have warned him, as much as seemed adequate, that he must not compare this image—fashioned by that Trinity yet corrupted for the worse by his own fault—to that same Trinity in such a way as to think it resembles it in every respect. Rather, he should recognize in that likeness, whatever its quality, a great unlikeness as well.

39. I see that my argument in this book respecting the Holy Spirit, according to the Holy Scripture, is quite enough for faithful men who know already that the Holy Spirit is God, and not of another substance, nor less than the Father and the Son — as we have shown to be true in the former books, according to the same Scriptures. We have reasoned also from the creature which God made, and, as far as we could, have warned those who demand a reason on such subjects to behold and understand His invisible things, so far as they could, by those things which are made and especially by the rational or intellectual creature which is made after the image of God; through which glass, so to say, they might discern as far as they could, if they could, the Trinity which is God, in our own memory, understanding, will. Which three things, if any one intelligently regards as by nature divinely appointed in his own mind, and remembers by memory, contemplates by understanding, embraces by love, how great a thing that is in the mind, whereby even the eternal and unchangeable nature can be recollected, beheld, desired, doubtless that man finds an image of that highest Trinity. And he ought to refer the whole of his life to the remembering, seeing, loving that highest Trinity, in order that he may recollect, contemplate, be delighted by it. But I have warned him, so far as seemed sufficient, that he must not so compare this image thus wrought by that Trinity, and by his own fault changed for the worse, to that same Trinity as to think it in all points like to it, but rather that he should discern in that likeness, of whatever sort it be, a great unlikeness also.

I have certainly done my best, not to make the thing visible face to face, but rather to show it through this likeness in an enigma, however slightly, by inference, in our memory and understanding, to suggest God the Father and God the Son: that is, God the begetter, who has in some way spoken through His own co-eternal Word everything that He has in His substance; and God His Word Himself, who Himself has nothing either more or less in substance than is in the Father, who has begotten the Word not falsely but truly. I have assigned to memory everything we know, even when we are not thinking about it, but to understanding I have assigned the formation of thought according to a certain particular mode. For we usually say we understand something when, by thinking about it, we have discovered it to be true; and this is what we then store again in memory. But there is an even more hidden depth of our memory, where we first discovered this also when we thought about it, and where an inner word is begotten that belongs to no language—like knowledge of knowledge, vision of vision, and understanding that appears in reflective thought; understanding that had already existed beforehand in the memory but was hidden there, although unless thought itself also had some kind of memory of its own, it would not return to those things it had left in memory while it turned to think about other things.

40. I have undoubtedly taken pains so far as I could, not indeed so that the thing might be seen face to face, but that it might be seen by this likeness in an enigma, in how small a degree soever, by conjecture, in our memory and understanding, to intimate God the Father and God the Son: i.e. God the begetter, who has in some way spoken by His own co-eternal Word all things that He has in His substance; and God His Word Himself, who Himself has nothing either more or less in substance than is in Him, who, not lyingly but truly, has begotten the Word; and I have assigned to memory everything that we know, even if we were not thinking of it, but to understanding the formation after a certain special mode of the thought. For we are usually said to understand what, by thinking of it, we have found to be true; and this it is again that we leave in the memory. But that is a still more hidden depth of our memory, wherein we found this also first when we thought of it, and wherein an inner word is begotten such as belongs to no tongue — as it were, knowledge of knowledge, vision of vision, and understanding which appears in [reflective] thought; of understanding which had indeed existed before in the memory, but was latent there, although, unless the thought itself had also some sort of memory of its own, it would not return to those things which it had left in the memory while it turned to think of other things.

I have shown nothing in this enigma about the Holy Spirit that might seem like Him, except our own will, or love, or affection, which is a stronger form of will. Our natural will is affected in various ways depending on what objects are near us or come to our attention, which either attract or repel us. What does this mean? Should we say that when our will is right, it doesn't know what to desire or what to avoid? Moreover, if it does know, then it clearly has its own kind of knowledge, which cannot exist without memory and understanding. Or should we listen to anyone who claims that love doesn't know what it's doing, when it acts rightly? Just as there are both understanding and love in that primary memory where we find stored what we can think about—because we also find these two things there when we discover through thinking that we both understand and love something, which were already there even when we weren't thinking about them—and just as there are memory and love in that understanding which is formed by thought (the true word we speak inwardly without using any human language when we express what we know, because our thought's focus only returns to something by remembering it and only wants to return by loving it), so too love, which combines the vision present in memory and the vision of thought formed from it like parent and offspring, would not know what to love rightly unless it had knowledge of what it desired, which it cannot have without memory and understanding.

41. But I have shown nothing in this enigma respecting the Holy Spirit such as might appear to be like Him, except our own will, or love, or affection, which is a stronger will, since our will which we have naturally is variously affected, according as various objects are adjacent or occur to it, by which we are attracted or offended. What, then, is this? Are we to say that our will, when it is right, knows not what to desire, what to avoid? Further, if it knows, doubtless then it has a kind of knowledge of its own, such as cannot be without memory and understanding. Or are we to listen to any one who should say that love knows not what it does, which does not do wrongly? As, then, there are both understanding and love in that primary memory wherein we find provided and stored up that to which we can come in thought, because we find also those two things there, when we find by thinking that we both understand and love anything; which things were there too when we were not thinking of them: and as there are memory and love in that understanding, which is formed by thought, which true word we say inwardly without the tongue of any nation when we say what we know; for the gaze of our thought does not return to anything except by remembering it, and does not care to return unless by loving it: so love, which combines the vision brought about in the memory, and the vision of the thought formed thereby, as if parent and offspring, would not know what to love rightly unless it had a knowledge of what it desired, which it cannot have without memory and understanding.

But since these things exist in one person, as they do in a human being, someone might say to us: These three things—memory, understanding, and love—are mine, not their own. They don't act for themselves, but for me; or rather, I act through them. I am the one who remembers through memory, understands through understanding, and loves through love. When I direct my mind's eye to my memory and speak in my heart about something I know, a true word is born from my knowledge. Both of these are mine—both the knowledge and the word. I am the one who knows, and I am the one who speaks in my heart about what I know. When I search my memory by thinking and discover that I understand and love something—an understanding and love that were already there before I thought about them—it is my own understanding and my own love that I find in my own memory. I am the one who understands, and I am the one who loves, not those things themselves. Similarly, when my thought is mindful and wants to return to things it had left in memory, and to understand and observe them and speak them inwardly, it is my own memory that is mindful, and it is my own will, not its will, by which it wants these things. When my love itself remembers and understands what it should desire and what it should avoid, it remembers by my memory, not its own, and it understands what it intelligently loves by my understanding, not its own. In short, through all these three things, it is I who remember, I who understand, I who love—I who am neither memory, nor understanding, nor love, but who possess them. These things, then, can be said by a single person who has these three things but is not these three things. But in the simplicity of that Highest Nature, which is God, although there is one God, there are three persons: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

42. But since these are in one person, as man is, some one may say to us, These three things, memory, understanding, and love, are mine, not their own; neither do they do that which they do for themselves, but for me, or rather I do it by them. For it is I who remember by memory, and understand by understanding, and love by love: and when I direct the mind's eye to my memory, and so say in my heart the thing I know, and a true word is begotten of my knowledge, both are mine, both the knowledge certainly and the word. For it is I who know, and it is I who say in my heart the thing I know. And when I come to find in my memory by thinking that I understand and love anything, which understanding and love were there also before I thought thereon, it is my own understanding and my own love that I find in my own memory, whereby it is I that understand, and I that love, not those things themselves. Likewise, when my thought is mindful, and wills to return to those things which it had left in the memory, and to understand and behold them, and say them inwardly, it is my own memory that is mindful, and it is my own, not its will, wherewith it wills. When my very love itself, too, remembers and understands what it ought to desire and what to avoid, it remembers by my, not by its own memory; and understands that which it intelligently loves by my, not by its own, understanding. In brief, by all these three things, it is I that remember, I that understand, I that love, who am neither memory, nor understanding, nor love, but who have them. These things, then, can be said by a single person, which has these three, but is not these three. But in the simplicity of that Highest Nature, which is God, although there is one God, there are three persons, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

This trinity itself, then, is different from the image of a trinity in something else. Because of this image, the thing that contains these three things is also called an image, just as both a wooden panel and the picture painted on it are together called an image. But because of the picture painted on it, the panel itself is also called an image. However, in that Highest Trinity, which is incomparably above all things, there is such great indivisibility that while a trinity of three people cannot be called one person, in that Trinity there both is said to be and truly is one God. That Trinity is not in one God, but is one God. Also, unlike this image in the case of man, which has these three things but is one person, it is not the same with the Trinity. Instead, there are three persons: the Father of the Son, the Son of the Father, and the Spirit of both Father and Son. For although memory in man—especially that memory which animals do not have, namely the memory by which intelligible things are contained without having entered through the bodily senses—has in this image of the Trinity, according to its own small measure, some kind of likeness to the Father, though incomparably unequal; and likewise understanding in man, which is formed through the intention of thought when what is known is spoken and there is a word of the heart belonging to no tongue, has in its great disparity some likeness to the Son; and love in man, which proceeds from knowledge and joins memory and understanding as something common to parent and offspring and is understood to be neither parent nor offspring, has in that image some extremely unequal likeness to the Holy Spirit—nevertheless, it is not the case that, as in that image of the Trinity these three are not one man but belong to one man, so in the Highest Trinity itself, of which this is an image, these three belong to one God. Rather, they are one God, and these are three persons, not one. This is certainly a wonderfully inexpressible thing, or inexpressibly wonderful, that while this image of the Trinity is one person, the Highest Trinity itself is three persons, yet that Trinity of three persons is more indivisible than this Trinity of one person. For that Trinity, in the nature of Divinity, or perhaps better, Deity, is what it is, and is mutually and always unchangeably equal. There was no time when it was not or when it was otherwise, and there will be no time when it will not be or when it will be otherwise. But these three things that exist in the inadequate image, although they are not separated in space (for they are not bodies), are nevertheless in this present life separated from each other in magnitude. For even though there are no separate masses in them, this does not prevent us from seeing that memory is greater than understanding in one person, but the opposite in another, and that in yet another person these two are surpassed by the greatness of love—and this is true whether the two themselves are equal to one another or not. And so each two compared to each one, each one compared to each two, and each one compared to each one: the lesser are surpassed by the greater. And when they have been healed of all infirmity and are mutually equal, not even then will that thing which by grace will not be changed be made equal to that which by nature cannot change, because the creature cannot be made equal to the Creator. Even when it is healed from all infirmity, it will still be subject to change.

43. A thing itself, then, which is a trinity is different from the image of a trinity in some other thing; by reason of which image, at the same time that also in which these three things are is called an image; just as both the panel, and the picture painted on it, are at the same time called an image; but by reason of the picture painted on it, the panel also is called by the name of image. But in that Highest Trinity, which is incomparably above all things, there is so great an indivisibility, that whereas a trinity of men cannot be called one man, in that, there both is said to be and is one God, nor is that Trinity in one God, but it is one God. Nor, again, as that image in the case of man has these three things but is one person, so is it with the Trinity; but therein are three persons, the Father of the Son, and the Son of the Father, and the Spirit of both Father and Son. For although the memory in the case of man, and especially that memory which beasts have not — viz. the memory by which things intelligible are so contained as that they have not entered that memory through the bodily senses — has in this image of the Trinity, in proportion to its own small measure, a likeness of the Father, incomparably unequal, yet of some sort, whatever it be: and likewise the understanding in the case of man, which by the purpose of the thought is formed thereby, when that which is known is said, and there is a word of the heart belonging to no tongue, has in its own great disparity some likeness of the Son; and love in the case of man proceeding from knowledge, and combining memory and understanding, as though common to parent and offspring, whereby it is understood to be neither parent nor offspring, has in that image, some, however exceedingly unequal, likeness of the Holy Spirit: it is nevertheless not the case, that, as in that image of the Trinity, these three are not one man, but belong to one man, so in the Highest Trinity itself, of which this is an image, these three belong to one God, but they are one God, and these are three persons, not one. A thing certainly wonderfully ineffable, or ineffably wonderful, that while this image of the Trinity is one person, but the Highest Trinity itself is three persons, yet that Trinity of three persons is more indivisible than this of one. For that [Trinity], in the nature of the Divinity, or perhaps better Deity, is that which it is, and is mutually and always unchangeably equal: and there was no time when it was not, or when it was otherwise; and there will be no time when it will not be, or when it will be otherwise. But these three that are in the inadequate image, although they are not separate in place, for they are not bodies, yet are now in this life mutually separate in magnitude. For that there are therein no several bulks, does not hinder our seeing that memory is greater than understanding in one man, but the contrary in another; and that in yet another these two are overpassed by the greatness of love; and this whether the two themselves are or are not equal to one another. And so each two by each one, and each one by each two, and each one by each one: the less are surpassed by the greater. And when they have been healed of all infirmity, and are mutually equal, not even then will that thing which by grace will not be changed, be made equal to that which by nature cannot change, because the creature cannot be equalled to the Creator, and when it shall be healed from all infirmity, will be changed.

When the promised sight comes to us face to face, we will see this not only incorporeal but also absolutely indivisible and truly unchangeable Trinity far more clearly and certainly than we now see its image, which we ourselves are. Yet those who see through this glass and in this enigma, as is permitted in this life, are not those who merely observe in their own mind the things we have arranged and emphasized for them. Rather, they are those who see this as an image, so that they can refer what they see—in whatever way possible—to Him whose image it is, and to see that reality also by inference, which they see through the image by observation, since they cannot yet see face to face. For the apostle does not say "We see now a glass," but "We see now through a glass."

44. But when the sight shall have come which is promised anew to us face to face, we shall see this not only incorporeal but also absolutely indivisible and truly unchangeable Trinity far more clearly and certainly than we now see its image which we ourselves are: and yet they who see through this glass and in this enigma, as it is permitted in this life to see, are not those who behold in their own mind the things which we have set in order and pressed upon them; but those who see this as if an image, so as to be able to refer what they see, in some way be it what it may, to Him whose image it is, and to see that also by conjecturing, which they see through the image by beholding, since they cannot yet see face to face. For the apostle does not say, We see now a glass, but, We see now through a glass.

Those who see their own mind, in whatever way that is possible, and in it the Trinity I have discussed in many ways as best I could, yet do not believe or understand it to be an image of God, do indeed see a mirror, but they do not see through the mirror the One who is now to be seen through the mirror. They do not even recognize that the mirror they see is a mirror—that is, an image. If they knew this, perhaps they would understand that the One whose mirror this is should be sought through it, and somehow provisionally seen, with genuine faith purifying their hearts, so that the One who is now seen through a mirror may be able to be seen face to face. But if they reject this faith that purifies the heart, what do they gain by understanding the most intricate arguments about the nature of the human mind, except that they are condemned by the witness of their own understanding? They certainly would not struggle so much in understanding and scarcely arrive at anything certain if they were not trapped in the darkness of punishment and weighed down by the corruptible body that presses down the soul. And for what fault other than sin is this evil inflicted on them? Therefore, being warned by the severity of such a great evil, they ought to follow the Lamb who takes away the sins of the world.

They, then, who see their own mind, in whatever way that is possible, and in it that Trinity of which I have treated as I could in many ways, and yet do not believe or understand it to be an image of God, see indeed a glass, but do not so far see through the glass Him who is now to be seen through the glass, that they do not even know the glass itself which they see to be a glass, i.e. an image. And if they knew this, perhaps they would feel that He too whose glass this is, should by it be sought, and somehow provisionally be seen, an unfeigned faith purging their hearts, that He who is now seen through a glass may be able to be seen face to face. And if they despise this faith that purifies the heart, what do they accomplish by understanding the most subtle disputes concerning the nature of the human mind, unless that they be condemned also by the witness of their own understanding? And they would certainly not so fail in understanding, and hardly arrive at anything certain, were they not involved in penal darkness, and burdened with the corruptible body that presses down the soul. And for what demerit save that of sin is this evil inflicted on them? Wherefore, being warned by the magnitude of so great an evil, they ought to follow the Lamb that takes away the sins of the world.

For if any belong to Him, although they are far less intelligent than those others, yet when they are freed from the body at the end of this life, the hostile powers have no right to hold them. For that Lamb who was slain by them without owing any debt of sin has conquered them, but not by the strength of power before He had done so by the righteousness of blood. And freed accordingly from the power of the devil, they are carried up by holy angels, being set free from all evils by the mediator of God and men, the man Christ Jesus. Since by the harmonious testimony of the Divine Scriptures, both Old and New, both those by which Christ was foretold and those by which He was proclaimed, there is no other name under heaven by which men must be saved. And when cleansed from all contamination of corruption, they are placed in peaceful dwelling places until they take their bodies again—their own bodies, but now incorruptible—to adorn, not to burden them. For this is the will of the best and most wise Creator, that the spirit of a man, when piously subject to God, should have a body happily subject to it, and that this happiness should last forever.

For if any belong to Him, although far duller in intellect than those, yet when they are freed from the body at the end of this life, the envious powers have no right to hold them. For that Lamb that was slain by them without any debt of sin has conquered them; but not by the might of power before He had done so by the righteousness of blood. And free accordingly from the power of the devil, they are borne up by holy angels, being set free from all evils by the mediator of God and men, the man Christ Jesus. Since by the harmonious testimony of the Divine Scriptures, both Old and New, both those by which Christ was foretold, and those by which He was announced, there is no other name under heaven whereby men must be saved. And when purged from all contagion of corruption, they are placed in peaceful abodes until they take their bodies again, their own, but now incorruptible, to adorn, not to burden them. For this is the will of the best and most wise Creator, that the spirit of a man, when piously subject to God, should have a body happily subject, and that this happiness should last forever.

Chapter 25.– The Question Why the Holy Spirit is Not Begotten, and How He Proceeds from the Father and the Son, Will Only Be Understood When We are in Bliss.

There we will see the truth without any difficulty and will enjoy it completely, in the clearest and most certain way. We will no longer be searching for answers with a reasoning mind, but will understand through contemplation why the Holy Spirit is not a Son, even though He proceeds from the Father. In that light there will be no room for questions. But here, my own experience has shown me how difficult this is—and it will certainly also appear so to those who carefully and thoughtfully read what I have written. In the second book I promised that I would discuss this matter elsewhere, yet whenever I have tried to explain it by means of the created image of it that we ourselves are, no matter what I meant to say, adequate words completely failed me. In fact, even in my very understanding I felt that I had achieved effort rather than accomplishment. I did find in one person, such as a human being, an image of that highest Trinity, and I wanted, especially in the ninth book, to illustrate and make clearer the relationship of the Three Persons through what is subject to time and change. But three things belonging to one person cannot properly correspond to those Three Persons, as human reasoning requires; and this we have demonstrated in this fifteenth book.

45. There we shall see the truth without any difficulty, and shall enjoy it to the full, most clear and most certain. Nor shall we be inquiring into anything by a mind that reasons, but shall discern by a mind that contemplates, why the Holy Spirit is not a Son, although He proceeds from the Father. In that light there will be no place for inquiry: but here, by experience itself it has appeared to me so difficult — as beyond doubt it will likewise appear to them also who shall carefully and intelligently read what I have written — that although in the second book I promised that I would speak thereof in another place, yet as often as I have desired to illustrate it by the creaturely image of it which we ourselves are, so often, let my meaning be of what sort it might, did adequate utterance entirely fail me; nay, even in my very meaning I felt that I had attained to endeavor rather than accomplishment. I had indeed found in one person, such as is a man, an image of that Highest Trinity, and had desired, especially in the ninth book, to illustrate and render more intelligible the relation of the Three Persons by that which is subject to time and change. But three things belonging to one person cannot suit those Three Persons, as man's purpose demands; and this we have demonstrated in this fifteenth book.

In the highest Trinity, which is God, there are no intervals of time by which it could be shown or even investigated whether the Son was born from the Father first and then afterward the Holy Spirit proceeded from both, since Holy Scripture calls Him the Spirit of both. For He is the one of whom the apostle says, "But because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts," and He is the one of whom the same Son says, "For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father who speaks in you." Many other testimonies of the Divine Word prove that the Spirit, who is specifically called the Holy Spirit in the Trinity, is of the Father and of the Son. The Son Himself likewise says of Him, "Whom I will send to you from the Father," and in another place, "Whom the Father will send in my name." We are taught that He proceeds from both, because the Son Himself says, "He proceeds from the Father." And when He had risen from the dead and appeared to His disciples, He breathed on them and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit," thereby showing that He proceeded also from Himself. And the Spirit is that very power that went out from Him, as we read in the Gospel, and healed them all.

Further, in that Highest Trinity which is God, there are no intervals of time, by which it could be shown, or at least inquired, whether the Son was born of the Father first and then afterwards the Holy Spirit proceeded from both; since Holy Scripture calls Him the Spirit of both. For it is He of whom the apostle says, But because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts: and it is He of whom the same Son says, For it is not ye who speak, but the Spirit of your Father who speaks in you. And it is proved by many other testimonies of the Divine Word, that the Spirit, who is specially called in the Trinity the Holy Spirit, is of the Father and of the Son: of whom likewise the Son Himself says, Whom I will send unto you from the Father; and in another place, Whom the Father will send in my name. And we are so taught that He proceeds from both, because the Son Himself says, He proceeds from the Father. And when He had risen from the dead, and had appeared to His disciples, He breathed upon them, and said, Receive the Holy Ghost, so as to show that He proceeded also from Himself. And Itself is that very power that went out from Him, as we read in the Gospel, and healed them all.

But the reason why, after His resurrection, He gave the Holy Spirit twice—first on earth and then sent Him from heaven—is, in my judgment, this: love is poured into our hearts through that very Gift, by which we love God and our neighbors according to those two commandments on which all the law and the prophets depend. And Jesus Christ, to signify this, gave the Holy Spirit once on earth for the love of neighbor, and a second time from heaven for the love of God. And if some other reason might perhaps be given for this double gift of the Holy Spirit, we should not doubt in any case that the same Holy Spirit was given when Jesus breathed on them—the one of whom He soon says, "Go, baptize all nations in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," where this Trinity is especially revealed to us. It is therefore He who was also given from heaven on the day of Pentecost, that is, ten days after the Lord ascended into heaven. How, then, is He not God who gives the Holy Spirit? Indeed, how great a God is He who gives God! For none of His disciples gave the Holy Spirit, since they prayed that He might come upon those on whom they laid their hands; they did not give Him themselves. And the Church preserves this custom even now with her leaders. Finally, Simon Magus also, when he offered the apostles money, does not say, "Give me also this power, that I may give the Holy Spirit," but "that on whomever I lay my hands, he may receive the Holy Spirit." Because Scripture had not said before, "And Simon, seeing that the apostles gave the Holy Spirit," but had said, "And Simon, seeing that the Holy Spirit was given by the laying on of the apostles' hands." Therefore the Lord Jesus Christ Himself not only gave the Holy Spirit as God, but also received it as man, and therefore He is said to be full of grace and of the Holy Spirit. And in the Acts of the Apostles it is written more plainly of Him, "Because God anointed Him with the Holy Spirit"—certainly not with visible oil but with the gift of grace that is signified by the visible ointment with which the Church anoints the baptized. And Christ was certainly not anointed with the Holy Spirit at that moment when He, as a dove, descended upon Him at His baptism. For at that time He chose to prefigure His body, that is, His Church, in which especially the baptized receive the Holy Spirit. But He is to be understood to have been anointed with that mystical and invisible anointing when the Word of God was made flesh, that is, when human nature, without any preceding merits from good works, was joined to God the Word in the womb of the Virgin, so that together with it He became one person. Therefore we confess that He was born of the Holy Spirit and of the Virgin Mary. For it is completely absurd to believe that He received the Holy Spirit when He was nearly thirty years old—for He was baptized by John at that age—but rather that He came to baptism not only without any sin at all, but also not without the Holy Spirit. For if it was written of His servant and forerunner John himself, "He shall be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother's womb," because, although generated by his father, he received the Holy Spirit when formed in the womb, what must be understood and believed about the man Christ, whose very conception in the flesh was not carnal but spiritual? Both natures, the human as well as the divine, are shown in what is also written of Him: that He received from the Father the promise of the Holy Spirit, and poured forth the Holy Spirit—seeing that He received as man and poured forth as God. And we indeed can receive that gift according to our small measure, but we certainly cannot pour it forth upon others; but for this to happen, we invoke over them God, by whom this is accomplished.

46. But the reason why, after His resurrection, He both gave the Holy Spirit, first on earth, and afterwards sent Him from heaven, is in my judgment this: that love is shed abroad in our hearts, by that Gift itself, whereby we love God and our neighbors, according to those two commandments, on which hang all the law and the prophets. And Jesus Christ, in order to signify this, gave to them the Holy Spirit, once upon earth, on account of the love of our neighbor, and a second time from heaven, on account of the love of God. And if some other reason may perhaps be given for this double gift of the Holy Spirit, at any rate we ought not to doubt that the same Holy Spirit was given when Jesus breathed upon them, of whom He by and by says, Go, baptize all nations in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, where this Trinity is especially commended to us. It is therefore He who was also given from heaven on the day of Pentecost, i.e. ten days after the Lord ascended into heaven. How, therefore, is He not God, who gives the Holy Spirit? Nay, how great a God is He who gives God! For no one of His disciples gave the Holy Spirit, since they prayed that He might come upon those upon whom they laid their hands: they did not give Him themselves. And the Church preserves this custom even now in the case of her rulers. Lastly, Simon Magus also, when he offered the apostles money, does not say, Give me also this power, that I may give the Holy Spirit; but, that on whomsoever I may lay my hands, he may receive the Holy Spirit. Because neither had the Scriptures said before, And Simon, seeing that the apostles gave the Holy Spirit; but it had said, And Simon, seeing that the Holy Spirit was given by the laying on of the apostles' hands. Therefore also the Lord Jesus Christ Himself not only gave the Holy Spirit as God, but also received it as man, and therefore He is said to be full of grace, and of the Holy Spirit. And in the Acts of the Apostles it is more plainly written of Him, Because God anointed Him with the Holy Spirit. Certainly not with visible oil but with the gift of grace which is signified by the visible ointment wherewith the Church anoints the baptized. And Christ was certainly not then anointed with the Holy Spirit, when He, as a dove, descended upon Him at His baptism. For at that time He deigned to prefigure His body, i.e. His Church, in which especially the baptized receive the Holy Spirit. But He is to be understood to have been then anointed with that mystical and invisible unction, when the Word of God was made flesh, i.e. when human nature, without any precedent merits of good works, was joined to God the Word in the womb of the Virgin, so that with it it became one person. Therefore it is that we confess Him to have been born of the Holy Spirit and of the Virgin Mary. For it is most absurd to believe Him to have received the Holy Spirit when He was near thirty years old: for at that age He was baptized by John; but that He came to baptism as without any sin at all, so not without the Holy Spirit. For if it was written of His servant and forerunner John himself, He shall be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother's womb, because, although generated by his father, yet he received the Holy Spirit when formed in the womb; what must be understood and believed of the man Christ, of whose flesh the very conception was not carnal, but spiritual? Both natures, too, as well the human as the divine, are shown in that also that is written of Him, that He received of the Father the promise of the Holy Spirit, and shed forth the Holy Spirit: seeing that He received as man, and shed forth as God. And we indeed can receive that gift according to our small measure, but assuredly we cannot shed it forth upon others; but, that this may be done, we invoke over them God, by whom this is accomplished.

Are we then able to ask whether the Holy Spirit had already proceeded from the Father when the Son was born, or had not yet proceeded, and when He was born, proceeded from both—where there is no such thing as distinct times? We can ask this just as we have been able to ask, in a case where we do find times, how the will proceeds from the human mind first, in order to seek something which, when found, may be called offspring. When that offspring has already been brought forth or born, that will is made perfect, resting in this goal, so that what had been its desire when seeking becomes its love when enjoying. This love now proceeds from both—that is, from the mind that begets and from the notion that is begotten, as if from parent and offspring. But these things are absolutely impossible to ask in this case, where nothing is begun in time so as to be perfected in a following time. Therefore, let anyone who can understand the generation of the Son from the Father without time also understand the procession of the Holy Spirit from both without time. And let anyone who can understand, in what the Son says—"As the Father has life in Himself, so has He given to the Son to have life in Himself"—not that the Father gave life to the Son who already existed without life, but that He begot Him apart from time, so that the life which the Father gave to the Son by begetting Him is co-eternal with the life of the Father who gave it—let him, I say, understand that as the Father has in Himself that the Holy Spirit should proceed from Him, so has He given to the Son that the same Holy Spirit should proceed from Him, and both are apart from time. The Holy Spirit is so said to proceed from the Father that it is understood that His proceeding also from the Son is a property derived by the Son from the Father. For if the Son has of the Father whatever He has, then certainly He has of the Father that the Holy Spirit proceeds also from Him. But let no one think of any times in this which imply a before and after, because these things are not there at all. How, then, would it not be completely absurd to call Him the Son of both? For just as generation from the Father, without any changeableness of nature, gives to the Son essence without beginning of time, so procession from both, without any changeableness of nature, gives to the Holy Spirit essence without beginning of time. While we do not say that the Holy Spirit is begotten, yet we do not therefore dare to say that He is unbegotten, lest anyone suspect in this word either two Fathers in that Trinity or two who are not from another. For the Father alone is not from another, and therefore He alone is called unbegotten—not indeed in the Scriptures, but in the usage of disputants who employ such language as they can on so great a subject. And the Son is born of the Father, and the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father principally, the Father giving the procession without any interval of time, yet in common from both Father and Son. But He would be called the Son of the Father and of the Son if—a thing repugnant to the feeling of all sound minds—both had begotten Him. Therefore the Spirit of both is not begotten of both, but proceeds from both.

47. Are we therefore able to ask whether the Holy Spirit had already proceeded from the Father when the Son was born, or had not yet proceeded; and when He was born, proceeded from both, wherein there is no such thing as distinct times: just as we have been able to ask, in a case where we do find times, that the will proceeds from the human mind first, in order that that may be sought which, when found, may be called offspring; which offspring being already brought forth or born, that will is made perfect, resting in this end, so that what had been its desire when seeking, is its love when enjoying; which love now proceeds from both, i.e. from the mind that begets, and from the notion that is begotten, as if from parent and offspring? These things it is absolutely impossible to ask in this case, where nothing is begun in time, so as to be perfected in a time following. Wherefore let him who can understand the generation of the Son from the Father without time, understand also the procession of the Holy Spirit from both without time. And let him who can understand, in that which the Son says, As the Father has life in Himself, so has He given to the Son to have life in Himself, not that the Father gave life to the Son already existing without life, but that He so begot Him apart from time, that the life which the Father gave to the Son by begetting Him is co-eternal with the life of the Father who gave it: let him, I say, understand, that as the Father has in Himself that the Holy Spirit should proceed from Him, so has He given to the Son that the same Holy Spirit should proceed from Him, and be both apart from time: and that the Holy Spirit is so said to proceed from the Father as that it be understood that His proceeding also from the Son, is a property derived by the Son from the Father. For if the Son has of the Father whatever He has, then certainly He has of the Father, that the Holy Spirit proceeds also from Him. But let no one think of any times therein which imply a sooner and a later; because these things are not there at all. How, then, would it not be most absurd to call Him the Son of both: when, just as generation from the Father, without any changeableness of nature, gives to the Son essence, without beginning of time; so procession from both, without any changeableness of nature, gives to the Holy Spirit essence without beginning of time? For while we do not say that the Holy Spirit is begotten, yet we do not therefore dare to say that He is unbegotten, lest any one suspect in this word either two Fathers in that Trinity, or two who are not from another. For the Father alone is not from another, and therefore He alone is called unbegotten, not indeed in the Scriptures, but in the usage of disputants, who employ such language as they can on so great a subject. And the Son is born of the Father; and the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father principally, the Father giving the procession without any interval of time, yet in common from both [Father and Son]. But He would be called the Son of the Father and of the Son, if — a thing abhorrent to the feeling of all sound minds — both had begotten Him. Therefore the Spirit of both is not begotten of both, but proceeds from both.

But because it is extremely difficult to distinguish generation from procession in that co-eternal, equal, incorporeal, ineffably unchangeable and indivisible Trinity, let it be enough for now to set before those who cannot go further what I said on this subject in a sermon delivered to the ears of Christian people, which I then wrote down. For when, among other things, I had taught them through testimonies of the Holy Scriptures that the Holy Spirit proceeds from both, I continue: If, then, the Holy Spirit proceeds both from the Father and from the Son, why did the Son say, 'He proceeds from the Father'? Why do you think, except that He customarily refers to the Father even that which is His own, from whom He Himself also exists? This is also like what He says: 'My doctrine is not my own, but His who sent me.' If, therefore, the doctrine here understood is His, yet He said it was not His own but belonged to Him who sent Him, how much more should we understand there that the Holy Spirit proceeds also from Himself, where He says, 'He proceeds from the Father,' without saying, 'He does not proceed from me'? From the Father, certainly, from whom the Son has His divine nature—for He is God of God—He also has this: that from Him too the Holy Spirit proceeds. And so the Holy Spirit has from the Father Himself that He should proceed from the Son also, just as He proceeds from the Father. Here also, in some way, this can be understood, as far as people like us can understand it, why the Holy Spirit is not said to be born, but rather to proceed. For if He too were called a Son, He would certainly be called the Son of both, which is completely absurd, since no one is the son of two persons except of father and mother. But far be it from us to imagine anything like this between God the Father and God the Son. For not even a human son proceeds at the same time from both father and mother; when he proceeds from the father into the mother, he does not at that time proceed from the mother; and when he proceeds from the mother into this present light, he does not at that time proceed from the father. But the Holy Spirit does not proceed from the Father into the Son, and from the Son proceed to sanctify the creature, but proceeds at once from both. Yet the Father has given this to the Son, that He should proceed from Him just as He proceeds from the Father Himself. For we cannot say that the Holy Spirit is not life, while the Father is life and the Son is life. And so, just as the Father, who has life in Himself, has also given to the Son to have life in Himself, so He has also given to Him that life should proceed from Him, just as it also proceeds from Himself. I have transferred this from that sermon into this book, but I was speaking to believers, not to unbelievers.

48. But because it is most difficult to distinguish generation from procession in that co-eternal, and equal, and incorporeal, and ineffably unchangeable and indivisible Trinity, let it suffice meanwhile to put before those who are not able to be drawn on further, what we said upon this subject in a sermon to be delivered in the ears of Christian people, and after saying wrote it down. For when, among other things, I had taught them by testimonies of the Holy Scriptures that the Holy Spirit proceeds from both, I continue: If, then, the Holy Spirit proceeds both from the Father and from the Son, why did the Son say, 'He proceeds from the Father.' Why, think you, except as He is wont to refer to Him, that also which is His own, from whom also He Himself is? Whence also is that which He says, 'My doctrine is not my own, but His that sent me?' If, therefore, it is His doctrine that is here understood, which yet He said was not His own, but His that sent Him, how much more is it there to be understood that the Holy Spirit proceeds also from Himself, where He so says, He proceeds from the Father, as not to say, He proceeds not from me? From Him, certainly, from whom the Son had his Divine nature, for He is God of God, He has also, that from Him too proceeds the Holy Spirit; and hence the Holy Spirit has from the Father Himself, that He should proceed from the Son also, as He proceeds from the Father. Here, too, in some way may this also be understood, so far as it can be understood by such as we are, why the Holy Spirit is not said to be born, but rather to proceed; since if He, too, was called a Son, He would certainly be called the Son of both, which is most absurd, since no one is son of two, save of father and mother. But far be it from us to surmise any such thing as this between God the Father and God the Son. Because not even the son of men proceeds at the same time from both father and mother; but when he proceeds from the father into the mother, he does not at that time proceed from the mother; and when he proceeds from the mother into this present light, he does not at that time proceed from the father. But the Holy Spirit does not proceed from the Father into the Son, and from the Son proceed to sanctify the creature, but proceeds at once from both; although the Father has given this to the Son, that He should proceed, as from Himself, so also from Him. For we cannot say that the Holy Spirit is not life, while the Father is life, and the Son is life: and hence as the Father, while He has life in Himself, has given also to the Son to have life in Himself; so has He given also to Him that life should proceed from Him, as it also proceeds from Himself. I have transferred this from that sermon into this book, but I was speaking to believers, not to unbelievers.

But if they are not capable of looking at this image and seeing how true these things are that exist in their mind—things that are not so three as to be three persons, but all three belong to a person who is one—why do they not believe what they find in the sacred books about that highest Trinity which is God, rather than demanding the clearest reasoning, which cannot be grasped by the human mind, dull and weak as it is? And certainly, once they have firmly believed the Holy Scriptures as most trustworthy witnesses, they should strive—by praying, seeking, and living well—to understand, that is, so that what is held by faith may be seen by the mind, to the extent it can be seen. Who would forbid this? In fact, who would not rather urge them toward it? But if they think they should deny these things exist because they cannot discern them with their blind minds, then those who are blind from birth should also deny that the sun exists. The light, then, shines in darkness; but if the darkness does not comprehend it, let them first be enlightened by the gift of God so they may become believers, and let them begin to be light compared to unbelievers. Once this foundation is laid, let them be built up to see what they believe, so that at some point they may be able to see. For some things are believed in such a way that they cannot be seen at all. Christ is not going to be seen a second time on the cross; but unless what has been done and seen is believed—that it is not now to be hoped for as something still to come and be seen—there is no coming to Christ as he is to be seen without end. But regarding the discerning in some way by the understanding of that highest, ineffable, incorporeal, and unchangeable nature, the sight of the human mind can nowhere better exercise itself—provided that the rule of faith governs it—than in what a person has in his own nature that is superior to the other animals and also to the other parts of his own soul, which is the mind itself. To the mind has been assigned a certain sight of invisible things, and to it, as though presiding honorably in a higher and inner place, the bodily senses also bring reports of all things so they may be judged. There is nothing higher than the mind except what it must be subject to and governed by, which is God.

49. But if they are not competent to gaze upon this image, and to see how true these things are which are in their mind, and yet which are not so three as to be three persons, but all three belong to a man who is one person; why do they not believe what they find in the sacred books respecting that highest Trinity which is God, rather than insist on the clearest reason being rendered them, which cannot be comprehended by the human mind, dull and infirm as it is? And to be sure, when they have steadfastly believed the Holy Scriptures as most true witnesses, let them strive, by praying and seeking and living well, that they may understand, i.e. that so far as it can be seen, that may be seen by the mind which is held fast by faith. Who would forbid this? Nay, who would not rather exhort them to it? But if they think they ought to deny that these things are, because they, with their blind minds, cannot discern them, they, too, who are blind from their birth, ought to deny that there is a sun. The light then shines in darkness; but if the darkness comprehend it not, let them first be illuminated by the gift of God, that they may be believers, and let them begin to be light in comparison with the unbelievers; and when this foundation is first laid, let them be built up to see what they believe, that at some time they may be able to see. For some things are so believed, that they cannot be seen at all. For Christ is not to be seen a second time on the cross; but unless this be believed which has been so done and seen, that it is not now to be hoped for as about to be and to be seen, there is no coming to Christ, such as without end He is to be seen. But as far as relates to the discerning in some way by the understanding that highest, ineffable, incorporeal, and unchangeable nature the sight of the human mind can nowhere better exercise itself, so only that the rule of faith govern it, than in that which man himself has in his own nature better than the other animals, better also than the other parts of his own soul, which is the mind itself, to which has been assigned a certain sight of things invisible, and to which, as though honorably presiding in a higher and inner place, the bodily senses also bring word of all things, that they may be judged, and than which there is no higher, to which it is to be subject, and by which it is to be governed, except God.

Among all the many things I have said here, there is nothing I would dare claim is worthy of the ineffableness of that highest Trinity. Rather, I must confess that the wonderful knowledge of Him is too great for me, and I cannot attain to it. O my soul, where do you sense yourself to be? Where do you lie? Where do you stand? This will be so until all your weaknesses are healed by Him who has forgiven all your sins. You surely perceive that you are in the inn where that Samaritan brought the man he found half-dead, wounded many times by thieves. Yet you have seen many true things, not with those eyes that see colored objects, but with the eyes for which the one prayed who said, "Let my eyes behold the things that are equal." You have certainly seen many true things and have distinguished them from that light by the light through which you saw them. Lift up your eyes to that light itself and fix them on it if you can. For in this way you will see how the birth of the Word of God differs from the procession of the Gift of God—which is why the only-begotten Son did not say that the Holy Spirit is begotten of the Father, otherwise He would be His brother, but rather that He proceeds from Him. Therefore, since the Spirit of both is a kind of consubstantial communion of Father and Son, He is not called—far be it from us to say so—the Son of both. But you cannot fix your gaze there so as to discern this clearly and lucidly; I know you cannot. I speak the truth to myself; I know what I cannot do. Yet that light itself shows you three things in yourself, in which you may recognize an image of the highest Trinity itself, which you cannot yet contemplate with steady eye. That light shows you that there is in you a true word when it is born from your knowledge—that is, when we say what we know, even though we neither speak nor think of any articulate word that has meaning in any language of any nation, but our thought is formed by what we know. And in the mind's eye of the thinker there is an image resembling that thought which the memory contained, with will or love as a third thing combining these two as parent and offspring. Whoever can, sees and discerns that this will does indeed proceed from thought (for no one wills something of which he is completely ignorant regarding what it is or what sort of thing it is), yet it is not an image of the thought. And so there is suggested in this intelligible thing a kind of difference between birth and procession, since to behold by thought is not the same as to desire, or even to enjoy by will. You too have been able to discern this, although you have not been able, nor are you now able, to unfold with adequate speech what you have barely seen amidst the clouds of bodily likenesses that constantly flit back and forth before human thoughts. But that light which is not yourself also shows you that these incorporeal likenesses of bodies are different from the truth, which we contemplate with the understanding by rejecting them. That light has shown these and other similarly certain things to your inner eyes. What reason is there, then, why you cannot see that light itself with steady eye, except certainly weakness? And what has produced this in you, except sin? Who then is it that heals all your weaknesses, unless it is He who forgives all your sins? And therefore I will now at last finish this book with a prayer rather than with an argument.

50. But among these many things which I have now said, and of which there is nothing that I dare to profess myself to have said worthy of the ineffableness of that highest Trinity, but rather to confess that the wonderful knowledge of Him is too great for me, and that I cannot attain to it: O you, my soul, where do you feel yourself to be? Where do you lie? Where do you stand? Until all your infirmities be healed by Him who has forgiven all your iniquities. You perceive yourself assuredly to be in that inn whither that Samaritan brought him whom he found with many wounds inflicted by thieves, half-dead. And yet you have seen many things that are true, not by those eyes by which colored objects are seen, but by those for which he prayed who said, Let my eyes behold the things that are equal. Certainly, then, you have seen many things that are true, and hast distinguished them from that light by the light of which you have seen them. Lift up your eyes to the light itself, and fix them upon it if you can. For so you will see how the birth of the Word of God differs from the procession of the Gift of God, on account of which the only-begotten Son did not say that the Holy Spirit is begotten of the Father, otherwise He would be His brother, but that He proceeds from Him. Whence, since the Spirit of both is a kind of consubstantial communion of Father and Son, He is not called, far be it from us to say so, the Son of both. But you can not fix your sight there, so as to discern this lucidly and clearly; I know you can not. I say the truth, I say to myself, I know what I cannot do; yet that light itself shows to you these three things in yourself, wherein you may recognize an image of the highest Trinity itself, which you can not yet contemplate with steady eye. Itself shows to you that there is in you a true word, when it is born of your knowledge, i.e. when we say what we know: although we neither utter nor think of any articulate word that is significant in any tongue of any nation, but our thought is formed by that which we know; and there is in the mind's eye of the thinker an image resembling that thought which the memory contained, will or love as a third combining these two as parent and offspring. And he who can, sees and discerns that this will proceeds indeed from thought (for no one wills that of which he is absolutely ignorant what or of what sort it is), yet is not an image of the thought: and so that there is insinuated in this intelligible thing a sort of difference between birth and procession, since to behold by thought is not the same as to desire, or even to enjoy will. You, too, hast been able [to discern this], although you have not been, neither art, able to unfold with adequate speech what, amidst the clouds of bodily likenesses, which cease not to flit up and down before human thoughts, you have scarcely seen. But that light which is not yourself shows you this too, that these incorporeal likenesses of bodies are different from the truth, which, by rejecting them, we contemplate with the understanding. These, and other things similarly certain, that light has shown to your inner eyes. What reason, then, is there why you can not see that light itself with steady eye, except certainly infirmity? And what has produced this in you, except iniquity? Who, then, is it that heals all your infirmities, unless it be He that forgives all your iniquities? And therefore I will now at length finish this book by a prayer better than by an argument.

O Lord our God, we believe in You, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. For the Truth would not say, "Go, baptize all nations in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit," unless You were a Trinity. Nor would You, O Lord God, command us to be baptized in the name of someone who is not the Lord God. Nor would the divine voice have said, "Hear, O Israel, the Lord your God is one God," unless You were both a Trinity and one Lord God. And if You, O God, were the Father and were also the Son, Your Word Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit Your gift, we would not read in the book of truth, "God sent His Son"; nor would You, O Only-begotten, say of the Holy Spirit, "Whom the Father will send in my name," and "Whom I will send to you from the Father." Guided by this rule of faith, as much as I have been able, as much as You have enabled me to be able, I have sought You, and have desired to see with my understanding what I believed; and I have argued and worked hard. O Lord my God, my one hope, listen to me, so that I may not grow weary and stop seeking You, but may always earnestly seek Your face. Give me strength to seek, since You have made me find You and have given the hope of finding You more and more. My strength and my weakness are before Your sight: preserve the one and heal the other. My knowledge and my ignorance are before Your sight; where You have opened to me, receive me as I enter; where You have closed, open to me as I knock. May I remember You, understand You, love You. Increase these things in me until You renew me completely. I know it is written, "In the multitude of speech, you shall not escape sin." But if only I might speak only in preaching Your word and in praising You! Not only would I avoid sin this way, but I would earn good merit, however much I spoke. For a man blessed by You would not command a sin upon his own true son in the faith, to whom he wrote, "Preach the word: be urgent in season and out of season." Are we to say that he spoke too much, when he was not silent about Your word, O Lord, not only in season but out of season? But it was not too much, because it was only what was necessary. Set me free, O God, from that multitude of speech which I suffer inwardly in my soul, wretched as it is in Your sight, and fleeing for refuge to Your mercy; for I am not silent in thoughts even when silent in words. And if I thought of nothing except what pleased You, I certainly would not ask You to set me free from such multitude of speech. But my thoughts are many, such as You know, thoughts of man, since they are vain. Grant me not to consent to them; and if they ever delight me, nevertheless to condemn them and not to dwell in them as though I were asleep. Nor let them so prevail in me that anything in my actions should come from them; but at least let my opinions, let my conscience, be safe from them under Your protection. When the wise man spoke of You in his book, which is now called by the special name of Ecclesiasticus, he said, "We speak much and yet come short; and in sum of words, He is all." When we shall have come to You, these very many things that we speak and yet come short will cease; and You, as One, will remain all in all. And we shall say one thing without end, in praising You in One, ourselves also made one in You. O Lord the one God, God the Trinity, whatever I have said in these books that is of Yours, may those who are Yours acknowledge it; if anything is of my own, may it be pardoned both by You and by those who are Yours. Amen.

51. O Lord our God, we believe in You, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. For the Truth would not say, Go, baptize all nations in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, unless You were a Trinity. Nor would you, O Lord God, bid us to be baptized in the name of Him who is not the Lord God. Nor would the divine voice have said, Hear, O Israel, the Lord your God is one God, unless You were so a Trinity as to be one Lord God. And if You, O God, were Yourself the Father, and were Yourself the Son, Your Word Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit your gift, we should not read in the book of truth, God sent His Son; nor would You, O Only-begotten, say of the Holy Spirit, Whom the Father will send in my name; and, Whom I will send to you from the Father. Directing my purpose by this rule of faith, so far as I have been able, so far as You have made me to be able, I have sought You, and have desired to see with my understanding what I believed; and I have argued and labored much. O Lord my God, my one hope, hearken to me, lest through weariness I be unwilling to seek You, but that I may always ardently seek Your face. Do Thou give strength to seek, who has made me find You, and has given the hope of finding You more and more. My strength and my infirmity are in Your sight: preserve the one, and heal the other. My knowledge and my ignorance are in Your sight; where You have opened to me, receive me as I enter; where You have closed, open to me as I knock. May I remember You, understand You, love You. Increase these things in me, until You renew me wholly. I know it is written, In the multitude of speech, you shall not escape sin. But O that I might speak only in preaching Your word, and in praising You! Not only should I so flee from sin, but I should earn good desert, however much I so spoke. For a man blessed of You would not enjoin a sin upon his own true son in the faith, to whom he wrote, Preach the word: be instant in season, out of season. Are we to say that he has not spoken much, who was not silent about Your word, O Lord, not only in season, but out of season? But therefore it was not much, because it was only what was necessary. Set me free, O God, from that multitude of speech which I suffer inwardly in my soul, wretched as it is in Your sight, and flying for refuge to Your mercy; for I am not silent in thoughts, even when silent in words. And if, indeed, I thought of nothing save what pleased You, certainly I would not ask You to set me free from such multitude of speech. But many are my thoughts, such as You know, thoughts of man, since they are vain. Grant to me not to consent to them; and if ever they delight me, nevertheless to condemn them, and not to dwell in them, as though I slumbered. Nor let them so prevail in me, as that anything in my acts should proceed from them; but at least let my opinions, let my conscience, be safe from them, under Your protection. When the wise man spoke of You in his book, which is now called by the special name of Ecclesiasticus, We speak, he said, much, and yet come short; and in sum of words, He is all. When, therefore, we shall have come to You, these very many things that we speak, and yet come short, will cease; and You, as One, will remain all in all. And we shall say one thing without end, in praising You in One, ourselves also made one in You. O Lord the one God, God the Trinity, whatever I have said in these books that is of Yours, may they acknowledge who are Yours; if anything of my own, may it be pardoned both by You and by those who are Yours. Amen.

We must now discuss wisdom—not the wisdom of God, which without doubt is God, since His only-begotten Son is called the wisdom of God—but we will speak of human wisdom, yet true wisdom that is according to God and is His true and chief worship, which is called in Greek by one term, theosebeia. And this term, as we have already observed, when our own countrymen wished to translate it by a single term, was rendered as "piety," whereas "piety" more commonly means what the Greeks call eusebeia. But because theosebeia cannot be translated perfectly by any one word, it is better translated by two words, so as to render it as "the worship of God." That this is human wisdom, as we have already established in the twelfth book of this work, is shown by the authority of Holy Scripture in the book of God's servant Job, where we read that the Wisdom of God said to man, "Behold, piety, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil is knowledge"—or, as some have translated the Greek word epistemen, "learning," which certainly takes its name from learning, which is why it may also be called knowledge. For everything is learned so that it may be known. Although the same word is indeed used in a different sense, where someone suffers evils for his sins so that he may be corrected. This is the source of that passage in the Epistle to the Hebrews, "For what son is he to whom the father gives not discipline?" And this is even more apparent in the same epistle: "Now no chastening for the present seems to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby." Therefore God Himself is the highest wisdom, but the worship of God is human wisdom, of which we now speak. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. It is with respect to this wisdom, therefore, which is the worship of God, that Holy Scripture says, "The multitude of the wise is the welfare of the world."

1. We must now discourse concerning wisdom; not the wisdom of God, which without doubt is God, for His only-begotten Son is called the wisdom of God; but we will speak of the wisdom of man, yet of true wisdom, which is according to God, and is His true and chief worship, which is called in Greek by one term, θεοσέβεια. And this term, as we have already observed, when our own countrymen themselves also wished to interpret it by a single term, was by them rendered piety, whereas piety means more commonly what the Greeks call εὐσέβεια. But because θεοσέβεια cannot be translated perfectly by any one word, it is better translated by two, so as to render it rather by the worship of God. That this is the wisdom of man, as we have already laid down in the twelfth book of this work, is shown by the authority of Holy Scripture, in the book of God's servant Job, where we read that the Wisdom of God said to man, Behold piety, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil is knowledge; or, as some have translated the Greek word ἐπιστήμην, learning, which certainly takes its name from learning, whence also it may be called knowledge. For everything is learned in order that it may be known. Although the same word, indeed, is employed in a different sense, where any one suffers evils for his sins, that he may be corrected. Whence is that in the Epistle to the Hebrews, For what son is he to whom the father gives not discipline? And this is still more apparent in the same epistle: Now no chastening for the present seems to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby. Therefore God Himself is the chiefest wisdom; but the worship of God is the wisdom of man, of which we now speak. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. It is in respect to this wisdom, therefore, which is the worship of God, that Holy Scripture says, The multitude of the wise is the welfare of the world.

But if discussing wisdom belongs to wise men, what should we do? Should we dare to claim we are wise, or would that be simply impudent of us to discuss it? Should we not be warned by the example of Pythagoras, who did not dare to claim he was a wise man, but answered that he was a philosopher—that is, a lover of wisdom? From this arose the name that became so popular from then on that no matter how great someone's learning was, whether in his own opinion or that of others, in matters pertaining to wisdom, he was still called nothing more than a philosopher. Or was the reason that no one, even among such people, dared to claim to be a wise man because they thought a wise man was one without sin? But our Scriptures do not say this, for they say, "Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you." For clearly, whoever thinks a man ought to be rebuked judges him to have sin. However, for my part, I do not dare to claim I am a wise man even in this sense. It is enough for me to claim what they themselves cannot deny: that discussing wisdom also belongs to the philosopher—that is, the lover of wisdom. For those who have claimed to be lovers of wisdom rather than wise men have not stopped discussing it.

2. But if to dispute of wisdom belongs to wise men, what shall we do? Shall we dare indeed to profess wisdom, lest it should be mere impudence for ourselves to dispute about it? Shall we not be alarmed by the example of Pythagoras?– who dared not profess to be a wise man, but answered that he was a philosopher, i.e., a lover of wisdom; whence arose the name, that became thenceforth so much the popular name, that no matter how great the learning wherein any one excelled, either in his own opinion or that of others, in things pertaining to wisdom, he was still called nothing more than philosopher. Or was it for this reason that no one, even of such as these, dared to profess himself a wise man — because they imagined that a wise man was one without sin? But our Scriptures do not say this, which say, Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you. For doubtless he who thinks a man ought to be rebuked, judges him to have sin. However, for my part, I dare not profess myself a wise man even in this sense; it is enough for me to assume, what they themselves cannot deny, that to dispute of wisdom belongs also to the philosopher, i.e., the lover of wisdom. For they have not given over so disputing who have professed to be lovers of wisdom rather than wise men.

When discussing wisdom, philosophers have defined it as the knowledge of both divine and human things. In my previous book, I acknowledged that understanding both areas—divine and human—can be called either knowledge or wisdom. However, based on the apostle's distinction where he says "to one is given the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge," we need to divide this definition so that knowledge of divine things is called wisdom, while knowledge of human things properly receives the name knowledge. I dealt with the latter in book thirteen, though not by including everything humans can know about human affairs—since much of that is empty vanity and harmful curiosity—but only those things that generate, nourish, defend, and strengthen the wholesome faith that leads to true blessedness. Many of the faithful are not strong in this knowledge, even though they are very strong in faith itself. It is one thing simply to know what a person must believe to attain the blessed life, which must be eternal, but another thing to know how this belief helps the devout and can be defended against the ungodly—which the apostle seems to call specifically by the name knowledge. When I discussed this knowledge before, my main purpose was to commend faith, first by briefly distinguishing eternal things from temporal ones, then by discussing temporal things. While postponing discussion of eternal things to this present book, I also showed that faith regarding eternal things is itself temporal, dwelling in the hearts of believers during time, yet necessary for attaining the eternal things themselves. I also argued that faith concerning the temporal things that the Eternal One did and suffered for us as a man—the manhood he took on in time and carried to eternal things—is also beneficial for obtaining eternal things. Furthermore, the virtues by which people live prudently, courageously, moderately, and justly in this temporal and mortal life are not true virtues unless they are directed toward that same faith, which though temporal, nevertheless leads to eternal things.

3. In disputing, then, about wisdom, they have defined it thus: Wisdom is the knowledge of things human and divine. And hence, in the last book, I have not withheld the admission, that the cognizance of both subjects, whether divine or human, may be called both knowledge and wisdom. But according to the distinction made in the apostle's words, To one is given the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge, this definition is to be divided, so that the knowledge of things divine shall be called wisdom, and that of things human appropriate to itself the name of knowledge; and of the latter I have treated in the thirteenth book, not indeed so as to attribute to this knowledge everything whatever that can be known by man about things human, wherein there is exceeding much of empty vanity and mischievous curiosity, but only those things by which that most wholesome faith, which leads to true blessedness, is begotten, nourished, defended, strengthened; and in this knowledge most of the faithful are not strong, however exceeding strong in the faith itself. For it is one thing to know only what man ought to believe in order to attain to a blessed life, which must needs be an eternal one; but another to know in what way this belief itself may both help the pious, and be defended against the impious, which last the apostle seems to call by the special name of knowledge. And when I was speaking of this knowledge before, my special business was to commend faith, first briefly distinguishing things eternal from things temporal, and there discoursing of things temporal; but while deferring things eternal to the present book, I showed also that faith respecting things eternal is itself a thing temporal, and dwells in time in the hearts of believers, and yet is necessary in order to attain the things eternal themselves. I argued also, that faith respecting the things temporal which He that is eternal did and suffered for us as man, which manhood He bare in time and carried on to things eternal, is profitable also for the obtaining of things eternal; and that the virtues themselves, whereby in this temporal and mortal life men live prudently, bravely, temperately, and justly, are not true virtues, unless they are referred to that same faith, temporal though it is, which leads on nevertheless to things eternal.

Since Scripture says, "While we are in the body, we are absent from the Lord; for we walk by faith, not by sight," and the just person lives by faith, even when living according to the inner person and aiming at truth and reaching toward eternal things through this temporal faith, we have not yet reached the kind of trinity that should be called an image of God in the holding, contemplating, and loving of this temporal faith. Otherwise, what ought to be constituted in eternal things would seem to be constituted in temporal things. When the human mind sees its own faith—by which it believes what it does not see—it does not see something eternal. For faith will not always exist; it will certainly no longer exist when this pilgrimage, during which we are absent from God and must walk by faith, has ended and sight has succeeded it, enabling us to see face to face. Just as now we believe though we do not see, and will thereby deserve to see and rejoice at having been brought through faith to sight, faith will then no longer be believing what is not seen but sight by which what is believed is seen. At that time, even if we remember this past mortal life and recall that we once believed what we did not see, that faith will be counted among past and finished things, not among present and continuing things. Therefore, the trinity that now consists in remembering, contemplating, and loving this same faith while it is present and continuing will then be found to be finished and past, not still enduring. From this we can conclude that if that trinity is indeed an image of God, then this image itself would have to be counted not among things that exist always, but among transient things.

4. Wherefore since, as it is written, While we are in the body, we are absent from the Lord; for we walk by faith, not by sight; undoubtedly, so long as the just man lives by faith, howsoever he lives according to the inner man, although he aims at truth and reaches on to things eternal by this same temporal faith, nevertheless in the holding, contemplating, and loving this temporal faith, we have not yet reached such a trinity as is to be called an image of God; lest that should seem to be constituted in things temporal which ought to be so in things eternal. For when the human mind sees its own faith, whereby it believes what it does not see, it does not see a thing eternal. For that will not always exist, which certainly will not then exist, when this pilgrimage, whereby we are absent from God, in such way that we must needs walk by faith, shall be ended, and that sight shall have succeeded it whereby we shall see face to face; just as now, because we believe although we do not see, we shall deserve to see, and shall rejoice at having been brought through faith to sight. For then it will be no longer faith, by which that is believed which is not seen; but sight, by which that is seen which is believed. And then, therefore, although we remember this past mortal life, and call to mind by recollection that we once believed what we did not see, yet that faith will be reckoned among things past and done with, not among things present and always continuing. And hence also that trinity which now consists in the remembering, contemplating, and loving this same faith while present and continuing, will then be found to be done with and past, and not still enduring. And hence it is to be gathered, that if that trinity is indeed an image of God, then this image itself would have to be reckoned, not among things that exist always, but among things transient.

But we must not think that while the soul's nature is immortal and never ceases to exist from the very first beginning of its creation, the best thing the soul possesses would not endure forever along with its immortality. Yet what is better in the soul's created nature than the fact that it is made after the image of its Creator? We must therefore identify what can fittingly be called the image of God, not in the holding, contemplating, and loving of that faith which will not exist forever, but in that which will exist forever.

But far be it from us to think, that while the nature of the soul is immortal, and from the first beginning of its creation thenceforth never ceases to be, yet that that which is the best thing it has should not endure for ever with its own immortality. Yet what is there in its nature as created, better than that it is made after the image of its Creator? We must find then what may be fittingly called the image of God, not in the holding, contemplating, and loving that faith which will not exist always, but in that which will exist always.

Should we examine this matter more carefully and deeply to see if this is really the case? Someone might argue that this trinity does not perish even when faith itself passes away. Just as now we hold it in memory, discern it with thought, and love it with will, so also in the future when we both hold in memory and recall that we once had it, and unite these two through a third element (namely will), the same trinity will still remain. After all, if faith left no trace in us as it passed, we would certainly have nothing of it even in our memory to return to when recalling it as something past, and we would have nothing to couple by a third element (that is, purpose) joining both the content that was in our memory though we were not thinking about it, and what is formed from it by conception. But anyone who argues this way fails to recognize that when we hold, see, and love our present faith in ourselves, we are dealing with a different trinity existing now from the trinity that will exist when we contemplate through recollection not faith itself, but rather the imagined trace of it stored in memory, and unite by will as a third element these two things: what was in the memory of the one who retains it, and what is impressed from it upon the vision of the mind of the one who recollects. To understand this, let us take an example from bodily things, which we discussed sufficiently in the eleventh book. As we ascend from lower to higher things, or pass inward from outer to inner things, we first find a trinity in the bodily object that is seen, in the vision of the one who sees (which is formed by the object when he sees it), and in the purpose of the will which combines both. Let us consider a trinity like this: when the faith now in ourselves is established in our memory just as that bodily object we mentioned was in a place, from this faith is formed the conception in recollection, just as from that bodily object was formed the vision of the beholder. To complete the trinity, will must be counted as a third element, which connects and combines the faith established in memory and a kind of image of that faith impressed upon the vision of recollection, just as in that trinity of bodily vision, the form of the bodily object that is seen and the corresponding form produced in the vision of the beholder are combined by the purpose of the will. Now suppose that this bodily object which was seen dissolved and perished, and nothing at all of it remained anywhere for the gaze to return to. Should we then say that because the image of this now past and finished bodily object remains in memory, from which to form the conception in recollecting and to have the two united by will as a third element, therefore it is the same trinity as that former one when the appearance of the bodily object positioned in place was seen? Certainly not, but rather an altogether different one. Not to mention that the former was from without while this is from within, the former was certainly produced by the appearance of a present bodily object, while the latter is produced by the image of that now past object. So too in the case we are now treating, to illustrate which we thought it good to present this example, the faith which even now exists in our mind, just as that bodily object was in place, while held, looked at, and loved, produces a kind of trinity. But that trinity will exist no more when this faith in the mind, like that bodily object in place, no longer exists. The one that will then exist, when we remember it to have been in us but not to be present now, will surely be a different one. For the trinity that now exists is produced by the thing itself, actually present and attached to the mind of one who believes, but the one that will then exist will be produced by the imagination of a past thing left in the memory of one who recollects.

5. Shall we then scrutinize somewhat more carefully and deeply whether the case is really thus? For it may be said that this trinity does not perish even when faith itself shall have passed away; because, as now we both hold it by memory, and discern it by thought, and love it by will; so then also, when we shall both hold in memory, and shall recollect, that we once had it, and shall unite these two by the third, namely will, the same trinity will still continue. Since, if it have left in its passage as it were no trace in us, doubtless we shall not have ought of it even in our memory, whereto to recur when recollecting it as past, and by the third, viz. purpose, coupling both these, to wit, what was in our memory though we were not thinking about it, and what is formed thence by conception. But he who speaks thus, does not perceive, that when we hold, see, and love in ourselves our present faith, we are concerned with a different trinity as now existing, from that trinity which will exist, when we shall contemplate by recollection, not the faith itself, but as it were the imagined trace of it laid up in the memory, and shall unite by the will, as by a third, these two things, viz. that which was in the memory of him who retains, and that which is impressed thence upon the vision of the mind of him who recollects. And that we may understand this, let us take an example from things corporeal, of which we have sufficiently spoken in the eleventh book. For as we ascend from lower to higher things, or pass inward from outer to inner things, we first find a trinity in the bodily object which is seen, and in the vision of the seer, which, when he sees it, is informed thereby, and in the purpose of the will which combines both. Let us assume a trinity like this, when the faith which is now in ourselves is so established in our memory as the bodily object we spoke of was in place, from which faith is formed the conception in recollection, as from that bodily object was formed the vision of the beholder; and to these two, to complete the trinity, will is to be reckoned as a third, which connects and combines the faith established in the memory, and a sort of effigy of that faith impressed upon the vision of recollection; just as in that trinity of corporeal vision, the form of the bodily object that is seen, and the corresponding form wrought in the vision of the beholder, are combined by the purpose of the will. Suppose, then, that this bodily object which was beheld was dissolved and had perished, and that nothing at all of it remained anywhere, to the vision of which the gaze might have recourse; are we then to say, that because the image of the bodily object thus now past and done with remains in the memory, whence to form the conception in recollecting, and to have the two united by will as a third, therefore it is the same trinity as that former one, when the appearance of the bodily object posited in place was seen? Certainly not, but altogether a different one: for, not to say that that was from without, while this is from within; the former certainly was produced by the appearance of a present bodily object, the latter by the image of that object now past. So, too, in the case of which we are now treating, to illustrate which we have thought good to adduce this example, the faith which is even now in our mind, as that bodily object was in place, while held, looked at, loved, produces a sort of trinity; but that trinity will exist no more, when this faith in the mind, like that bodily object in place, shall no longer exist. But that which will then exist, when we shall remember it to have been, but not now to be, in us, will doubtless be a different one. For that which now is, is wrought by the thing itself, actually present and attached to the mind of one who believes; but that which shall then be, will be wrought by the imagination of a past thing left in the memory of one who recollects.

Therefore, this trinity is not an image of God if it does not exist now, nor is that other trinity an image of God if it will not exist then. Instead, we must find in the human soul—that is, the rational or intellectual soul—that image of the Creator which is immortally implanted in its immortality. For just as the soul's immortality is spoken of with qualification (since the soul also has its own kind of death when it lacks the blessed life, which should be called the soul's true life; yet it is called immortal because it never stops living with some kind of life, even when it is most miserable), so too, although reason or intellect is sometimes dormant in the soul, sometimes appears small, and sometimes great, the human soul is never anything but rational or intellectual. Therefore, if the soul is made after the image of God in this respect—that it is able to use reason and intellect to understand and behold God—then from the moment this marvelous and great nature began to exist, this image always is, whether it has become so worn out as to be almost nothing at all, or whether it is obscure and defaced, or bright and beautiful. Furthermore, pitying the defaced condition of its dignity, divine Scripture tells us that although man walks in an image, yet he troubles himself in vain; he heaps up riches and cannot tell who will gather them. Scripture would not attribute vanity to the image of God unless it recognized that the image had been defaced. Yet it clearly shows that such defacing does not extend to removing its character as an image, by saying, "Although man walks in an image." Therefore this sentence can be truly stated in both ways: just as it is said, "Although man walks in an image, yet he troubles himself in vain," so it may be said, "Although man troubles himself in vain, yet he walks in an image." For although the soul's nature is great, it can be corrupted because it is not the highest; and although it can be corrupted because it is not the highest, yet because it is capable of and can participate in the highest nature, it is a great nature. Let us therefore seek in this image of God a certain trinity of a special kind, with the help of Him who Himself made us after His own image. For we cannot healthfully investigate this subject or reach any conclusion according to the wisdom that comes from Him in any other way. But if the reader either remembers and recalls what we have said about the human soul or mind in earlier books, especially in the tenth, or will carefully reread the passages where it is contained, he will not require any longer discussion here about investigating so great a matter.

6. Therefore neither is that trinity an image of God, which is not now, nor is that other an image of God, which then will not be; but we must find in the soul of man, i.e., the rational or intellectual soul, that image of the Creator which is immortally implanted in its immortality. For as the immortality itself of the soul is spoken with a qualification; since the soul too has its proper death, when it lacks a blessed life, which is to be called the true life of the soul; but it is therefore called immortal, because it never ceases to live with some life or other, even when it is most miserable — so, although reason or intellect is at one time torpid in it, at another appears small, and at another great, yet the human soul is never anything save rational or intellectual; and hence, if it is made after the image of God in respect to this, that it is able to use reason and intellect in order to understand and behold God, then from the moment when that nature so marvellous and so great began to be, whether this image be so worn out as to be almost none at all, or whether it be obscure and defaced, or bright and beautiful, certainly it always is. Further, too, pitying the defaced condition of its dignity, divine Scripture tells us, that although man walks in an image, yet he disquiets himself in vain; he heaps up riches, and cannot tell who shall gather them. It would not therefore attribute vanity to the image of God, unless it perceived it to have been defaced. Yet it sufficiently shows that such defacing does not extend to the taking away its being an image, by saying, Although man walks in an image. Wherefore in both ways that sentence can be truly enunciated; in that, as it is said, Although man walks in an image, yet he disquiets himself in vain, so it may be said, Although man disquiets himself in vain, yet he walks in an image. For although the nature of the soul is great, yet it can be corrupted, because it is not the highest; and although it can be corrupted, because it is not the highest, yet because it is capable and can be partaker of the highest nature, it is a great nature. Let us seek, then, in this image of God a certain trinity of a special kind, with the aid of Him who Himself made us after His own image. For no otherwise can we healthfully investigate this subject, or arrive at any result according to the wisdom which is from Him. But if the reader will either hold in remembrance and recollect what we have said of the human soul or mind in former books, and especially in the tenth, or will carefully re-peruse it in the passages wherein it is contained, he will not require here any more lengthy discourse respecting the inquiry into so great a thing.

We said, then, among other things in the tenth book, that the human mind knows itself. For the mind knows nothing as well as what is close to it, and nothing is closer to the mind than itself. We also brought forward other proofs, as many as seemed sufficient, by which this could be most certainly demonstrated.

7. We said, then, among other things in the tenth book, that the mind of man knows itself. For the mind knows nothing so much as that which is close to itself; and nothing is more close to the mind than itself. We adduced also other evidences, as much as seemed sufficient, whereby this might be most certainly proved.

What, then, should we say about the mind of an infant, which is still so small and buried in such deep ignorance of things that the mind of any adult who knows anything shrinks from its darkness? Should we believe that the infant's mind also knows itself, but that because it is so focused on the things it has begun to perceive through the bodily senses—with greater delight because they are new—it is indeed unable to be ignorant of itself, yet also unable to think about itself? Furthermore, how intently it is focused on sensible things outside itself can be guessed from this single fact: it is so eager for sensible light that if someone carelessly or ignorantly places a light at night near where an infant is lying, on the side toward which the child's eyes can turn but its neck cannot, the child's gaze will be so fixed in that direction that we have known some children to become cross-eyed this way, because their eyes retained the form that habit somehow impressed on them while they were still tender and soft. Likewise, with the other bodily senses, the souls of infants, as far as their age allows, narrow themselves and focus on these senses to such a degree that they either strongly reject or strongly desire only what offends or attracts through the flesh, but they do not think about their own inner self and cannot be made to do so by instruction, because they do not yet know the signs that convey instruction—of which words are the primary ones—and of these, as of other things, they are completely ignorant. And that it is one thing not to know oneself and another thing not to think about oneself, we have already shown in the same book.

What, then, is to be said of the mind of an infant, which is still so small, and buried in such profound ignorance of things, that the mind of a man which knows anything shrinks from the darkness of it? Is that too to be believed to know itself; but that, as being too intent upon those things which it has begun to perceive through the bodily senses, with the greater delight in proportion to their novelty, it is not able indeed to be ignorant of itself, but is also not able to think of itself? Moreover, how intently it is bent upon sensible things that are without it, may be conjectured from this one fact, that it is so greedy of sensible light, that if any one through carelessness, or ignorance of the possible consequences, place a light at nighttime where an infant is lying down, on that side to which the eyes of the child so lying down can be bent, but its neck cannot be turned, the gaze of that child will be so fixed in that direction, that we have known some to have come to squint by this means, in that the eyes retained that form which habit in some way impressed upon them while tender and soft. In the case, too, of the other bodily senses, the souls of infants, as far as their age permits, so narrow themselves as it were, and are bent upon them, that they either vehemently detest or vehemently desire that only which offends or allures through the flesh, but do not think of their own inward self, nor can be made to do so by admonition; because they do not yet know the signs that express admonition, whereof words are the chief, of which as of other things they are wholly ignorant. And that it is one thing not to know oneself, another not to think of oneself, we have shown already in the same book.

We can set aside infancy, since we cannot ask infants about what is happening inside them, and we ourselves have largely forgotten that stage. It is enough for us to be certain of this: when a person becomes capable of thinking about the nature of his own mind and discovering what is true, he will find it nowhere but in himself. And what he finds will not be something he never knew, but something he had not yet thought about. For what do we know if we do not know what is in our own mind, when we can know nothing at all that we do know except through the mind?

8. But let us pass by the infantine age, since we cannot question it as to what goes on within itself, while we have ourselves pretty well forgotten it. Let it suffice only for us hence to be certain, that when man has come to be able to think of the nature of his own mind, and to find out what is the truth, he will find it nowhere else but in himself. And he will find, not what he did not know, but that of which he did not think. For what do we know, if we do not know what is in our own mind; when we can know nothing at all of what we do know, unless by the mind?

The function of thought is so powerful that the mind itself cannot place itself within its own sight unless it thinks of itself. In fact, nothing is in the sight of the mind except what is being thought of. This means that not even the mind itself, by which we think whatever we think, can be in its own sight except by thinking of itself. But I cannot explain how the mind is not in its own sight when it is not thinking of itself, while it can never be without itself—as if the mind were one thing and the sight of itself were another. This kind of statement makes sense when speaking of the bodily eye. The bodily eye is fixed in its proper place in the body, but its sight extends to external things and reaches even to the stars. The eye is not in its own sight unless it looks at itself by means of a mirror, as mentioned above. This certainly does not happen when the mind places itself in its own sight by thinking of itself. Does the mind see one part of itself by means of another part when it looks at itself in thought, the way we look at some of our bodily members with our eyes? What could be more absurd? For what can remove the mind except itself? Or where can it be placed so as to be in its own sight, except before itself? Therefore it will not be where it was when it was not in its own sight, because it has been put down in one place after being taken away from another. But if it migrated in order to be beheld, where will it remain in order to behold? Is it doubled, so as to be in two places at the same time—both where it can behold and where it can be beheld—so that in itself it may be beholding, and before itself beheld? If we ask the truth, it will tell us nothing of the sort, since these are merely imagined images of bodily objects that we conceive when we conceive in this way. That the mind is not such is very certain to the few minds capable of inquiring into the truth on such a subject. Therefore, the beholding of the mind is something pertaining to its nature and is recalled to that nature when it conceives of itself—not by moving through space, but by an incorporeal conversion. When it is not conceiving of itself, it is not in its own sight, nor is its own perception formed from it, yet it still knows itself as though it were to itself a remembrance of itself. This is like someone skilled in many branches of learning: the things he knows are contained in his memory, but nothing is in the sight of his mind except what he is conceiving, while all the rest are stored up in a kind of secret knowledge called memory. The trinity we were setting forth was constituted in this way: first, we placed in the memory the object by which the perception of the perceiver was formed; next, the conformation or image which is impressed by it; lastly, love or will as that which combines the two. When the mind beholds itself in conception, it understands and knows itself; therefore it begets this understanding and knowledge of itself. For an incorporeal thing is understood when it is beheld and is known when understood. Yet the mind does not beget this knowledge of itself when it beholds itself as understood by conception as though it had been unknown to itself before; rather, it was known to itself in the way that things contained in the memory but not being thought of are known—just as we say that a person knows letters even when he is thinking of something else and not of letters. These two, the begetter and the begotten, are coupled together by love as by a third, which is nothing else than will, seeking or holding fast the enjoyment of something. We held, therefore, that a trinity of the mind is to be indicated also by these three terms: memory, intelligence, will.

The function of thought, however, is so great, that not even the mind itself can, so to say, place itself in its own sight, except when it thinks of itself; and hence it is so far the case, that nothing is in the sight of the mind, except that which is being thought of, that not even the mind itself, whereby we think whatever we do think, can be in its own sight otherwise than by thinking of itself. But in what way it is not in its own sight when it is not thinking of itself, while it can never be without itself, as though itself were one thing, and the sight of itself another, it is not in my power to discover. For this is not unreasonably said of the eye of the body; for the eye itself of the body is fixed in its own proper place in the body, but its sight extends to things external to itself, and reaches even to the stars. And the eye is not in its own sight, since it does not look at itself, unless by means of a mirror, as is said above; a thing that certainly does not happen when the mind places itself in its own sight by thinking of itself. Does it then see one part of itself by means of another part of itself, when it looks at itself in thought, as we look at some of our members, which can be in our sight, with other also of our members, viz. with our eyes? What can be said or thought more absurd? For by what is the mind removed, except by itself? Or where is it placed so as to be in its own sight, except before itself? Therefore it will not be there, where it was, when it was not in its own sight; because it has been put down in one place, after being taken away from another. But if it migrated in order to be beheld, where will it remain in order to behold? Is it as it were doubled, so as to be in this and in that place at the same time, viz. both where it can behold, and where it can be beheld; that in itself it may be beholding, and before itself beheld? If we ask the truth, it will tell us nothing of the sort since it is but feigned images of bodily objects of which we conceive when we conceive thus; and that the mind is not such, is very certain to the few minds by which the truth on such a subject can be inquired. It appears, therefore, that the beholding of the mind is something pertaining to its nature, and is recalled to that nature when it conceives of itself, not as if by moving through space, but by an incorporeal conversion; but when it is not conceiving of itself, it appears that it is not indeed in its own sight, nor is its own perception formed from it, but yet that it knows itself as though it were to itself a remembrance of itself. Like one who is skilled in many branches of learning: the things which he knows are contained in his memory, but nothing thereof is in the sight of his mind except that of which he is conceiving; while all the rest are stored up in a kind of secret knowledge, which is called memory. The trinity, then, which we were setting forth, was constituted in this way: first, we placed in the memory the object by which the perception of the percipient was formed; next, the conformation, or as it were the image which is impressed thereby; lastly, love or will as that which combines the two. When the mind, then, beholds itself in conception, it understands and cognizes itself; it begets, therefore, this its own understanding and cognition. For an incorporeal thing is understood when it is beheld, and is cognized when understood. Yet certainly the mind does not so beget this knowledge of itself, when it beholds itself as understood by conception, as though it had before been unknown to itself; but it was known to itself, in the way in which things are known which are contained in the memory, but of which one is not thinking; since we say that a man knows letters even when he is thinking of something else, and not of letters. And these two, the begetter and the begotten, are coupled together by love, as by a third, which is nothing else than will, seeking or holding fast the enjoyment of something. We held, therefore, that a trinity of the mind is to be intimated also by these three terms, memory, intelligence, will.

But since the mind, as we said near the end of the tenth book, always remembers itself and always understands and loves itself, although it does not always think of itself as distinct from things that are not itself, we must ask how understanding (intellectus) relates to conception, while the notion (notitia) of each thing in the mind, even when one is not thinking of it, is said to belong only to memory. For if this is so, then the mind did not have these three things: namely, the remembrance, the understanding, and the love of itself; rather, it only remembered itself, and afterward, when it began to think of itself, only then did it understand and love itself.

9. But since the mind, as we said near the end of the same tenth book, always remembers itself, and always understands and loves itself, although it does not always think of itself as distinguished from those things which are not itself; we must inquire in what way understanding ( intellectus) belongs to conception, while the notion ( notitia) of each thing that is in the mind, even when one is not thinking of it, is said to belong only to the memory. For if this is so, then the mind had not these three things: viz. the remembrance, the understanding, and the love of itself; but it only remembered itself, and afterwards, when it began to think of itself, then it understood and loved itself.

Let us look more carefully at the example we presented, which showed that not knowing something is different from not thinking about it. It may happen that a person knows something even though he is not thinking about it, when he is thinking about something else instead. When someone who is skilled in two or more areas of knowledge is thinking about one of them, he is not thinking about the other or others, yet he still knows them. But can we rightly say, "This musician certainly knows music, but he does not now understand it because he is not thinking about it; however, he does now understand geometry because that is what he is now thinking about"? Such a statement is clearly absurd. What if we were to say, "This musician certainly knows music, but he does not now love it while he is not thinking about it; however, he does now love geometry because that is what he is now thinking about"—is this not equally absurd? But we correctly say, "This person whom you see debating about geometry is also a skilled musician, for he remembers, understands, and loves music; but although he both knows and loves it, he is not now thinking about it, since he is thinking about geometry, which he is discussing." From this we learn that we have a kind of knowledge of certain things stored in the depths of the mind, and when we think about it, it steps forward into the open and is placed in plain view before the mind. Then the mind discovers that it remembers, understands, and loves itself, even when it was not thinking about itself because it was thinking about something else. But in the case of something we have not thought about for a long time and cannot think about unless reminded, we somehow, in a strange way if the expression is permitted, do not know that we know it. In short, it is rightly said by the person who reminds another, "You know this, but you do not know that you know it; I will remind you, and you will discover that you know what you thought you did not know." Books produce the same results—those books written about subjects which the reader finds to be true under reason's guidance, not subjects he believes to be true based on the narrator's account, as in history, but those which he himself also finds to be true, either in himself or in that truth itself which is the light of the mind. But whoever cannot grasp these things, even when reminded, is buried too deeply in the darkness of ignorance through great blindness of heart and desperately needs divine help to be able to reach true wisdom.

Wherefore let us consider more carefully that example which we have adduced, wherein it was shown that not knowing a thing is different from not thinking [conceiving] of it; and that it may so happen that a man knows something of which he is not thinking, when he is thinking of something else, not of that. When any one, then, who is skilled in two or more branches of knowledge is thinking of one of them, though he is not thinking of the other or others, yet he knows them. But can we rightly say, This musician certainly knows music, but he does not now understand it, because he is not thinking of it; but he does now understand geometry, for of that he is now thinking? Such an assertion, as far as appears, is absurd. What, again, if we were to say, This musician certainly knows music, but he does not now love it, while he is not now thinking of it; but he does now love geometry, because of that he is now thinking — is not this similarly absurd? But we say quite correctly, This person whom you perceive disputing about geometry is also a perfect musician, for he both remembers music, and understands, and loves it; but although he both knows and loves it, he is not now thinking of it, since he is thinking of geometry, of which he is disputing. And hence we are warned that we have a kind of knowledge of certain things stored up in the recesses of the mind, and that this, when it is thought of, as it were, steps forth in public, and is placed as if openly in the sight of the mind; for then the mind itself finds that it both remembers, and understands, and loves itself, even although it was not thinking of itself, when it was thinking of something else. But in the case of that of which we have not thought for a long time, and cannot think of it unless reminded; that, if the phrase is allowable, in some wonderful way I know not how, we do not know that we know. In short, it is rightly said by him who reminds, to him whom he reminds, You know this, but you do not know that you know it; I will remind you, and you will find that you know what you had thought you did not know. Books, too, lead to the same results, viz. those that are written upon subjects which the reader under the guidance of reason finds to be true; not those subjects which he believes to be true on the faith of the narrator, as in the case of history; but those which he himself also finds to be true, either of himself, or in that truth itself which is the light of the mind. But he who cannot contemplate these things, even when reminded, is too deeply buried in the darkness of ignorance, through great blindness of heart and too wonderfully needs divine help, to be able to attain to true wisdom.

For this reason I have wanted to provide some kind of proof about the act of conceiving that might show how the mind's eye is informed from the things contained in memory when recollecting, and how something is begotten when a person conceives that was already in him when, before he conceived it, he remembered it. This is easier to distinguish when things happen at different times, where the parent precedes the offspring by an interval of time. But if we look at the inner memory by which the mind remembers itself, the inner understanding by which it understands itself, and the inner will by which it loves itself—where these three always exist together and always have existed together since they first began to be, whether they were being thought of or not—the image of this trinity will indeed appear to belong even to memory alone. However, in this case a word cannot exist without a thought (for we think everything we say, even when it is said by that inner word which belongs to no particular language), so this image is better discerned in these three things: memory, intelligence, and will. By intelligence I now mean that by which we understand in thought, that is, when our thought is formed by discovering those things that were present to memory but were not being thought of. By will I mean that will, or love, or preference which joins this offspring and parent together and is in some way common to both. This is why I also tried, in the eleventh book, to guide slower readers by means of outward sensible things that are seen by the eyes of the flesh. I then proceeded to lead them into that power of the inner man by which he reasons about temporal things, while postponing consideration of the higher power by which he contemplates eternal things. I discussed this in two books, distinguishing in the twelfth book between these two—the higher and the lower—and showing that the lower ought to be subject to the higher. In the thirteenth book I discussed, as truthfully and briefly as I could, the function of the lower power, which contains the wholesome knowledge of human things, so that we may act in this temporal life in such a way as to attain what is eternal. I have briefly covered in a single book a subject so complex and extensive, and one so well explored by the many and great arguments of many and great men, while showing that a trinity also exists in it, but not yet one that can be called an image of God.

10. For this reason I have wished to adduce some kind of proof, be it what it might, respecting the act of conceiving, such as might serve to show in what way, out of the things contained in the memory, the mind's eye is informed in recollecting, and some such thing is begotten, when a man conceives, as was already in him when, before he conceived, he remembered; because it is easier to distinguish things that take place at successive times, and where the parent precedes the offspring by an interval of time. For if we refer ourselves to the inner memory of the mind by which it remembers itself, and to the inner understanding by which it understands itself, and to the inner will by which it loves itself, where these three always are together, and always have been together since they began to be at all, whether they were being thought of or not; the image of this trinity will indeed appear to pertain even to the memory alone; but because in this case a word cannot be without a thought (for we think all that we say, even if it be said by that inner word which belongs to no separate language), this image is rather to be discerned in these three things, viz. memory, intelligence, will. And I mean now by intelligence that by which we understand in thought, that is, when our thought is formed by the finding of those things, which had been at hand to the memory but were not being thought of; and I mean that will, or love, or preference which combines this offspring and parent, and is in some way common to both. Hence it was that I tried also, viz. in the eleventh book, to lead on the slowness of readers by means of outward sensible things which are seen by the eyes of the flesh; and that I then proceeded to enter with them upon that power of the inner man whereby he reasons of things temporal, deferring the consideration of that which dominates as the higher power, by which he contemplates things eternal. And I discussed this in two books, distinguishing the two in the twelfth, the one of them being higher and the other lower, and that the lower ought to be subject to the higher; and in the thirteenth I discussed, with what truth and brevity I could, the office of the lower, in which the wholesome knowledge of things human is contained, in order that we may so act in this temporal life as to attain that which is eternal; since, indeed, I have cursorily included in a single book a subject so manifold and copious, and one so well known by the many and great arguments of many and great men, while manifesting that a trinity exists also in it, but not yet one that can be called an image of God.

We have now arrived at the point where we need to examine the noblest part of the human mind—the part by which it knows or can know God—so that we may find in it the image of God. Although the human mind is not of the same nature as God, the image of that nature (than which none is better) must be sought and found in the best part of our own nature. But the mind must first be considered as it exists in itself, before it participates in God, and God's image must be found in it. As we have said, even though the mind may be worn out and defaced by losing its participation in God, the image of God still remains. It is God's image precisely in this: that it is capable of God and can participate in Him. This great capacity is only possible because the mind is His image. So then, the mind remembers, understands, and loves itself. If we recognize this, we recognize a trinity—not yet God Himself, but finally an image of God. The memory does not receive from outside what it holds. The understanding does not find outside itself what it contemplates, as the eye of the body does. The will has not joined these two from outside, as it joins the form of a physical object with what is produced in the vision of someone looking at it. Nor has the act of thinking, in turning toward something, found an image of something seen outside that was somehow grasped and stored in memory, from which the mental picture of someone remembering was formed, with the will joining the two as a third element. We showed that this happens in those trinities discovered in physical things, or which were somehow drawn inward from bodily objects through the bodily senses—all of which we discussed in the eleventh book. Nor does it happen as it did (or appeared to) when we went further to discuss that knowledge belonging to the operations of the inner man, which had to be distinguished from wisdom. The subject matter of that knowledge was, in a sense, external to the mind. It was either brought to the mind through historical information—such as deeds and words that occur in time and pass away, or that are established in the natural order of things in their own times and places—or it arises in the person himself without being there before, whether through others teaching him or through his own thinking. Examples include faith, which we discussed at length in the thirteenth book, or the virtues, by which (if they are true) a person lives well in this mortal life so as to live blessedly in that immortality which God promises. These and similar things have their proper order in time, and in that order we more easily discerned a trinity of memory, sight, and love. Some such things exist before the learner's knowledge of them. They are knowable even before they are known, and they generate knowledge of themselves in the learner. They either exist in their own proper places or have happened in the past. Although things that are past no longer exist themselves, certain signs of them as past do exist, and seeing or hearing these signs makes it known that they happened and have passed away. These signs are either located in the places themselves (such as monuments of the dead or similar things), or they exist in trustworthy written books (like all weighty and approved history), or they are in the minds of those who already know them. What is already known to them is certainly knowable to others as well, whose knowledge it preceded, and who are able to know it through the information of those who already know it. When all these things are learned, they produce a kind of trinity: the thing's own proper form (which was knowable even before it was known), the application of the learner's knowledge to this form (which begins to exist when he learns it), and the will as a third element combining the two. When they are known, yet another trinity is produced in recollecting them, and this trinity now exists inwardly in the mind itself. It consists of the images that were impressed on the memory when the things were learned, the shaping of thought when attention is directed to these images through recollection, and the will as a third element combining these two. But those things that arise in the mind without having been there before—such as faith and similar things—although they appear to come from outside because they are implanted through teaching, are not located outside or performed outside like the things that are believed. Rather, they began to exist entirely within the mind itself. For faith is not what is believed, but that by which one believes. The former is believed, the latter is seen. Nevertheless, because faith began to exist in a mind that was already a mind before these things began to be in it, it seems to be something external, and it will be counted among past things when sight succeeds it and faith itself ceases to be. As long as faith is present, retained, beheld, and loved, it creates one trinity. But later, through some trace of itself that it will have left in the memory as it passes away, it will create a different trinity—as has already been said above.

11. But we have come now to that argument in which we have undertaken to consider the noblest part of the human mind, by which it knows or can know God, in order that we may find in it the image of God. For although the human mind is not of the same nature with God, yet the image of that nature than which none is better, is to be sought and found in us, in that than which our nature also has nothing better. But the mind must first be considered as it is in itself, before it becomes partaker of God; and His image must be found in it. For, as we have said, although worn out and defaced by losing the participation of God, yet the image of God still remains. For it is His image in this very point, that it is capable of Him, and can be partaker of Him; which so great good is only made possible by its being His image. Well, then, the mind remembers, understands, loves itself; if we discern this, we discern a trinity, not yet indeed God, but now at last an image of God. The memory does not receive from without that which it is to hold; nor does the understanding find without that which it is to regard, as the eye of the body does; nor has will joined these two from without, as it joins the form of the bodily object and that which is thence wrought in the vision of the beholder; nor has conception, in being turned to it, found an image of a thing seen without, which has been somehow seized and laid up in the memory, whence the intuition of him that recollects has been formed, will as a third joining the two: as we showed to take place in those trinities which were discovered in things corporeal, or which were somehow drawn within from bodily objects by the bodily sense; of all which we have discoursed in the eleventh book. Nor, again, as it took place, or appeared to do so, when we went on further to discuss that knowledge, which had its place now in the workings of the inner man, and which was to be distinguished from wisdom; of which knowledge the subject-matter was, as it were, adventitious to the mind, and either was brought there by historical information — as deeds and words, which are performed in time and pass away, or which again are established in the nature of things in their own times and places — or arises in the man himself not being there before, whether on the information of others, or by his own thinking — as faith, which we commended at length in the thirteenth book, or as the virtues, by which, if they are true, one so lives well in this mortality as to live blessedly in that immortality which God promises. These and other things of the kind have their proper order in time, and in that order we discerned more easily a trinity of memory, sight, and love. For some of such things anticipate the knowledge of learners. For they are knowable also before they are known, and beget in the learner a knowledge of themselves. And they either exist in their own proper places, or have happened in time past; although things that are past do not themselves exist, but only certain signs of them as past, the sight or hearing of which makes it known that they have been and have passed away. And these signs are either situate in the places themselves, as e.g. monuments of the dead or the like; or exist in written books worthy of credit, as is all history that is of weight and approved authority; or are in the minds of those who already know them; since what is already known to them is knowable certainly to others also, whose knowledge it has anticipated, and who are able to know it on the information of those who do know it. And all these things, when they are learned, produce a certain kind of trinity, viz. by their own proper species, which was knowable also before it was known, and by the application to this of the knowledge of the learner, which then begins to exist when he learns them, and by will as a third which combines both; and when they are known, yet another trinity is produced in the recollecting of them, and this now inwardly in the mind itself, from those images which, when they were learned, were impressed upon the memory, and from the informing of the thought when the look has been turned upon these by recollection, and from the will which as a third combines these two. But those things which arise in the mind, not having been there before, as faith and other things of that kind, although they appear to be adventitious, since they are implanted by teaching, yet are not situate without or transacted without, as are those things which are believed; but began to be altogether within in the mind itself. For faith is not that which is believed, but that by which it is believed; and the former is believed, the latter seen. Nevertheless, because it began to be in the mind, which was a mind also before these things began to be in it, it seems to be somewhat adventitious, and will be reckoned among things past, when sight shall have succeeded, and itself shall have ceased to be. And it makes now by its presence, retained as it is, and beheld, and loved, a different trinity from that which it will then make by means of some trace of itself, which in passing it will have left in the memory: as has been already said above.

There is some question, however, whether the virtues by which one lives well in this present mortal life, seeing that they also begin to exist in the mind (which was still a mind even when it existed before without them), likewise cease to exist when they have brought us to eternal things. Some have thought that they will cease, and in the case of three virtues—prudence, fortitude, and temperance—such a claim seems to have some merit. But justice is immortal and will be made perfect in us rather than cease to be. Yet Tullius, the great master of eloquence, when arguing in the dialogue Hortensius, says of all four: If we were allowed, when we departed from this life, to live forever in the islands of the blessed, as myths tell us, what need would there be of eloquence when there would be no trials, or what need even of the virtues themselves? For we would not need fortitude when nothing involving toil or danger was set before us; nor justice, when there was nothing belonging to another to be desired; nor temperance, to govern desires that would not exist; nor indeed would we need prudence, when there was no choice offered between good and evil. We would be blessed, therefore, solely by learning and knowing nature, by which alone the life of the gods is also praiseworthy. And from this we may understand that everything else is a matter of necessity, but this is a matter of free choice. This great orator, then, when proclaiming the excellence of philosophy and going over again all that he had learned from philosophers and explaining it excellently and pleasantly, has affirmed that all four virtues are necessary only in this life, which we see to be full of troubles and mistakes. But not one of them is necessary when we have departed from this life, if we are permitted to live where there is a blessed life. Rather, blessed souls are blessed only in learning and knowing, that is, in the contemplation of nature, than which nothing is better and more lovable. It is that nature which created and appointed all other natures. And if it belongs to justice to be subject to the government of this nature, then justice is certainly immortal and will not cease to be in that blessedness, but will be such and so great that it cannot be more perfect or greater. Perhaps, too, the other three virtues will exist in that blessedness—prudence though no longer with any risk of error, and fortitude without the burden of bearing evils, and temperance without the resistance of desire. So it may be the role of prudence to prefer or equate no good thing to God; and of fortitude, to cling to him most steadfastly; and of temperance, to take pleasure in no harmful defect. But what justice is now concerned with in helping the wretched, and prudence in guarding against treachery, and fortitude in bearing troubles patiently, and temperance in controlling evil pleasures, will not exist there, where there will be no evil at all. And therefore those acts of the virtues which are necessary to this mortal life, like the faith to which they are to be referred, will be counted among things past. And they form now a different trinity, while we hold, look at, and love them as present, from what they will form then, when we shall discover them not to be, but to have been, by certain traces of them which they will have left in passing in the memory. For then, too, there will be a trinity, when that trace, whatever it may be, is retained in the memory and truly recognized, and then these two are joined by will as a third.

12. There is, however, some question raised, whether the virtues likewise by which one lives well in this present mortality, seeing that they themselves begin also to be in the mind, which was a mind none the less when it existed before without them, cease also to exist at that time when they have brought us to things eternal. For some have thought that they will cease, and in the case of three — prudence, fortitude, temperance — such an assertion seems to have something in it; but justice is immortal, and will rather then be made perfect in us than cease to be. Yet Tullius, the great author of eloquence, when arguing in the dialogue Hortensius, says of all four: If we were allowed, when we migrated from this life, to live forever in the islands of the blessed, as fables tell, what need were there of eloquence when there would be no trials, or what need, indeed, of the very virtues themselves? For we should not need fortitude when nothing of either toil or danger was proposed to us; nor justice, when there was nothing of anybody else's to be coveted; nor temperance, to govern lasts that would not exist; nor, indeed, should we need prudence, when there was no choice offered between good and evil. We should be blessed, therefore, solely by learning and knowing nature, by which alone also the life of the gods is praiseworthy. And hence we may perceive that everything else is a matter of necessity, but this is one of free choice. This great orator, then, when proclaiming the excellence of philosophy, going over again all that he had learned from philosophers, and excellently and pleasantly explaining it, has affirmed all four virtues to be necessary in this life only, which we see to be full of troubles and mistakes; but not one of them when we shall have migrated from this life, if we are permitted to live there where is a blessed life; but that blessed souls are blessed only in learning and knowing, i.e. in the contemplation of nature, than which nothing is better and more lovable. It is that nature which created and appointed all other natures. And if it belongs to justice to be subject to the government of this nature then justice is certainly immortal; nor will it cease to be in that blessedness, but will be such and so great that it cannot be more perfect or greater. Perhaps, too, the other three virtues — prudence although no longer with any risk of error, and fortitude without the vexation of bearing evils, and temperance without the thwarting of lust — will exist in that blessedness: so that it may be the part of prudence to prefer or equal no good thing to God; and of fortitude, to cleave to Him most steadfastly; and of temperance, to be pleased by no harmful defect. But that which justice is now concerned with in helping the wretched, and prudence in guarding against treachery, and fortitude in bearing troubles patiently, and temperance in controlling evil pleasures, will not exist there, where there will be no evil at all. And hence those acts of the virtues which are necessary to this mortal life, like the faith to which they are to be referred, will be reckoned among things past; and they make now a different trinity, while we hold, look at, and love them as present, from that which they will then make, when we shall discover them not to be, but to have been, by certain traces of them which they will have left in passing in the memory; since then, too, there will be a trinity, when that trace, be it of what sort it may, shall be retained in the memory, and truly recognized, and then these two be joined by will as a third.

In all these temporary things we've mentioned, sometimes the things we can know exist before we know them—like objects we perceive with our senses that were already there before we knew about them, or anything we learn through history. But sometimes things come into existence at the exact same moment we know them—for instance, if something visible that never existed before suddenly appears before our eyes, it obviously doesn't exist before we know it. Or if a sound is made where someone can hear it, clearly the sound and the hearing of it begin and end at the same time. But whether they come before in time or start existing simultaneously, knowable things produce knowledge—they aren't produced by knowledge. Yet once knowledge has happened, when things that have been learned and stored in memory are recalled through recollection, everyone can see that holding them in memory comes before in time to seeing them in recollection, and to the will joining these two things as a third element. In the mind, however, it's not like this. The mind doesn't come to itself from outside, as if the self came to the already-existing self from somewhere else when that self didn't already exist, or didn't come from somewhere else but rather within the already-existing mind that same mind was born when it didn't already exist—like how faith, which wasn't there before, arises in a mind that already existed. Nor does the mind see itself as if it were placed in its own memory through recollection after knowing itself, as though it wasn't there before it knew itself. Rather, from the moment it began to exist, it has never stopped remembering, understanding, and loving itself, as we've already shown. So when the mind turns toward itself in thought, a trinity arises, in which we can now finally also discern a word, since it is formed from the thought itself, with the will joining both. Here, then, we can recognize the image we're searching for better than we have up to now.

13. In the knowledge of all these temporal things which we have mentioned, there are some knowable things which precede the acquisition of the knowledge of them by an interval of time, as in the case of those sensible objects which were already real before they were known, or of all those things that are learned through history; but some things begin to be at the same time with the knowing of them — just as, if any visible object, which did not exist before at all, were to rise up before our eyes, certainly it does not precede our knowing it; or if there be any sound made where there is some one to hear, no doubt the sound and the hearing that sound begin and end simultaneously. Yet none the less, whether preceding in time or beginning to exist simultaneously, knowable things generate knowledge, and are not generated by knowledge. But when knowledge has come to pass, whenever the things known and laid up in memory are reviewed by recollection, who does not see that the retaining them in the memory is prior in time to the sight of them in recollection, and to the uniting of the two things by will as a third? In the mind, however, it is not so. For the mind is not adventitious to itself, as though there came to itself already existing, that same self not already existing, from somewhere else, or did not indeed come from somewhere else, but that in the mind itself already existing, there was born that same mind not already existing; just as faith, which before was not, arises in the mind which already was. Nor does the mind see itself, as it were, set up in its own memory by recollection subsequently to the knowing of itself, as though it was not there before it knew itself; whereas,doubtless, from the time when it began to be, it has never ceased to remember, to understand, and to love itself, as we have already shown. And hence, when it is turned to itself by thought, there arises a trinity, in which now at length we can discern also a word; since it is formed from thought itself, will uniting both. Here, then, we may recognize, more than we have hitherto done, the image of which we are in search.

However, someone might say: What the mind uses to remember itself—since the mind is always present to itself—is not actually memory, because memory deals with things past, not things present. Some people, including Cicero, when discussing the virtues, have divided prudence into three parts: memory, understanding, and forethought. They assigned memory to things past, understanding to things present, and forethought to things future. This last one is certain only for those who can predict the future, which is not a human ability unless granted from above, as it was to the prophets. The book of Wisdom, speaking about human beings, says: "The thoughts of mortals are fearful, and our forethought uncertain." But memory of things past and understanding of things present are certain—certain, I mean, regarding incorporeal things that are present, since corporeal things are present to the sight of bodily eyes. But anyone who denies that there is memory of things present should pay attention to language used even in secular literature, where precise wording was valued more than factual truth. Ulysses did not suffer such things, nor did the Ithacan forget himself in such great danger. When Virgil said that Ulysses did not forget himself, what else did he mean except that he remembered himself? And since he was present to himself, he could not possibly remember himself unless memory applied to things present. Therefore, just as what is called memory regarding past things enables us to recall and remember them, so also in the case of something present—as the mind is to itself—what enables the mind to be available to itself so it can be understood by its own thought and then both be joined together by self-love can reasonably be called memory.

14. But some one will say, That is not memory by which the mind, which is ever present to itself, is affirmed to remember itself; for memory is of things past, not of things present. For there are some, and among them Cicero, who, in treating of the virtues, have divided prudence into these three — memory, understanding, forethought: to wit, assigning memory to things past, understanding to things present, forethought to things future; which last is certain only in the case of those who are prescient of the future; and this is no gift of men, unless it be granted from above, as to the prophets. And hence the book of Wisdom, speaking of men, The thoughts of mortals, it says, are fearful, and our forethought uncertain. But memory of things past, and understanding of things present, are certain: certain, I mean, respecting things incorporeal, which are present; for things corporeal are present to the sight of the corporeal eyes. But let any one who denies that there is any memory of things present, attend to the language used even in profane literature, where exactness of words was more looked for than truth of things. Nor did Ulysses suffer such things, nor did the Ithacan forget himself in so great a peril. For when Virgil said that Ulysses did not forget himself, what else did he mean, except that he remembered himself? And since he was present to himself, he could not possibly remember himself, unless memory pertained to things present. And, therefore, as that is called memory in things past which makes it possible to recall and remember them; so in a thing present, as the mind is to itself, that is not unreasonably to be called memory, which makes the mind at hand to itself, so that it can be understood by its own thought, and then both be joined together by love of itself.

This trinity of the mind is not the image of God simply because the mind remembers itself, understands itself, and loves itself. Rather, it is the image of God because it can also remember, understand, and love Him by whom it was made. When it does this, it becomes wise. But if it does not do this—even when it remembers, understands, and loves itself—then it is foolish. Let it therefore remember its God, according to whose image it was made, and let it understand and love Him. Or to say the same thing more briefly: let it worship God, who was not made, by whom it was made and through whom it is capable of partaking in Him. Therefore it is written, "Behold, the worship of God, that is wisdom." And then it will be wise, not by its own light, but by participating in that supreme Light. And because it is eternal, it will reign in blessedness. For this wisdom of man is so called because it is also from God. Then it is true wisdom; for if it is merely human, it is empty. Yet we do not say it is "of God" in the same way we say that God is wise by His own wisdom. For God is not wise by participating in Himself, as the mind is wise by participating in God. Just as we speak of "the righteousness of God" not only when referring to that by which He Himself is righteous, but also to that which He gives to man when He justifies the ungodly—which latter righteousness the apostle commends by saying of some that, not knowing the righteousness of God and seeking to establish their own righteousness, they are not subject to the righteousness of God—so also it may be said of some that, not knowing the wisdom of God and seeking to establish their own wisdom, they are not subject to the wisdom of God.

15. This trinity, then, of the mind is not therefore the image of God, because the mind remembers itself, and understands and loves itself; but because it can also remember, understand, and love Him by whom it was made. And in so doing it is made wise itself. But if it does not do so, even when it remembers, understands, and loves itself, then it is foolish. Let it then remember its God, after whose image it is made, and let it understand and love Him. Or to say the same thing more briefly, let it worship God, who is not made, by whom because itself was made, it is capable and can be partaker of Him; wherefore it is written, Behold, the worship of God, that is wisdom. And then it will be wise, not by its own light, but by participation of that supreme Light; and wherein it is eternal, therein shall reign in blessedness. For this wisdom of man is so called, in that it is also of God. For then it is true wisdom; for if it is human, it is vain. Yet not so of God, as is that wherewith God is wise. For He is not wise by partaking of Himself, as the mind is by partaking of God. But as we call it the righteousness of God, not only when we speak of that by which He Himself is righteous, but also of that which He gives to man when He justifies the ungodly, which latter righteousness the apostle commending, says of some, that not knowing the righteousness of God and going about to establish their own righteousness,they are not subject to the righteousness of God; so also it may be said of some, that not knowing the wisdom of God and going about to establish their own wisdom, they are not subject to the wisdom of God.

There is, then, a nature that is not made, which made all other natures, both great and small. This nature is without doubt more excellent than those it has made, and therefore also more excellent than the rational and intellectual nature that we are discussing—the mind of man, which is made after the image of the One who made it. That nature, which is more excellent than all the rest, is God. He is not far from any of us, as the apostle says, and he adds: For in Him we live, and are moved, and have our being. If this were said with respect to the body, it could be understood even of this physical world, for in it too, with respect to the body, we live and are moved and have our being. Therefore it should be understood in a more excellent and spiritual way, not visible, with respect to the mind, which is made after His image. For what is there that is not in Him, of whom it is divinely written: For of Him, and through Him, and in Him, are all things? If all things are in Him, then in whom can those who live possibly live, or those who are moved be moved, except in Him in whom they exist? Yet not all are with Him in the way that it is said to Him: I am continually with You. Nor is He with all in the way we say: The Lord be with you. So it is the special misery of man not to be with Him, without whom he cannot exist. For without a doubt, man is not without Him in whom he exists. And yet if he does not remember, understand, and love Him, he is not with Him. And when anyone completely forgets something, it is certainly impossible even to remind him of it.

16. There is, then, a nature not made, which made all other natures, great and small, and is without doubt more excellent than those which it has made, and therefore also than that of which we are speaking; viz. than the rational and intellectual nature, which is the mind of man, made after the image of Him who made it. And that nature, more excellent than the rest, is God. And indeed He is not far from every one of us, as the apostle says, who adds, For in Him we live, and are moved, and have our being. And if this were said in respect to the body, it might be understood even of this corporeal world; for in it too in respect to the body, we live, and are moved, and have our being. And therefore it ought to be taken in a more excellent way, and one that is spiritual, not visible, in respect to the mind, which is made after His image. For what is there that is not in Him, of whom it is divinely written, For of Him, and through Him, and in Him, are all things? If, then, all things are in Him, in whom can any possibly live that do live, or be moved that are moved, except in Him in whom they are? Yet all are not with Him in that way in which it is said to Him, I am continually with You. Nor is He with all in that way in which we say, The Lord be with you. And so it is the special wretchedness of man not to be with Him, without whom he cannot be. For, beyond a doubt, he is not without Him in whom he is; and yet if he does not remember, and understand, and love Him, he is not with Him. And when any one absolutely forgets a thing, certainly it is impossible even to remind him of it.

Let's use an example from everyday life. Someone you don't recognize says to you, "You know me." To help you remember, he tells you where, when, and how you met him. If, after he mentions every detail that might help you recall, you still don't recognize him, then you have forgotten so completely that all knowledge of him has been erased from your mind. Nothing remains except that you might take his word for it that you once knew him—or you might not even do that if you don't think the person speaking to you is trustworthy. But if you do remember him, then you go back into your own memory and find there something that had not been completely erased by forgetfulness. Let's return to what led us to use this example from human interaction. Among other things, Psalm 9 says, "The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God," and again Psalm 22 says, "All the ends of the world shall be reminded, and turned unto the Lord." These nations will not have forgotten God so completely that they cannot remember Him when reminded of Him. Yet by forgetting God, as if forgetting their own life, they had been turned into death, that is, into hell. But when reminded, they are turned to the Lord, as if coming back to life by remembering their proper life which they had forgotten. It is also written in Psalm 94, "Perceive now, you who are unwise among the people; and you fools, when will you be wise? He that planted the ear, shall He not hear?" This is spoken to those who said vain things about God because they did not understand Him.

17. Let us take an instance for the purpose from visible things. Somebody whom you do not recognize, says to you, You know me; and in order to remind you, tells you where, when, and how he became known to you; and if, after the mention of every sign by which you might be recalled to remembrance, you still do not recognize him, then you have so come to forget, as that the whole of that knowledge is altogether blotted out of your mind; and nothing else remains, but that you take his word for it who tells you that you once knew him; or do not even do that, if you do not think the person who speaks to you to be worthy of credit. But if you do remember him, then no doubt you return to your own memory, and find in it that which had not been altogether blotted out by forgetfulness. Let us return to that which led us to adduce this instance from the intercourse of men. Among other things, the 9th Psalm says, The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations. that forget God; and again the 22d Psalm, All the ends of the world shall be reminded, and turned unto the Lord. These nations, then, will not so have forgotten God as to be unable to remember Him when reminded of Him; yet, by forgetting God, as though forgetting their own life, they had been turned into death, i.e. into hell. But when reminded they are turned to the Lord, as though coming to life again by remembering their proper life which they had forgotten. It is read also in the 94th Psalm, Perceive now, you who are unwise among the people; and you fools, when will you be wise? He that planted the ear, shall He not hear? etc. For this is spoken to those, who said vain things concerning God through not understanding Him.

But there are even more testimonies in the divine Scriptures concerning the love of God. In the love of God, those other two—namely, memory and understanding—are understood by consequence, since no one loves what he does not remember or what he is wholly ignorant of. And from this comes that well-known and primary commandment: You shall love the Lord your God. The human mind is so constituted that at no time does it fail to remember, understand, and love itself. But since anyone who hates someone seeks to injure him, the mind of man can rightly be said to hate itself when it injures itself. For it wills harm to itself through ignorance, not thinking that what it wills is harmful to it; but it nonetheless does will harm to itself when it wills what would be harmful to it. And so it is written: He who loves iniquity hates his own soul. Therefore, he who knows how to love himself loves God; but he who does not love God, even if he does love himself—something planted in him by nature—is rightly said to hate himself, because he does what is harmful to himself and attacks himself as though he were his own enemy. And this is certainly a terrible delusion: that whereas all wish to benefit themselves, many do nothing but what is most destructive to themselves. When the poet was describing a similar disease of dumb animals, he says: May the gods grant better things to the pious, and assign that delusion to enemies. They were tearing with bare teeth their own torn limbs. Since he was speaking of a disease of the body, why did he call it a delusion, unless because while nature inclines every animal to take all the care it can of itself, that disease was such that those animals tore the very limbs of theirs which they wanted to be safe and sound? But when the mind loves God, and by consequence, as has been said, remembers and understands Him, then it is rightly commanded also to love its neighbor as itself; for it has now come to love itself rightly and not perversely when it loves God, by partaking of whom that image not only exists, but is also renewed so as to be no longer old, and restored so as to be no longer defaced, and beatified so as to be no longer unhappy. For although it loves itself so much that, if the alternative were proposed to it, it would lose all things which it loves less than itself rather than perish, still, by abandoning Him who is above it, in dependence upon whom alone it could guard its own strength, and enjoy Him as its light, to whom it is sung in the Psalm: I will guard my strength in dependence upon You, and again: Draw near to Him, and be enlightened—it has been made so weak and so dark that it has fallen away unhappily from itself too, to those things that are not what itself is and which are beneath itself, by affections that it cannot conquer and delusions from which it sees no way to return. And so, when by God's mercy now penitent, it cries out in the Psalms: My strength fails me; as for the light of my eyes, it also is gone from me.

18. But there are yet more testimonies in the divine Scriptures concerning the love of God. For in it, those other two [namely, memory and understanding] are understood by consequence, inasmuch as no one loves that which he does not remember, or of which he is wholly ignorant. And hence is that well known and primary commandment, You shall love the Lord your God. The human mind, then, is so constituted, that at no time does it not remember, and understand, and love itself. But since he who hates any one is anxious to injure him, not undeservedly is the mind of man also said to hate itself when it injures itself. For it wills ill to itself through ignorance, in that it does not think that what it wills is prejudicial to it; but it none the less does will ill to itself, when it wills what would be prejudicial to it. And hence it is written, He that loves iniquity, hates his own soul. He, therefore, who knows how to love himself, loves God; but he who does not love God, even if he does love himself — a thing implanted in him by nature, — yet is not unsuitably said to hate himself, inasmuch as he does that which is adverse to himself, and assails himself as though he were his own enemy. And this is no doubt a terrible delusion, that whereas all will to profit themselves, many do nothing but that which is most pernicious to themselves. When the poet was describing a like disease of dumb animals, May the gods, says he, grant better things to the pious, and assign that delusion to enemies. They were rending with bare teeth their own torn limbs. Since it was a disease of the body he was speaking of, why has he called it a delusion, unless because, while nature inclines every animal to take all the care it can of itself, that disease was such that those animals rent those very limbs of theirs which they desired should be safe and sound? But when the mind loves God, and by consequence, as has been said remembers and understands Him, then it is rightly enjoined also to love its neighbor as itself; for it has now come to love itself rightly and not perversely when it loves God, by partaking of whom that image not only exists, but is also renewed so as to be no longer old, and restored so as to be no longer defaced, and beatified so as to be no longer unhappy. For although it so love itself, that, supposing the alternative to be proposed to it, it would lose all things which it loves less than itself rather than perish; still, by abandoning Him who is above it, in dependence upon whom alone it could guard its own strength, and enjoy Him as its light, to whom it is sung in the Psalm, I will guard my strength in dependence upon You, and again, Draw near to Him, and be enlightened, — it has been made so weak and so dark, that it has fallen away unhappily from itself too, to those things that are not what itself is, and which are beneath itself, by affections that it cannot conquer, and delusions from which it sees no way to return. And hence, when by God's mercy now penitent, it cries out in the Psalms, My strength fails me; as for the light of my eyes, it also is gone from me.

Even amid these great evils of weakness and delusion, the human mind could not lose its natural ability to remember, understand, and love itself. That's why what I quoted earlier can rightly be said: "Although man walks in an image, surely he is troubled in vain. He heaps up treasures and doesn't know who will gather them." Why does he heap up treasures? Because he has lost the strength he once had to possess God and lack nothing. And why can't he tell for whom he gathers them? Because the light has been taken from his eyes. So he doesn't see what Truth says: "You fool, this very night your soul will be required of you. Then who will get what you've stored up?" Yet because even such a person walks in an image, and because his mind has memory, understanding, and love of itself—if it were made clear to him that he couldn't have both, and he was allowed to choose one and lose the other (either the treasures he's heaped up or his mind), who would be so utterly mindless as to prefer having the treasures over having his mind? Treasures can often corrupt the mind, but a mind not corrupted by treasures can live more easily and freely without any treasures. But who could possess treasures except through the mind? If an infant, born as wealthy as possible, is lord of everything rightfully his but possesses nothing because his mind is unconscious, how could anyone whose mind is completely lost possibly possess anything? But why talk about treasures—that anyone given the choice would prefer going without them rather than going without a mind—when no one prefers, indeed no one even compares them, to the eyes of the body? With those eyes, not just one person here and there (as with gold), but everyone possesses the very heaven. Everyone possesses through bodily eyes whatever he gladly sees. Who, then, if he couldn't keep both but had to lose one, wouldn't prefer to lose his treasures rather than his eyes? Yet if he were given the same choice between losing his eyes or losing his mind, who with a mind doesn't see he'd rather lose the former than the latter? A mind without fleshly eyes is still human, but fleshly eyes without a mind are bestial. And who wouldn't prefer to be human, even blind in bodily sight, rather than a seeing beast?

19. Yet, in the midst of these evils of weakness and delusion, great as they are, it could not lose its natural memory, understanding and love of itself. And therefore what I quoted above can be rightly said, Although man walks in an image, surely he is disquieted in vain: he heaps up treasures, and knows not who shall gather them. For why does he heap up treasures, unless because his strength has deserted him, through which he would have God, and so lack nothing? And why cannot he tell for whom he shall gather them, unless because the light of his eyes is taken from him? And so he does not see what the Truth says, You fool, this night your soul shall be required of you. Then whose shall those things be which you have provided? Yet because even such a man walks in an image, and the man's mind has remembrance, understanding, and love of itself; if it were made plain to it that it could not have both, while it was permitted to choose one and lose the other, viz. either the treasures it has heaped up, or the mind; who is so utterly without mind, as to prefer to have the treasures rather than the mind? For treasures commonly are able to subvert the mind, but the mind that is not subverted by treasures can live more easily and unencumberedly without any treasures. But who will be able to possess treasures unless it be by means of the mind? For if an infant, born as rich as you please, although lord of everything that is rightfully his, yet possesses nothing if his mind be unconscious, how can any one possibly possess anything whose mind is wholly lost? But why say of treasures, that anybody, if the choice be given him, prefers going without them to going without a mind; when there is no one that prefers, nay, no one that compares them, to those lights of the body, by which not one man only here and there, as in the case of gold, but every man, possesses the very heaven? For every one possesses by the eyes of the body whatever he gladly sees. Who then is there, who, if he could not keep both, but must lose one, would not rather lose his treasures than his eyes? And yet if it were put to him on the same condition, whether he would rather lose eyes than mind, who is there with a mind that does not see that he would rather lose the former than the latter? For a mind without the eyes of the flesh is still human, but the eyes of the flesh without a mind are bestial. And who would not rather be a man, even though blind in fleshly sight, than a beast that can see?

I have said this so that even readers who are slower to understand might be briefly reminded how deeply even a weak and erring mind loves itself, even when it wrongly loves and pursues things inferior to itself. It could not love itself if it were completely ignorant of itself—that is, if it did not remember itself or understand itself. Through the image of God within itself, it has the power to cling to Him whose image it is. The mind is positioned in the order of natures (not of physical place) such that nothing exists above it except God alone. When it finally clings completely to Him, it will become one spirit, as the apostle testifies: "He who clings to the Lord is one spirit." This happens as the mind draws near to share in God's nature, truth, and blessedness—though this does not increase God's own nature, truth, and blessedness. When the mind happily clings to that nature, it will live unchangeably and will see everything it sees as unchangeable. Then, as Scripture promises, its desire will be satisfied with good things—unchangeable good things, the very Trinity itself, its own God, whose image it is. So that it may never again suffer harm, it will dwell in the hidden place of His presence, filled with such great fullness of Him that sin will never again delight it. But now, when the mind sees itself, it sees something that is not unchangeable.

20. I have said thus much, that even those who are slower of understanding, to whose eyes or ears this book may come, might be admonished, however briefly, how greatly even a weak and erring mind loves itself, in wrongly loving and pursuing things beneath itself. Now it could not love itself if it were altogether ignorant of itself, i.e. if it did not remember itself, nor understand itself by which image of God within itself it has such power as to be able to cleave to Him whose image it is. For it is so reckoned in the order, not of place, but of natures, as that there is none above it save Him. When, finally, it shall altogether cleave to Him, then it will be one spirit, as the apostle testifies, saying, But he who cleaves to the Lord is one spirit. And this by its drawing near to partake of His nature, truth, and blessedness, yet not by His increasing in His own nature, truth and blessedness. In that nature, then, when it happily has cleaved to it, it will live unchangeably, and will see as unchangeable all that it does see. Then, as divine Scripture promises, His desire will be satisfied with good things, good things unchangeable — the very Trinity itself, its own God, whose image it is. And that it may not ever thenceforward suffer wrong, it will be in the hidden place of His presence, filled with so great fullness of Him, that sin thenceforth will never delight it. But now, when it sees itself, it sees something not unchangeable.

The soul certainly has no doubt that it is miserable and longs to be blessed. It can only hope for this possibility because it is changeable. If it were not changeable, then just as it could not become miserable after being blessed, neither could it become blessed after being miserable. What could have made it miserable under an all-powerful and good God, except its own sin and its Lord's righteousness? And what will make it blessed, except its own merit and its Lord's reward? But its merit is also His grace, and His reward will be its blessedness. The soul cannot give itself the righteousness it has lost and no longer possesses. It received this righteousness when humanity was created, and certainly lost it through sin. Therefore it receives righteousness so that because of this it may deserve to receive blessedness. This is why the apostle truly says to it, when it begins to take pride as though in its own good, "What do you have that you did not receive? Now if you received it, why do you boast as if you had not received it?" But when the soul rightly remembers its own Lord, having received His Spirit, then, because it is taught by an inward teaching, it understands completely that it cannot rise except by His freely given affection, nor could it have fallen except by its own freely chosen defection. Certainly it does not remember its own blessedness, since that blessedness existed but exists no longer, and the soul has utterly forgotten it and therefore cannot even be reminded of it. But it believes what the trustworthy Scriptures of its God say about that blessedness—Scriptures written by His prophet that tell of the blessedness of Paradise and pass down to us historical information about humanity's first good and evil. And the soul remembers the Lord its God, for He always exists. He has not merely existed but ceased to exist, nor does He merely exist now but not before. Just as He will never cease to be, so He never failed to be. And He is wholly present everywhere. Therefore the soul lives, moves, and exists in Him, and so it can remember Him. Not because it recalls having known Him in Adam or anywhere else before the life of this present body, or when it was first made to be placed in this body—for it remembers nothing at all of this. Whatever there was of this has been erased by forgetfulness. But the soul is reminded so that it may turn to God, as though to that light by which it was somehow touched even when turned away from Him. This is why even the ungodly think about eternity and rightly blame and rightly praise many things in human morals. By what rules do they judge, except by those in which they see how people ought to live, even though they themselves do not live that way? And where do they see these rules? They do not see them in their own nature, since these things are clearly seen by the mind, and their minds are admittedly changeable, but these rules are seen as unchangeable by whoever can see them at all. Nor are they seen in the character of their own mind, since these rules are rules of righteousness and their minds are admittedly unrighteous. Where indeed are these rules written, where even the unrighteous person recognizes what is righteous and discerns that he ought to have what he himself does not have? Where are they written, if not in the book of that Light which is called Truth? From there every righteous law is copied and transferred—not by moving to it, but by being impressed upon it—to the heart of the person who works righteousness, just as the impression from a ring passes into wax yet does not leave the ring. But the person who does not work yet still sees how he ought to work is the one who is turned away from that light, which nevertheless still touches him. But the person who does not even see how he ought to live does indeed sin with more excuse, because he is not a transgressor of a law that he knows. Yet even he is sometimes touched by the splendor of the everywhere-present truth, when upon being admonished he confesses.

21. And of this certainly it feels no doubt, that it is wretched, and longs to be blessed nor can it hope for the possibility of this on any other ground than its own changeableness for if it were not changeable, then, as it could not become wretched after being blessed, so neither could it become blessed after being wretched. And what could have made it wretched under an omnipotent and good God, except its own sin and the righteousness of its Lord? And what will make it blessed, unless its own merit, and its Lord's reward? But its merit, too, is His grace, whose reward will be its blessedness; for it cannot give itself the righteousness it has lost, and so has not. For this it received when man was created, and assuredly lost it by sinning. Therefore it receives righteousness, that on account of this it may deserve to receive blessedness; and hence the apostle truly says to it, when beginning to be proud as it were of its own good, For what have you that you did not receive? Now if you received it, why do you glory as if you had not received it? But when it rightly remembers its own Lord, having received His Spirit, then, because it is so taught by an inward teaching, it feels wholly that it cannot rise save by His affection freely given, nor has been able to fall save by its own defection freely chosen. Certainly it does not remember its own blessedness; since that has been, but is not, and it has utterly forgotten it, and therefore cannot even be reminded of it. But it believes what the trustworthy Scriptures of its God tell of that blessedness, which were written by His prophet, and tell of the blessedness of Paradise, and hand down to us historical information of that first both good and ill of man. And it remembers the Lord its God; for He always is, nor has been and is not, nor is but has not been; but as He never will not be, so He never was not. And He is whole everywhere. And hence it both lives, and is moved, and is in Him; and so it can remember Him. Not because it recollects the having known Him in Adam or anywhere else before the life of this present body, or when it was first made in order to be implanted in this body; for it remembers nothing at all of all this. Whatever there is of this, it has been blotted out by forgetfulness. But it is reminded, that it may be turned to God, as though to that light by which it was in some way touched, even when turned away from Him. For hence it is that even the ungodly think of eternity, and rightly blame and rightly praise many things in the morals of men. And by what rules do they thus judge, except by those wherein they see how men ought to live, even though they themselves do not so live? And where do they see these rules? For they do not see them in their own [moral] nature; since no doubt these things are to be seen by the mind, and their minds are confessedly changeable, but these rules are seen as unchangeable by him who can see them at all; nor yet in the character of their own mind, since these rules are rules of righteousness, and their minds are confessedly unrighteous. Where indeed are these rules written, wherein even the unrighteous recognizes what is righteous, wherein he discerns that he ought to have what he himself has not? Where, then, are they written, unless in the book of that Light which is called Truth? Whence every righteous law is copied and transferred (not by migrating to it, but by being as it were impressed upon it) to the heart of the man that works righteousness; as the impression from a ring passes into the wax, yet does not leave the ring. But he who works not, and yet sees how he ought to work, he is the man that is turned away from that light, which yet touches him. But he who does not even see how he ought to live, sins indeed with more excuse, because he is not a transgressor of a law that he knows; but even he too is just touched sometimes by the splendor of the everywhere present truth, when upon admonition he confesses.

Those who are reminded and turn to the Lord from that deformity by which they were conformed to this world through worldly desires are formed anew from the world when they listen to the apostle saying, "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed in the renewing of your mind." In this way, that image may begin to be formed again by the one who first formed it. For that image cannot form itself again, though it could deform itself. He says elsewhere: "Be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new man, which is created after God in righteousness and true holiness." What is meant by "created after God" is expressed in another place as "after the image of God." But the image lost righteousness and true holiness by sinning, and through this that image became defaced and tarnished. It recovers these when it is formed again and renewed. But when he says "in the spirit of your mind," he does not mean two separate things, as if mind were one thing and the spirit of the mind another. He speaks this way because all mind is spirit, but not all spirit is mind. For there is also a Spirit who is God, which cannot be renewed because it cannot grow old. We also speak of a spirit in man that is distinct from the mind. To this spirit belong the images that are formed after the likeness of bodies. The apostle speaks of this to the Corinthians when he says, "But if I pray with a tongue, my spirit prays, but my understanding is unfruitful." He speaks this way when what is said is not understood, since it cannot even be said unless the images of bodily articulate sounds come before the oral sound through the thought of the spirit. The soul of man is also called spirit, as shown by the words in the Gospel, "And he bowed his head and gave up his spirit," which signifies the body's death through the spirit leaving it. We also speak of the spirit of an animal, as is clearly written in the book of Solomon called Ecclesiastes: "Who knows the spirit of man that goes upward, and the spirit of the beast that goes downward to the earth?" It is also written in Genesis that by the flood all flesh died which had in it the spirit of life. We also speak of spirit meaning the wind, which is clearly a bodily thing, as in the Psalms: "Fire and hail, snow and ice, the spirit of the storm." Since spirit is a word with so many meanings, the apostle intended to express by "the spirit of the mind" that spirit which is called the mind. Just as the same apostle, when he says, "In putting off the body of the flesh," certainly did not mean two things, as though flesh were one thing and the body of the flesh another. But because body is a name for many things that have no flesh (for besides flesh, there are many celestial bodies and terrestrial bodies), he expressed by "the body of the flesh" that body which is flesh. In the same way, therefore, by "the spirit of the mind" he meant that spirit which is mind. Elsewhere he has even more plainly called it an image, while teaching the same thing in other words. He says, "Putting off the old man with his deeds, put on the new man, which is renewed in the knowledge of God after the image of him who created him." Where one passage reads, "Put on the new man, which is created after God," the other has, "Put on the new man, which is renewed after the image of him who created him."

22. But those who, by being reminded, are turned to the Lord from that deformity whereby they were through worldly lusts conformed to this world, are formed anew from the world, when they hearken to the apostle, saying, Be not conformed to this world, but be formed again in the renewing of your mind; that that image may begin to be formed again by Him by whom it had been formed at first. For that image cannot form itself again, as it could deform itself. He says again elsewhere: Be renewed in the spirit of your mind; and put ye on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness. That which is meant by created after God, is expressed in another place by after the image of God. But it lost righteousness and true holiness by sinning, through which that image became defaced and tarnished; and this it recovers when it is formed again and renewed. But when he says, In the spirit of your mind, he does not intend to be understood of two things, as though mind were one, and the spirit of the mind another; but he speaks thus, because all mind is spirit, but all spirit is not mind. For there is a Spirit also that is God, which cannot be renewed, because it cannot grow old. And we speak also of a spirit in man distinct from the mind, to which spirit belong the images that are formed after the likeness of bodies; and of this the apostle speaks to the Corinthians, where he says, But if I shall have prayed with a tongue, my spirit prays, but my understanding is unfruitful. For he speaks thus, when that which is said is not understood; since it cannot even be said, unless the images of the corporeal articulate sounds anticipate the oral sound by the thought of the spirit. The soul of man is also called spirit, whence are the words in the Gospel, And He bowed His head, and gave up His spirit; by which the death of the body, through the spirit's leaving it, is signified. We speak also of the spirit of a beast, as it is expressly written in the book of Solomon called Ecclesiastes; Who knows the spirit of man that goes upward, and the spirit of the beast that goes downward to the earth? It is written too in Genesis, where it is said that by the deluge all flesh died which had in it the spirit of life. We speak also of the spirit, meaning the wind, a thing most manifestly corporeal; whence is that in the Psalms, Fire and hail, snow and ice, the spirit of the storm. Since spirit, then, is a word of so many meanings, the apostle intended to express by the spirit of the mind that spirit which is called the mind. As the same apostle also, when he says, In putting off the body of the flesh, certainly did not intend two things, as though flesh were one, and the body of the flesh another; but because body is the name of many things that have no flesh (for besides the flesh, there are many bodies celestial and bodies terrestrial), he expressed by the body of the flesh that body which is flesh. In like manner, therefore, by the spirit of the mind, that spirit which is mind. Elsewhere, too, he has even more plainly called it an image, while enforcing the same thing in other words. Do you, he says, putting off the old man with his deeds, put on the new man, which is renewed in the knowledge of God after the image of Him that created him. Where the one passage reads, Put on the new man, which is created after God, the other has, Put on the new man, which is renewed after the image of Him that created him.

In one place Paul says, "After God," and in another, "After the image of Him that created him." But instead of saying, as in the earlier passages, "In righteousness and true holiness," he later says, "In the knowledge of God." This renewal and reshaping of the mind happens either after God or after the image of God. It is said to be after God so that we don't mistakenly think it happens after some other creature. And it is said to be after the image of God so that we understand this renewal takes place in that part of us where God's image exists—that is, in the mind. It's like when we say that someone who has died as a faithful and righteous person is dead after the body, not after the spirit. What do we mean by "dead after the body" except dead as to the body or in the body, and not dead as to the soul or in the soul? Or if we want to say someone is handsome after the body or strong after the body, not after the mind, what else does this mean except that he is handsome or strong in body, not in mind? The same applies to countless other examples. So we should not understand the words "After the image of Him that created him" as though there were a different image according to which a person is renewed, rather than the very same image which is itself being renewed.

In the one place he says, After God; in the other, After the image of Him that created him. But instead of saying, as in the former passages In righteousness and true holiness, he has put in the latter, In the knowledge of God. This renewal, then, and forming again of the mind, is wrought either after God, or after the image of God. But it is said to be after God, in order that it may not be supposed to be after another creature; and to be after the image of God, in order that this renewing may be understood to take place in that wherein is the image of God, i.e. in the mind. Just as we say, that he who has departed from the body a faithful and righteous man, is dead after the body, not after the spirit. For what do we mean by dead after the body, unless as to the body or in the body, and not dead as to the soul or in the soul? Or if we want to say he is handsome after the body, or strong after the body, not after the mind; what else is this, than that he is handsome or strong in body, not in mind? And the same is the case with numberless other instances. Let us not therefore so understand the words, After the image of Him that created him, as though it were a different image after which he is renewed, and not the very same which is itself renewed.

This renewal certainly does not happen in the single moment of conversion itself, the way renewal in baptism happens in a single moment through the forgiveness of all sins, where not even the smallest sin remains unforgiven. But it is one thing to be freed from a fever, and another to regain strength from the weakness the fever caused. Similarly, it is one thing to pull a weapon out of the body, and another to heal the wound it made through successful treatment. So the first healing is to remove the cause of illness, and this is done by forgiving all sins. But the second healing is to cure the illness itself, and this happens gradually by making progress in renewing that image. These two things are clearly shown in the Psalm where we read, Who forgives all your iniquities, which happens in baptism, and then follows, and heals all your infirmities, and this happens through daily growth as this image is being renewed. The apostle spoke of this very clearly, saying, And though our outward man perish, yet the inner man is renewed day by day. And it is renewed in the knowledge of God, that is, in righteousness and true holiness, according to the apostle's testimonies quoted earlier. Therefore, whoever is renewed day by day by making progress in the knowledge of God and in righteousness and true holiness, transfers his love from temporal things to eternal things, from visible things to intelligible things, from fleshly things to spiritual things. And he diligently perseveres in restraining and diminishing his desire for the former and in binding himself by love to the latter. And he does this to the extent that God helps him. For it is God's own statement, Without me you can do nothing. And when the last day of life finds anyone holding fast to faith in the Mediator while making such progress and growth, he will be welcomed by the holy angels to be led to God, whom he has worshipped, and to be perfected by Him. And so he will receive at the end of the world an incorruptible body, not for punishment but for glory. For the likeness of God will then be perfected in this image when the vision of God is perfected. And the Apostle Paul speaks of this: Now we see through a glass, in an enigma, but then face to face. And again: But we with open face, beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the spirit of the Lord. And this is what happens day by day in those who make good progress.

23. Certainly this renewal does not take place in the single moment of conversion itself, as that renewal in baptism takes place in a single moment by the remission of all sins; for not one, be it ever so small, remains unremitted. But as it is one thing to be free from fever, and another to grow strong again from the infirmity which the fever produced; and one thing again to pluck out of the body a weapon thrust into it, and another to heal the wound thereby made by a prosperous cure; so the first cure is to remove the cause of infirmity, and this is wrought by the forgiving of all sins; but the second cure is to heal the infirmity itself, and this takes place gradually by making progress in the renewal of that image: which two things are plainly shown in the Psalm, where we read, Who forgives all your iniquities, which takes place in baptism; and then follows, and heals all your infirmities; and this takes place by daily additions, while this image is being renewed. And the apostle has spoken of this most expressly, saying, And though our outward man perish, yet the inner man is renewed day by day. And it is renewed in the knowledge of God, i.e. in righteousness and true holiness, according to the testimonies of the apostle cited a little before. He, then, who is day by day renewed by making progress in the knowledge of God, and in righteousness and true holiness, transfers his love from things temporal to things eternal, from things visible to things intelligible, from things carnal to things spiritual; and diligently perseveres in bridling and lessening his desire for the former, and in binding himself by love to the latter. And he does this in proportion as he is helped by God. For it is the sentence of God Himself, Without me you can do nothing. And when the last day of life shall have found any one holding fast faith in the Mediator in such progress and growth as this, he will be welcomed by the holy angels, to be led to God, whom he has worshipped, and to be made perfect by Him; and so will receive in the end of the world an incorruptible body, in order not to punishment, but to glory. For the likeness of God will then be perfected in this image, when the sight of God shall be perfected. And of this the Apostle Paul speaks: Now we see through a glass, in an enigma, but then face to face. And again: But we with open face, beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the spirit of the Lord. And this is what happens from day to day in those that make good progress.

The Apostle John says, "Beloved, now we are the sons of God, and it does not yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when He appears, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is." From this it appears that the full likeness of God will occur in that image of God when it receives the full sight of God. However, this statement by the Apostle John may also possibly be understood as referring to the immortality of the body. For we shall be like God in this way too, but only like the Son, because He alone in the Trinity took a body in which He died, rose again, and which He carried with Him to heaven above. This is also called an image of the Son of God, in which we shall have an immortal body just as He has, being conformed in this respect not to the image of the Father or of the Holy Spirit, but only of the Son, because only of Him is it read and received by sound faith that the Word became flesh. For this reason the apostle says, "Whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren." He is the firstborn certainly from the dead, according to the same apostle, by which death His flesh was sown in dishonor and rose again in glory. According to this image of the Son, to which we are conformed in the body through immortality, we also do what the same apostle speaks of: "As we have borne the image of the earthy, so shall we also bear the image of the heavenly," meaning that we who are mortal after Adam may hold by true faith and sure and certain hope that we shall be immortal after Christ. For we can now bear this same image, not yet in sight but in faith, not yet in fact but in hope. For when the apostle said this, he was speaking of the resurrection of the body.

24. But the Apostle John says, Beloved, now are we the sons of God; and it does not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. Hence it appears, that the full likeness of God is to take place in that image of God at that time when it shall receive the full sight of God. And yet this may also possibly seem to be said by the Apostle John of the immortality of the body. For we shall be like to God in this too, but only to the Son, because He only in the Trinity took a body, in which He died and rose again, and which He carried with Him to heaven above. For this, too, is called an image of the Son of God, in which we shall have, as He has, an immortal body, being conformed in this respect not to the image of the Father or of the Holy Spirit, but only of the Son, because of Him alone is it read and received by a sound faith, that the Word was made flesh. And for this reason the apostle says, Whom He did foreknow, He also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the first-born among many brethren. The first-born certainly from the dead, according to the same apostle; by which death His flesh was sown in dishonor, and rose again in glory. According to this image of the Son, to which we are conformed in the body by immortality, we also do that of which the same apostle speaks, As we have borne the image of the earthy, so shall we also bear the image of the heavenly; to wit, that we who are mortal after Adam, may hold by a true faith, and a sure and certain hope, that we shall be immortal after Christ. For so can we now bear the same image, not yet in sight, but in faith; not yet in fact, but in hope. For the apostle, when he said this, was speaking of the resurrection of the body.

Chapter 19 – John is Rather to Be Understood of Our Perfect Likeness with the Trinity in Life Eternal. Wisdom is Perfected in Happiness.

25. But regarding that image mentioned in the words "Let us make man after our image and likeness," we believe—and after the most thorough investigation we have been able to make, we understand—that man was made after the image of the Trinity, because the text does not say "After my image" or "After your image." Therefore, that passage of the Apostle John must also be understood according to this image, when he says, "We shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is," because he was speaking of the one about whom he had said, "We are the sons of God." The immortality of the flesh will be completed at that moment of the resurrection which the Apostle Paul describes: "In the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet, the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed." For in that very instant, before the judgment, the spiritual body shall rise in power, in incorruption, in glory—the same body that is now sown as a natural body in weakness, in corruption, in dishonor. But the image that is being renewed in the spirit of the mind through the knowledge of God—not outwardly but inwardly, day by day—shall be perfected by that very vision, which after the judgment will be face to face, but which now progresses as through a glass in an enigma. And we must understand that it is because of this perfection that it is said "we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is." For this gift will be given to us at that time when the words "Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you" are spoken. For then the ungodly will be taken away so that they will not see the glory of the Lord, when those on the left hand go into eternal punishment while those on the right go into eternal life. But this is eternal life, as the Truth tells us: "To know you, the one true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent."

25. But in respect to that image indeed, of which it is said, Let us make man after our image and likeness, we believe — and, after the utmost search we have been able to make, understand — that man was made after the image of the Trinity, because it is not said, After my, or After your image. And therefore that place too of the Apostle John must be understood rather according to this image, when he says, We shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is; because he spoke too of Him of whom he had said, We are the sons of God. And the immortality of the flesh will be perfected in that moment of the resurrection, of which the Apostle Paul says, In the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump; and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For in that very twinkling of an eye, before the judgment, the spiritual body shall rise again in power, in incorruption, in glory, which is now sown a natural body in weakness, in corruption, in dishonor. But the image which is renewed in the spirit of the mind in the knowledge of God, not outwardly, but inwardly, from day to day, shall be perfected by that sight itself; which then after the judgment shall be face to face, but now makes progress as through a glass in an enigma. And we must understand it to be said on account of this perfection, that we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. For this gift will be given to us at that time, when it shall have been said, Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you. For then will the ungodly be taken away, so that he shall not see the glory of the Lord, when those on the left hand shall go into eternal punishment, while those on the right go into life eternal. But this is eternal life, as the Truth tells us; to know You, He says, the one true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.

This contemplative wisdom, which I believe is properly called wisdom as distinct from knowledge in sacred Scripture — though it is only human wisdom, which man can possess only by receiving it from God, through sharing in whom a rational and intellectual mind can become truly wise — this contemplative wisdom, I say, is what Cicero praises at the end of his dialogue Hortensius. He writes: "While we think about these things night and day, and sharpen our understanding, which is the eye of the mind, making sure it never grows dull — that is, while we live in philosophy — we who do this have great hope. If this sentiment and wisdom of ours is mortal and perishable, we will still, after fulfilling our human duties, have a pleasant ending, a painless extinction, and something like a rest from life. Or if, on the other hand, as ancient philosophers believed (and the greatest and most famous ones at that), we have eternal and divine souls, then we must surely think that the more they have always stayed in their proper course — that is, in reason and in the desire for inquiry — and the less they have mixed and entangled themselves in the vices and errors of human beings, the easier their ascent and return to heaven will be." Then he adds this brief statement and finishes his argument by repeating it: "Therefore, to finally end my discourse, whether we wish for a tranquil extinction after living in pursuit of these subjects, or to migrate without delay from this present home to another far better one, we must devote all our labor and effort to these pursuits." Here I am amazed that such an intelligent man would promise people living in philosophy (which makes humanity blessed through contemplation of truth) a pleasant ending after completing their human duties, if this sentiment and wisdom of ours is mortal and perishable. It's as if something we did not love, or rather fiercely hated, would then die and come to nothing, making its ending pleasant for us! But he had not actually learned this from the philosophers he praises so highly. Rather, this view smells of the New Academy, where he was pleased to doubt even the most obvious things. But from the philosophers who were the greatest and most famous, as he himself admits, he had learned that souls are eternal. For eternal souls are rightly encouraged to be found in their proper course when the end of this life comes — that is, in reason and in the desire for inquiry — and to mix and entangle themselves less in the vices and errors of human beings, so they may have an easier return to God. But this course consisting in the love and investigation of truth is not sufficient for the wretched, that is, for all mortals who have only this kind of reason and lack faith in the Mediator. I have taken pains to prove this, as much as I could, in earlier books of this work, especially in the fourth and thirteenth.

26. This contemplative wisdom, which I believe is properly called wisdom as distinct from knowledge in the sacred writings; but wisdom only of man, which yet man has not except from Him, by partaking of whom a rational and intellectual mind can be made truly wise — this contemplative wisdom, I say, it is that Cicero commends, in the end of the dialogue Hortensius, when he says: While, then, we consider these things night and day, and sharpen our understanding, which is the eye of the mind, taking care that it be not ever dulled, that is, while we live in philosophy; we, I say, in so doing, have great hope that, if, on the one hand, this sentiment and wisdom of ours is mortal and perishable, we shall still, when we have discharged our human offices, have a pleasant setting, and a not painful extinction, and as it were a rest from life: or if, on the other, as ancient philosophers thought — and those, too, the greatest and far the most celebrated — we have souls eternal and divine, then must we needs think, that the more these shall have always kept in their own proper course, i.e. in reason and in the desire of inquiry, and the less they shall have mixed and entangled themselves in the vices and errors of men, the more easy ascent and return they will have to heaven. And then he says, adding this short sentence, and finishing his discourse by repeating it: Wherefore, to end my discourse at last, if we wish either for a tranquil extinction, after living in the pursuit of these subjects, or if to migrate without delay from this present home to another in no little measure better, we must bestow all our labor and care upon these pursuits. And here I marvel, that a man of such great ability should promise to men living in philosophy, which makes man blessed by contemplation of truth, a pleasant setting after the discharge of human offices, if this our sentiment and wisdom is mortal and perishable; as if that which we did not love, or rather which we fiercely hated, were then to die and come to nothing, so that its setting would be pleasant to us! But indeed he had not learned this from the philosophers, whom he extols with great praise; but this sentiment is redolent of that New Academy, wherein it pleased him to doubt of even the plainest things. But from the philosophers that were greatest and far most celebrated, as he himself confesses, he had learned that souls are eternal. For souls that are eternal are not unsuitably stirred up by the exhortation to be found in their own proper course, when the end of this life shall have come, i.e. in reason and in the desire of inquiry, and to mix and entangle themselves the less in the vices and errors of men, in order that they may have an easier return to God. But that course which consists in the love and investigation of truth does not suffice for the wretched, i.e. for all mortals who have only this kind of reason, and are without faith in the Mediator; as I have taken pains to prove, as much as I could, in former books of this work, especially in the fourth and thirteenth.

In the previous book, the twelfth of this work, we sufficiently distinguished between the rational mind's function in temporal matters, where both our knowing and our action are involved, and the same mind's more excellent function, which is used in contemplating eternal things and is limited to knowing alone. However, I think it would be more helpful if I included something from the Holy Scriptures that would make it easier to distinguish between these two functions.

1. In the book before this, viz. the twelfth of this work, we have done enough to distinguish the office of the rational mind in temporal things, wherein not only our knowing but our action is concerned, from the more excellent office of the same mind, which is employed in contemplating eternal things, and is limited to knowing alone. But I think it more convenient that I should insert somewhat out of the Holy Scriptures, by which the two may more easily be distinguished.

John the Evangelist began his Gospel this way: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him; and without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through Him might believe. He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light. That was the true Light, which lights every man that comes into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not. But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe in His name: which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us (and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father), full of grace and truth. This entire passage I have quoted from the Gospel contains in its earlier parts what is unchangeable and eternal, the contemplation of which makes us blessed. But in the later parts, eternal things are mentioned together with temporal things. Therefore, some things here belong to knowledge, and some to wisdom, according to the distinction we made in the twelfth book. The words In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him; and without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not require the contemplative life and must be understood by the intellectual mind. The more anyone has advanced in this, the wiser he will undoubtedly become. But because of the verse The light shines in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not, faith was certainly necessary so that what was not seen might be believed. By darkness John meant the hearts of mortals turned away from this kind of light and scarcely able to see it. For this reason he adds, There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through Him might believe. Here we come to something that happened in time and belongs to knowledge, which deals with understanding facts. We think of the man John according to the mental image impressed on our memory from our concept of human nature. Whether people believe or not, they think of this in the same way. Both alike know what a man is. They have learned about the outer part, the body, through their bodily eyes. They possess knowledge of the inner part, the soul, within themselves because they are also human and through interaction with other people. Thus they are able to understand what is said, There was a man, whose name was John, because they also know names through the exchange of speech. But the phrase sent from God is held by those who accept it at all through faith. Those who do not hold it by faith either waver in doubt or dismiss it with unbelief. Yet both groups, if they are not among those extremely foolish ones who say in their heart There is no God, think about both things when they hear these words—both what God is and what it means to be sent from God. If they do not think about these things as they truly are, they at least do so as best they can.

2. John the Evangelist has thus begun his Gospel: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him; and without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through Him might believe. He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light. That was the true Light, which lights every man that comes into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not. But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe in His name: which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us (and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father), full of grace and truth. This entire passage, which I have here taken from the Gospel, contains in its earlier portions what is immutable and eternal, the contemplation of which makes us blessed; but in those which follow, eternal things are mentioned in conjunction with temporal things. And hence some things there belong to knowledge, some to wisdom, according to our previous distinction in the twelfth book. For the words — In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him; and without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not: — require a contemplative life, and must be discerned by the intellectual mind; and the more any one has profited in this, the wiser without doubt will he become. But on account of the verse, The light shines in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not, faith certainly was necessary, whereby that which was not seen might be believed. For by darkness he intended to signify the hearts of mortals turned away from light of this kind, and hardly able to behold it; for which reason he subjoins, There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through Him might believe. But here we come to a thing that was done in time, and belongs to knowledge, which is comprised in the cognizance of facts. And we think of the man John under that phantasy which is impressed on our memory from the notion of human nature. And whether men believe or not, they think this in the same manner. For both alike know what man is, the outer part of whom, that is, his body, they have learned through the eyes of the body; but of the inner, that is, the soul, they possess the knowledge in themselves, because they also themselves are men, and through intercourse with men; so that they are able to think what is said, There was a man, whose name was John, because they know the names also by interchange of speech. But that which is there also, viz. sent from God, they who hold at all, hold by faith; and they who do not hold it by faith, either hesitate through doubt, or deride it through unbelief. Yet both, if they are not in the number of those over-foolish ones, who say in their heart There is no God, when they hear these words, think both things, viz. both what God is, and what it is to be sent from God; and if they do not do this as the things themselves really are, they do it at any rate as they can.

We also know the faith itself that exists in our own heart through sources other than Scripture. A person sees whether faith is present in their heart if they believe, or not present if they don't believe. But we don't know it the way we know physical objects that we see with our bodily eyes and can still think about when they're absent by using the mental images of them stored in memory. Nor do we know it like things we haven't seen but somehow construct in our minds from things we have seen, storing them in memory so we can recall them whenever we want and similarly recognize them through recollection—or rather recognize the mental images of them, whatever sort of images we've fixed in our memory. Nor again do we know it like we know a living person, whose soul we don't actually see but infer from our own soul, and from their bodily movements we mentally gaze upon the living person as we have learned to do through sight. Faith is not seen this way in the heart where it exists, by the person whose faith it is. Rather, completely certain knowledge grasps it, and conscience declares it. So even though we are commanded to believe this account because we cannot see what we're commanded to believe, we do see faith itself within ourselves when that faith is in us. This is because faith in absent things is present, faith in things outside us is within us, and faith in things not seen is itself seen. Yet faith still comes into people's hearts in time. And if some people stop being faithful and become unbelievers, faith perishes from them. Sometimes faith is even placed in false things, as when we say "I put faith in him, and he deceived me." This kind of faith, if it should even be called faith, rightly perishes from the heart without blame when truth is found and drives it out. But faith in things that are true passes, as one would wish, into the things themselves. For we shouldn't say that faith perishes when the things that were believed are seen. Can it still be called faith when, according to the definition in the Epistle to the Hebrews, faith is the evidence of things not seen?

3. Further, we know from other sources the faith itself which a man sees to be in his own heart, if he believes, or not to be there, if he does not believe: but not as we know bodies, which we see with the bodily eyes, and think of even when absent through the images of themselves which we retain in memory; nor yet as those things which we have not seen, and which we frame howsoever we can in thought from those which we have seen, and commit them to memory, that we may recur to them when we will, in order that therein we may similarly by recollection discern them, or rather discern the images of them, of whatever sort these are which we have fixed there; nor again as a living man, whose soul we do not indeed see, but conjecture from our own, and from corporeal motions gaze also in thought upon the living man, as we have learned him by sight. Faith as not so seen in the heart in which it is, by him whose it is; but most certain knowledge holds it fast, and conscience proclaims it. Although therefore we are bidden to believe in this account, because we cannot see what we are bidden to believe; nevertheless we see faith itself in ourselves, when that faith is in us; because faith even in absent things is present, and faith in things which are without us is within, and faith in things which are not seen is itself seen, and itself none the less comes into the hearts of men in time; and if any cease to be faithful and become unbelievers, then it perishes from them. And sometimes faith is accommodated even to falsehoods; for we sometimes so speak as to say, I put faith in him, and he deceived me. And this kind of faith, if indeed it too is to be called faith, perishes from the heart without blame, when truth is found and expels it. But faith in things that are true, passes, as one should wish it to pass, into the things themselves. For we must not say that faith perishes, when those things which were believed are seen. For is it indeed still to be called faith, when faith, according to the definition in the Epistle to the Hebrews, is the evidence of things not seen?

In the words that follow, "The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through him might believe," the action, as we have said, takes place in time. For bearing witness even to something that is eternal, like that light which is intelligible, is something done in time. John came to bear witness to this, though he was not that Light but was sent to bear witness of that Light. For he adds, "That was the true Light that lights every man that comes into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not." Now those who know the Latin language understand all these words from things they already know. Some of these things have become known to us through the senses of the body, such as man, or the world itself, whose vastness is so evident to our sight. The sounds of the words themselves also come through hearing, which is a bodily sense. Other things come through the reason of the mind, such as what is said in "And His own received Him not," for this means they did not believe in Him. What belief is, we do not know by any bodily sense but by the reason of the mind. We have learned the meanings of these words, not just their sounds, partly through the sense of the body and partly through the reason of the mind. We have not heard these words for the first time now but had heard them before. We were retaining them in our memory as known things, and we recognized here not only the words themselves but also what they meant. When the two-syllable word "mundus" is uttered, something that is certainly corporeal—a sound—becomes known through the body, that is, through the ear. But what it means has also become known through the body, that is, through the eyes of the flesh. For insofar as the world is known to us at all, it is known through sight. But the four-syllable word "crediderunt" reaches us as a sound through the ear of the flesh, since sound is a corporeal thing. But its meaning cannot be discovered by any bodily sense, only by the reason of the mind. For unless we knew through the mind what the word "crediderunt" meant, we would not understand what they did not do, those of whom it is said, "And His own received Him not." The sound of the word rings upon the ears of the body from outside and reaches the sense called hearing. The form of man is both known to us in ourselves and is presented to the bodily senses from outside in other men: to the eyes when it is seen, to the ears when it is heard, to the touch when it is held and touched. It also has its image in our memory, incorporeal indeed but like the body. Finally, the wonderful beauty of the world itself is present from outside both to our gaze and to that sense called touch when we come in contact with any part of it. This also has its image within our memory, to which we return when we think of it either enclosed in a room or in darkness. But we have already spoken sufficiently in the eleventh book about these images of corporeal things, which are incorporeal yet have the likeness of bodies and belong to the life of the outer man. But we are now treating of the inner man and of his knowledge, namely that knowledge which concerns things temporal and changeable. When anything is taken up for the purpose and scope of this knowledge, even from things belonging to the outer man, it must be taken up so that something may be taught from it which helps rational knowledge. Therefore the rational use of those things which we have in common with irrational animals belongs to the inner man, nor can it rightly be said that this is common to us with the irrational animals.

4. In the words which follow next, The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through him might believe; the action, as we have said, is one done in time. For to bear witness even to that which is eternal, as is that light that is intelligible, is a thing done in time. And of this it was that John came to bear witness who was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light. For he adds That was the true Light that lights every man that comes into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not. Now they who know the Latin language, understand all these words, from those things which they know: and of these, some have become known to us through the senses of the body, as man, as the world itself, of which the greatness is so evident to our sight; as again the sounds of the words themselves, for hearing also is a sense of the body; and some through the reason of the mind, as that which is said, And His own received Him not; for this means, that they did not believe in Him; and what belief is, we do not know by any sense of the body, but by the reason of the mind. We have learned, too, not the sounds, but the meanings of the words themselves, partly through the sense of the body, partly through the reason of the mind. Nor have we now heard those words for the first time, but they are words we had heard before. And we were retaining in our memory as things known, and we here recognized, not only the words themselves, but also what they meant. For when the bisyllabic word mundus is uttered, then something that is certainly corporeal, for it is a sound, has become known through the body, that is, through the ear. But that which it means also, has become known through the body, that is, through the eyes of the flesh. For so far as the world is known to us at all, it is known through sight. But the quadri-syllabic word crediderunt reaches us, so far as its sound, since that is a corporeal thing, through the ear of the flesh; but its meaning is discoverable by no sense of the body, but by the reason of the mind. For unless we knew through the mind what the word crediderunt meant, we should not understand what they did not do, of whom it is said, And His own received Him not. The sound then of the word rings upon the ears of the body from without, and reaches the sense which is called hearing. The species also of man is both known to us in ourselves, and is presented to the senses of the body from without, in other men; to the eyes, when it is seen; to the ears, when it is heard; to the touch, when it is held and touched; and it has, too, its image in our memory, incorporeal indeed, but like the body. Lastly, the wonderful beauty of the world itself is at hand from without, both to our gaze, and to that sense which is called touch, if we come in contact with any of it: and this also has its image within in our memory, to which we revert, when we think of it either in the enclosure of a room, or again in darkness. But we have already sufficiently spoken in the eleventh book of these images of corporeal things; incorporeal indeed, yet having the likeness of bodies, and belonging to the life of the outer man. But we are treating now of the inner man, and of his knowledge, namely, that knowledge which is of things temporal and changeable; into the purpose and scope of which, when anything is assumed, even of things belonging to the outer man, it must be assumed for this end, that something may thence be taught which may help rational knowledge. And hence the rational use of those things which we have in common with irrational animals belongs to the inner man; neither can it rightly be said that this is common to us with the irrational animals.

Faith, which we must discuss at greater length in this book because of how we've arranged our subject, is what distinguishes the faithful from unbelievers—those who did not receive the Son of God when He came to His own people. Although faith comes to us through hearing, it does not belong to the bodily sense called hearing, since it is not a sound. It does not belong to the eyes of our flesh, since it is neither color nor bodily form. It does not belong to touch, since it has no physical substance. In fact, it does not belong to any bodily sense at all, since it is a thing of the heart, not of the body. It is not outside us but deeply within us. No one sees it in another person, but each person sees it only in himself. Finally, faith can be faked through pretense and can be thought to exist in someone who does not actually have it. Therefore, everyone sees his own faith in himself but does not see—rather, believes—that it exists in another. He believes this more firmly the more he recognizes the fruits that faith produces through love. This faith is common to all of whom the evangelist adds: "But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe in His name, which were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." It is common, I say, not in the way a bodily object's form is common to the eyes of all who see it—where somehow the gaze of all who look at it is shaped by the same single form—but rather as the human face can be said to be common to all humans. We say this even though each person certainly has his own face. We can say with complete truth that the faith of believers is impressed from one teaching upon the heart of each individual person who believes the same thing. But what is believed is different from the faith by which it is believed. What is believed concerns things that are said either to exist, to have existed, or to be going to exist. But faith itself is in the mind of the believer and is visible only to the one who possesses it. Although faith itself is not visible in others, a faith similar to it exists in them. It is not numerically one but one in kind. Yet because of the similarity and absence of any difference, we call it one rather than many. When we see two people who look remarkably alike, we marvel and say that both have one face. Likewise, it is easier to say that the souls were many—a separate soul for each person, of course—of whom we read in the Acts of the Apostles that they were of one soul, than it would be for anyone to dare say, where the apostle speaks of one faith, that there are as many faiths as there are faithful people. Yet He who says "O woman, great is your faith" and to another "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" indicates that each person has his own faith. But the similar faith of believers is called one in the same way that the similar will of those who will the same thing is called one. In the case of those who have the same will, each person's will is visible to himself but not to the other, even though they will the same thing. If one person's will reveals itself through any signs, it is believed rather than seen. But each person, being conscious of his own mind, certainly does not believe but clearly sees directly that this is his own will.

5. But faith, of which we are compelled, by reason of the arrangement of our subject, to dispute somewhat more at length in this book: faith I say, which they who have are called the faithful, and they who have not, unbelievers, as were those who did not receive the Son of God coming to His own; although it is wrought in us by hearing, yet does not belong to that sense of the body which is called hearing, since it is not a sound; nor to the eyes of this our flesh, since it is neither color nor bodily form; nor to that which is called touch, since it has nothing of bulk; nor to any sense of the body at all, since it is a thing of the heart, not of the body; nor is it without apart from us, but deeply seated within us; nor does any man see it in another, but each one in himself. Lastly, it is a thing that can both be feigned by pretence, and be thought to be in him in whom it is not. Therefore every one sees his own faith in himself; but does not see, but believes, that it is in another; and believes this the more firmly, the more he knows the fruits of it, which faith is wont to work by love. And therefore this faith is common to all of whom the evangelist subjoins, But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe in His name: which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God; common I say, not as any form of a bodily object is common, as regards sight, to the eyes of all to whom it is present, for in some way the gaze of all that behold it is informed by the same one form; but as the human countenance can be said to be common to all men; for this is so said that yet each certainly has his own. We say certainly with perfect truth, that the faith of believers is impressed from one doctrine upon the heart of each several person who believes the same thing. But that which is believed is a different thing from the faith by which it is believed. For the former is in things which are said either to be, or to have been or to be about to be; but the latter is in the mind of the believer, and is visible to him only whose it is; although not indeed itself but a faith like it, is also in others. For it is not one in number, but in kind; yet on account of the likeness, and the absence of all difference, we rather call it one than many. For when, too, we see two men exceedingly alike, we wonder, and say that both have one countenance. It is therefore more easily said that the souls were many — a several soul, of course, for each several person — of whom we read in the Acts of the Apostles, that they were of one soul, — than it is, where the apostle speaks of one faith, for any one to venture to say that there are as many faiths as there are faithful. And yet He who says, O woman, great is your faith; and to another, O you of little faith, wherefore did you doubt? intimates that each has his own faith. But the like faith of believers is said to be one, in the same way as a like will of those who will is said to be one; since in the case also of those who have the same will, the will of each is visible to himself, but that of the other is not visible, although he wills the same thing; and if it intimate itself by any signs, it is believed rather than seen. But each being conscious of his own mind certainly does not believe, but manifestly sees outright, that this is his own will.

There is such a closely harmonizing agreement in the same nature living and using reason that although one person does not know what another person wills, there are still some wills common to all which are also known to each individual. And although each person does not know what any other single person wills, yet in some matters he may know what everyone wills. This explains the story of the comic actor's clever joke. He promised that he would say in the theater, during some other play, what everyone had in their minds and what everyone willed. When an even larger crowd had gathered on the appointed day, filled with great expectation, everyone waiting in suspense and silence, he is said to have declared: You will to buy cheap and sell dear. Though he was merely an actor, everyone recognized in his words what they themselves were conscious of, and they applauded him with remarkable goodwill for saying publicly before everyone what was admittedly true, yet what no one had expected. And why was such great expectation raised by his promise to say what the will of all was, unless because no one knows the wills of other people? But did he not know that will? Is there anyone who does not know it? Yet why is this so, unless because there are some things which each person can reasonably infer to be in others from himself, through sympathy or agreement either in vice or virtue? But it is one thing to see one's own will; it is another thing to infer, however certainly, what another person's will is. For in human affairs, I am as certain that Rome was built as that Constantinople was, although I have seen Rome with my own eyes but know nothing of the other city except what I have believed on the testimony of others. And truly that comic actor believed it to be common to all to will to buy cheap and sell dear, either by observing himself or by testing it on others as well. But since such a will is in truth a fault, everyone can attain the opposing virtue, or fall into the mischief of some other fault which is contrary to it, by which to resist and conquer it. For I myself know of a case where a manuscript was offered to a man for purchase, who perceived that the seller was ignorant of its value and was therefore asking a very small price, and who then gave him, though he was not expecting it, the just price, which was much greater. Consider even the case of a man possessed by such great wickedness that he sells cheap what his parents left to him and buys dear in order to waste it on his own lusts. Such reckless extravagance, I think, is not unbelievable. If such men are sought, they may be found, or even encountered without being sought—men who, by a wickedness greater than that of the theater, mock the theatrical proposition or declaration by buying dishonor at a great price while selling lands at a small one. We have also heard of people who, for the sake of distribution, have bought grain at a higher price and sold it to their fellow citizens at a lower one. And notice also what the old poet Ennius has said: that all mortals wish themselves to be praised. In this, doubtless, he inferred what was in others both from himself and from those whom he knew by experience, and so seems to have declared what all people will. Finally, if that comic actor himself had also said, You all will to be praised, none of you wills to be abused, he would have seemed likewise to have expressed what all will. Yet there are some who hate their own faults and do not desire to be praised by others for that for which they are displeased with themselves, and who thank the kindness of those who rebuke them when the purpose of that rebuke is their own correction. But if he had said, You all will to be blessed, you do not will to be wretched, he would have said something which there is no one who would not recognize in his own will. For whatever else a person may will secretly, he does not withdraw from that will which is well known to all people and well known to be in all people.

6. There is, indeed, so closely conspiring a harmony in the same nature living and using reason, that although one knows not what the other wills, yet there are some wills of all which are also known to each; and although each man does not know what any other one man wills, yet in some things he may know what all will. And hence comes that story of the comic actor's witty joke, who promised that he would say in the theatre, in some other play, what all had in their minds, and what all willed; and when a still greater crowd had come together on the day appointed, with great expectation, all being in suspense and silent, is affirmed to have said: You will to buy cheap, and sell dear. And mean actor though he was, yet all in his words recognized what themselves were conscious of, and applauded him with wonderful goodwill, for saying before the eyes of all what was confessedly true, yet what no one looked for. And why was so great expectation raised by his promising that he would say what was the will of all, unless because no man knows the wills of other men? But did not he know that will? Is there any one who does not know it? Yet why, unless because there are some things which not unfitly each conjectures from himself to be in others, through sympathy or agreement either in vice or virtue? But it is one thing to see one's own will; another to conjecture, however certainly, what is another's. For, in human affairs, I am as certain that Rome was built as that Constantinople was, although I have seen Rome with my eyes, but know nothing of the other city, except what I have believed on the testimony of others. And truly that comic actor believed it to be common to all to will to buy cheap and sell dear, either by observing himself or by making experiment also of others. But since such a will is in truth a fault, every one can attain the counter virtue, or run into the mischief of some other fault which is contrary to it, whereby to resist and conquer it. For I myself know a case where a manuscript was offered to a man for purchase, who perceived that the vendor was ignorant of its value, and was therefore asking something very small, and who thereupon gave him, though not expecting it, the just price, which was much more. Suppose even the case of a man possessed with wickedness so great as to sell cheap what his parents left to him, and to buy dear, in order to waste it on his own lusts? Such wanton extravagance, I fancy, is not incredible; and if such men are sought, they may be found, or even fall in one's way although not sought; who, by a wickedness more than that of the theatre, make a mock of the theatrical proposition or declaration, by buying dishonor at a great price, while selling lands at a small one. We have heard, too, of persons that, for the sake of distribution, have bought grain at a higher price, and sold it to their fellow citizens at a lower one. And note also what the old poet Ennius has said: that all mortals wish themselves to be praised; wherein, doubtless, he conjectured what was in others, both by himself, and by those whom he knew by experience; and so seems to have declared what it is that all men will. Lastly, if that comic actor himself, too, had said, You all will to be praised, no one of you wills to be abused; he would have seemed in like manner to have expressed what all will. Yet there are some who hate their own faults, and do not desire to be praised by others for that for which they are displeased with themselves; and who thank the kindness of those who rebuke them, when the purpose of that rebuke is their own amendment. But if he had said, You all will to be blessed, you do not will to be wretched; he would have said something which there is no one that would not recognize in his own will. For whatever else a man may will secretly, he does not withdraw from that will, which is well known to all men, and well known to be in all men.

It is remarkable that while the desire to obtain and keep blessedness is the same in everyone, there exists such great variety and diversity of opinions about what blessedness actually is. It's not that anyone is unwilling to have it, but rather that not everyone knows what it is. If everyone knew it, some wouldn't think it consists in goodness of mind, others in bodily pleasure, others in both, with some placing it in one thing and others in another. People locate the blessed life in whatever they find particularly delightful. How then can everyone love so intensely something that not everyone knows? Who can love what he doesn't know? I've already addressed this question in the previous books. Why, then, is blessedness loved by everyone when it isn't known by everyone? Perhaps everyone knows what it is in itself, but not everyone knows where it is to be found, and this is where the disagreement comes from? It's as if we were talking about some location in this world where anyone who wants to live blessedly should want to live, and as if the question of where blessedness is found weren't part of the question of what it is. Certainly, if it's in bodily pleasure, then the person who enjoys bodily pleasure is blessed; if in goodness of mind, then the one who enjoys this is blessed; if in both, then the one who enjoys both. So when one person says that living blessedly means enjoying bodily pleasure, and another says it means enjoying goodness of mind, don't both either know or not know what the blessed life is? How then can both love it if no one can love what he doesn't know? Or is perhaps that assumption false which we took to be most true and certain, namely that all people want to live blessedly? For if living blessedly means, for example, living according to goodness of mind, how does someone who doesn't want this still want to live blessedly? Shouldn't we say more truthfully that such a person doesn't want to live blessedly, because he doesn't wish to live according to goodness, which alone is living blessedly? Therefore not all people want to live blessedly; on the contrary, few want it, if living blessedly is nothing other than living according to goodness of mind, which many don't want to do. Should we then consider false that statement which even the Academic Cicero himself didn't doubt (though Academics doubt everything)? When he wanted in his dialogue Hortensius to find some certain thing that no one doubted, from which to begin his argument, he says, "We certainly all want to be blessed." I certainly won't say this is false. But what then? Should we say that, although there is no other way of living blessedly than living according to goodness of mind, even someone who doesn't want this still wants to live blessedly? This indeed seems too absurd. It would be like saying, "Even someone who doesn't want to live blessedly wants to live blessedly." Who could listen to or tolerate such a contradiction? And yet logic forces us into this tight spot if it's both true that everyone wants to live blessedly and yet not everyone wants to live in the only way that one can live blessedly.

7. It is wonderful, however, since the will to obtain and retain blessedness is one in all, whence comes, on the other hand, such a variety and diversity of wills concerning that blessedness itself; not that any one is unwilling to have it, but that all do not know it. For if all knew it, it would not be thought by some to be in goodness of mind; by others, in pleasure of body; by others, in both; and by some in one thing, by others in another. For as men find special delight in this thing or that, so have they placed in it their idea of a blessed life. How, then, do all love so warmly what not all know? Who can love what he does not know?– a subject which I have already discussed in the preceding books. Why, therefore, is blessedness loved by all, when it is not known by all? Is it perhaps that all know what it is itself, but all do not know where it is to be found, and that the dispute arises from this?– as if, forsooth, the business was about some place in this world, where every one ought to will to live who wills to live blessedly; and as if the question where blessedness is were not implied in the question what it is. For certainly, if it is in the pleasure of the body, he is blessed who enjoys the pleasure of the body; if in goodness of mind, he has it who enjoys this; if in both, he who enjoys both. When, therefore, one says, to live blessedly is to enjoy the pleasure of the body; but another, to live blessedly is to enjoy goodness of mind; is it not, that either both know, or both do not know, what a blessed life is? How, then, do both love it, if no one can love what he does not know? Or is that perhaps false which we have assumed to be most true and most certain, viz. that all men will to live blessedly? For if to live blessedly is, for argument's sake, to live according to goodness of mind, how does he will to live blessedly who does not will this? Should we not say more truly, That man does not will to live blessedly, because he does not wish to live according to goodness, which alone is to live blessedly? Therefore all men do not will to live blessedly; on the contrary, few wish it; if to live blessedly is nothing else but to live according to goodness of mind, which many do not will to do. Shall we, then, hold that to be false of which the Academic Cicero himself did not doubt (although Academics doubt every thing), who, when he wanted in the dialogue Hortensius to find some certain thing, of which no one doubted, from which to start his argument, says, We certainly all will to be blessed? Far be it from me to say this is false. But what then? Are we to say that, although there is no other way of living blessedly than living according to goodness of mind, yet even he who does not will this, wills to live blessedly? This, indeed, seems too absurd. For it is much as if we should say, Even he who does not will to live blessedly, wills to live blessedly. Who could listen to, who could endure, such a contradiction? And yet necessity thrusts us into this strait, if it is both true that all will to live blessedly, and yet all do not will to live in that way in which alone one can live blessedly.

Or perhaps the solution to our problem is this: since we have said that everyone places his idea of a blessed life in whatever has pleased him most—as pleasure pleased Epicurus, and goodness pleased Zeno, and something else pleased other people—we might say that to live blessedly is nothing other than to live according to one's own pleasure, so that it is not false that all people will to live blessedly, because all will whatever pleases each person. If this too had been announced to the people in the theatre, all would have found it in their own wills. But when Cicero also proposed this as an objection to himself, he refuted it in such a way as to make those who thought this blush with shame. For he says: But look, people who are not philosophers, but who are nevertheless ready to argue, say that all are blessed whoever live as they will—which is what we mean by "as pleases each." But shortly afterward he added: But this is indeed false. For to will what is not fitting is itself most miserable; nor is it so miserable not to obtain what one wills, as to will to obtain what one ought not. He speaks most excellently and altogether most truly. For who can be so blind in his mind, so alienated from all light of decency, and wrapped up in the darkness of indecency, as to call someone blessed because he lives as he wills, who lives wickedly and disgracefully; and with no one restraining him, no one punishing, and no one even daring to blame him—indeed, with most people even praising him, since, as divine Scripture says, "The wicked is praised in his heart's desire, and he who works iniquity is blessed"—gratifies all his most criminal and flagitious desires? Surely, although even so he would be wretched, yet he would be less wretched if he could have had none of those things which he had wrongly willed. For everyone is made wretched by a wicked will alone, even if it remains only a will; but he is made more wretched by the power through which the longing of a wicked will is fulfilled. And therefore, since it is true that all people will to be blessed, and that they seek this one thing with the most ardent love, and for the sake of this seek everything else which they seek; nor can anyone love that of which he knows nothing at all, what it is or what sort it is, nor can he be ignorant of what that is which he knows he wills; it follows that all people know a blessed life. But all who are blessed have what they will, although not all who have what they will are therefore blessed. But those are immediately wretched who either do not have what they will, or have what they do not rightly will. Therefore he alone is a blessed man who both has all things which he wills and wills nothing ill.

8. Or is, perhaps, the deliverance from our difficulties to be found in this, that, since we have said that every one places his idea of a blessed life in that which has most pleased him, as pleasure pleased Epicurus, and goodness Zeno, and something else pleased other people, we say that to live blessedly is nothing else but to live according to one's own pleasure: so that it is not false that all will to live blessedly, because all will that which pleases each? For if this, too, had been proclaimed to the people in the theatre, all would have found it in their own wills. But when Cicero, too, had propounded this in opposition to himself, he so refuted it as to make them blush who thought so. For he says: But, behold! people who are not indeed philosophers, but who yet are prompt to dispute, say that all are blessed, whoever live as they will; which is what we mean by, as pleases each. But by and by he has subjoined: But this is indeed false. For to will what is not fitting, is itself most miserable; neither is it so miserable not to obtain what one wills, as to will to obtain what one ought not. Most excellently and altogether most truly does he speak. For who can be so blind in his mind, so alienated from all light of decency, and wrapped up in the darkness of indecency, as to call him blessed, because he lives as he will, who lives wickedly and disgracefully; and with no one restraining him, no one punishing, and no one daring even to blame him, nay more, too, with most people praising him, since, as divine Scripture says, The wicked is praised in his heart's desire: and he who works iniquity is blessed, gratifies all his most criminal and flagitious desires; when, doubtless, although even so he would be wretched, yet he would be less wretched, if he could have had nothing of those things which he had wrongly willed? For every one is made wretched by a wicked will also, even though it stop short with will but more wretched by the power by which the longing of a wicked will is fulfilled. And, therefore, since it is true that all men will to be blessed, and that they seek for this one thing with the most ardent love, and on account of this seek everything which they do seek; nor can any one love that of which he does not know at all what or of what sort it is, nor can be ignorant what that is which he knows that he wills; it follows that all know a blessed life. But all that are blessed have what they will, although not all who have what they will are forewith blessed. But they are forewith wretched, who either have not what they will, or have that which they do not rightly will. Therefore he only is a blessed man, who both has all things which he wills, and wills nothing ill.

Since a blessed life consists of these two things and is known and loved by everyone, what can we think is the reason why people, when they cannot have both, choose to have all things that they want rather than to want all things rightly, even if they do not have them? Is it the corruption of the human race itself, such that even though people are aware that neither the person who does not have what he wants nor the person who has what he wrongly wants is blessed, but only the person who both has whatever good things he wants and wants no evil things—yet when both parts of what makes up the blessed life are not available, they choose the one that withdraws them further from a blessed life? For certainly the person who obtains things he wickedly desired is further from blessedness than the person who simply does not obtain the things he desired. The good will ought instead to be chosen and preferred, even if it does not obtain the things it seeks. For the person who rightly wills whatever he wills and wills things that will make him blessed when he obtains them comes near to being a blessed man. And certainly it is not bad things but good things that make people blessed, when they do make them blessed. And the person who longs to rejoice in those good things of which human nature is capable, and not in the performance or attainment of any evil, and who diligently pursues and attains as much as he can with a prudent, temperate, courageous, and right mind such good things as are possible in the present miserable life—he already has something good, and indeed something not to be lightly esteemed: namely, the very good will itself. Such a person is good even in the midst of evils, and when all evils have been ended and all good things fulfilled, he will then be blessed.

9. Since, then, a blessed life consists of these two things, and is known to all, and dear to all; what can we think to be the cause why, when they cannot have both, men choose, out of these two, to have all things that they will, rather than to will all things well, even although they do not have them? Is it the depravity itself of the human race, in such wise that, while they are not unaware that neither is he blessed who has not what he wills, nor he who has what he wills wrongly, but he who both has whatsoever good things he wills, and wills no evil ones, yet, when both are not granted of those two things in which the blessed life consists, that is rather chosen by which one is withdrawn the more from a blessed life (since he certainly is further from it who obtains things which he wickedly desired, than he who only does not obtain the things which he desired); whereas the good will ought rather to be chosen, and to be preferred, even if it do not obtain the things which it seeks? For he comes near to being a blessed man, who wills well whatsoever he wills, and wills things, which when he obtains, he will be blessed. And certainly not bad things, but good, make men blessed, when they do so make them. And of good things he already has something, and that, too, a something not to be lightly esteemed — namely, the very good will itself; who longs to rejoice in those good things of which human nature is capable, and not in the performance or the attainment of any evil; and who follows diligently, and attains as much as he can, with a prudent, temperate, courageous, and right mind, such good things as are possible in the present miserable life; so as to be good even in evils, and when all evils have been put an end to, and all good things fulfilled, then to be blessed.

On this account, faith by which people believe in God is above all things necessary in this mortal life, which is filled with errors and hardships. There are no good things whatsoever, and especially not those by which anyone is made good or by which he will become blessed, that can be found coming to man or being added to man from any other source except God. But when someone who is good and faithful in these miseries passes from this life to the blessed life, then what is now absolutely impossible will truly come to pass: that a person may live as he wills. For he will not will to live badly in the midst of that felicity, nor will he will anything that will be lacking, nor will anything be lacking that he has willed. Whatever is loved will be present, nor will that be longed for which is not present. Everything that will be there will be good, and the supreme God will be the supreme good and will be present for those who love Him to enjoy. What is altogether most blessed is that it will be certain that it will be so forever. But now, indeed, philosophers have made for themselves, according to each one's pleasure, their own ideals of a blessed life, so that they might be able, as if by their own power, to do what they were not able to do by the common conditions of mortals: namely, to live as they would. For they felt that no one could be blessed except by having what he would and by suffering nothing that he would not. And who would not will that whatever life delights him, and which he therefore calls blessed, were so in his own power that he could have it continually? And yet who is in this condition? Who wills to suffer troubles in order that he may endure them manfully, although he both wills and is able to endure them if he does suffer them? Who would will to live in torments, even though he is able to live laudably by holding fast to righteousness in the midst of them through patience? Those who have endured these evils, either in wishing to have or in fearing to lose what they loved, whether wickedly or laudably, have thought of them as transitory. For many have stretched boldly through transitory evils to good things which will last. And these, doubtless, are blessed through hope, even while actually suffering such transitory evils, through which they arrive at good things which will not be transitory. But he who is blessed through hope is not yet blessed, for he expects through patience a blessedness which he does not yet grasp. Whereas he, on the other hand, who is tormented without any such hope, without any such reward, may use as much endurance as he pleases, but is not truly blessed, only bravely miserable. For he is not thereby not miserable, because he would be more so if he also bore misery impatiently. Further, even if he does not suffer those things which he would not will to suffer in his own body, not even then is he to be esteemed blessed, inasmuch as he does not live as he wills. For to omit other things which, while the body remains unhurt, belong to those annoyances of the mind without which we should will to live, and which are innumerable, he would will, at any rate, if he were able, so to have his body safe and sound, and so to suffer no inconveniences from it, as to have it within his own control, or even to have it with an imperishableness of the body itself. And because he does not possess this, and hangs in doubt about it, he certainly does not live as he wills. For although he may be ready from fortitude to accept and bear with an equal mind whatever adversities may happen to him, yet he had rather they should not happen, and prevents them if he is able. And he is ready for both alternatives in such a way that, as much as is in him, he wishes for the one and shuns the other. And if he has fallen into that which he shuns, he therefore bears it willingly because that could not happen which he willed. He bears it, therefore, in order that he may not be crushed, but he would not willingly be even burdened. How, then, does he live as he wills? Is it because he is willingly strong to bear what he would not will to be put upon him? Then he only wills what he can, because he cannot have what he wills. And here is the sum total of the blessedness of proud mortals, I know not whether to be laughed at, or rather to be pitied, who boast that they live as they will because they willingly bear patiently what they are unwilling should happen to them. For this, they say, is like Terence's wise saying–

10. And on this account, faith, by which men believe in God, is above all things necessary in this mortal life, most full as it is of errors and hardships. For there are no good things whatever, and above all, not those by which any one is made good, or those by which he will become blessed, of which any other source can be found whence they come to man, and are added to man, unless it be from God. But when he who is good and faithful in these miseries shall have come from this life to the blessed life, then will truly come to pass what now is absolutely impossible — namely, that a man may live as he will. For he will not will to live badly in the midst of that felicity, nor will he will anything that will be wanting, nor will there be wanting anything which he shall have willed. Whatever shall be loved, will be present; nor will that be longed for, which shall not be present. Everything which will be there will be good, and the supreme God will be the supreme good and will be present for those to enjoy who love Him; and what altogether is most blessed, it will be certain that it will be so forever. But now, indeed, philosophers have made for themselves, according to the pleasure of each, their own ideals of a blessed life; that they might be able, as it were by their own power, to do that, which by the common conditions of mortals they were not able to do — namely, to live as they would. For they felt that no one could be blessed otherwise than by having what he would, and by suffering nothing which he would not. And who would not will, that the life whatsoever it be, with which he is delighted, and which he therefore calls blessed, were so in his own power, that he could have it continually? And yet who is in this condition? Who wills to suffer troubles in order that he may endure them manfully, although he both wills and is able to endure them if he does suffer them? Who would will to live in torments, even although he is able to live laudably by holding fast to righteousness in the midst of them through patience? They who have endured these evils, either in wishing to have or in fearing to lose what they loved, whether wickedly or laudably, have thought of them as transitory. For many have stretched boldly through transitory evils to good things which will last. And these, doubtless, are blessed through hope, even while actually suffering such transitory evils, through which they arrive at good things which will not be transitory. But he who is blessed through hope is not yet blessed: for he expects, through patience, a blessedness which he does not yet grasp. Whereas he, on the other hand, who is tormented without any such hope, without any such reward, let him use as much endurance as he pleases, is not truly blessed, but bravely miserable. For he is not on that account not miserable, because he would be more so if he also bore misery impatiently. Further, even if he does not suffer those things which he would not will to suffer in his own body, not even then is he to be esteemed blessed, inasmuch as he does not live as he wills. For to omit other things, which, while the body remains unhurt, belong to those annoyances of the mind, without which we should will to live, and which are innumerable; he would will, at any rate, if he were able, so to have his body safe and sound, and so to suffer no inconveniences from it, as to have it within his own control, or even to have it with an imperishableness of the body itself; and because he does not possess this, and hangs in doubt about it, he certainly does not live as he wills. For although he may be ready from fortitude to accept, and bear with an equal mind, whatever adversities may happen to him, yet he had rather they should not happen, and prevents them if he is able; and he is in such way ready for both alternatives, that, as much as is in him, he wishes for the one and shuns the other; and if he have fallen into that which he shuns, he therefore bears it willingly, because that could not happen which he willed. He bears it, therefore, in order that he may not be crushed; but he would not willingly be even burdened. How, then, does he live as he wills? Is it because he is willingly strong to bear what he would not will to be put upon him? Then he only wills what he can, because he cannot have what he wills. And here is the sum-total of the blessedness of proud mortals, I know not whether to be laughed at, or not rather to be pitied, who boast that they live as they will, because they willingly bear patiently what they are unwilling should happen to them. For this, they say, is like Terence's wise saying —

Since that cannot be which you will, will that which you can.

Since that cannot be which you will, will that which you can.

This advice is sound—who would deny it? But it's given to someone who is miserable, so that they won't become even more miserable. However, it doesn't rightly or truly apply to the blessed person, which everyone wishes to be. For if someone is blessed, whatever they will can be, since they do not will what cannot be. But such a life doesn't belong to this mortal condition, nor will it come about unless immortality also comes about. And if immortality could not be given to man at all, then blessedness too would be sought in vain, since it cannot exist without immortality.

That this is aptly said, who denies? But it is advice given to the miserable man, that he may not be more miserable. And it is not rightly or truly said to the blessed man, such as all wish themselves to be, That cannot be which you will. For if he is blessed, whatever he wills can be; since he does not will that which cannot be. But such a life is not for this mortal state, neither will it come to pass unless when immortality also shall come to pass. And if this could not be given at all to man, blessedness too would be sought in vain, since it cannot be without immortality.

Since all people want to be blessed, if they truly want this, they must also want to be immortal. Otherwise they could not be blessed. Furthermore, if you ask them about immortality, just as you asked about blessedness, everyone says they want it. But whatever kind of blessedness people seek in this life—which is not really blessedness but only called that—is something made up, while immortality is considered impossible, though true blessedness cannot exist without it. A person lives blessedly, as we have already said and sufficiently proven, when he lives as he wants and wants nothing wrong. No one wrongly wants immortality if human nature is capable of it by God's gift. And if human nature is not capable of it, then it is not capable of blessedness either. For a person to live blessedly, he must necessarily live. And if life leaves him through death, how can a blessed life remain with him? When it leaves him, it certainly leaves him either unwillingly, willingly, or neither. If unwillingly, how can that life be blessed which depends on his will but not on his power? And since no one is blessed who wants something he does not have, how much less blessed is someone who loses against his will—not honor, possessions, or anything else, but the blessed life itself, since he will have no life at all? Therefore, although no feeling remains for his life to be miserable (because the blessed life leaves him when life itself leaves him completely), yet he is wretched as long as he can feel, because he knows that what he loves more than everything else, and for the sake of which he loves everything else, is being destroyed against his will. So a life cannot be both blessed and leave a person against his will, since no one becomes blessed against his will. How much more does life make a person miserable by leaving him against his will, when it would make him miserable if he had it against his will? But if it leaves him with his consent, how could that be a blessed life when the person who had it wanted it to perish? The only remaining option is to say that the blessed person has neither of these attitudes—that he is neither unwilling nor willing to have the blessed life leave him when death takes away his life completely, but that he stands firm with an even heart, prepared equally for either outcome. But that is not a blessed life if it is unworthy of being loved by the person it makes blessed. For how can that be a blessed life if the blessed person does not love it? Or how can something be loved if a person receives it indifferently, not caring whether it flourishes or perishes? Unless perhaps the virtues, which we love only for the sake of blessedness, dare to persuade us that we should not love blessedness itself. But if they did that, we would certainly stop loving the virtues themselves, since we would not love the thing for which alone we loved them. Furthermore, how can that well-tested, examined, thoroughly scrutinized, and certain opinion be true—that all people want to be blessed—if those who are already blessed neither want nor don't want to be blessed? Or if they do want it, as truth proclaims and nature demands (in which the supremely good and unchangeably blessed Creator has planted that desire), if blessed people want to be blessed, then certainly they do not want to be not blessed. And if they do not want to be not blessed, then without doubt they do not want to be destroyed and perish with respect to their blessedness. But they cannot be blessed unless they are alive. Therefore they do not want to perish with respect to their life. Therefore, whoever are either truly blessed or desire to be so want to be immortal. But a person does not live blessedly if he does not have what he wants. Therefore it follows that life cannot in any way be truly blessed unless it is eternal.

11. As, therefore, all men will to be blessed, certainly, if they will truly, they will also to be immortal; for otherwise they could not be blessed. And further, if questioned also concerning immortality, as before concerning blessedness, all reply that they will it. But blessedness of what quality soever, such as is not so, but rather is so called, is sought, nay indeed is feigned in this life, while immortality is despaired of, without which true blessedness cannot be. Since he lives blessedly, as we have already said before, and have sufficiently proved and concluded, who lives as he wills, and wills nothing wrongly. But no one wrongly wills immortality, if human nature is by God's gift capable of it; and if it is not capable of it, it is not capable of blessedness. For, that a man may live blessedly, he must needs live. And if life quits him by his dying, how can a blessed life remain with him? And when it quits him, without doubt it either quits him unwilling, or willing, or neither. If unwilling, how is the life blessed which is so within his will as not to be within his power? And whereas no one is blessed who wills something that he does not have, how much less is he blessed who is quitted against his will, not by honor, nor by possessions, nor by any other thing, but by the blessed life itself, since he will have no life at all? And hence, although no feeling is left for his life to be thereby miserable (for the blessed life quits him, because life altogether quits him), yet he is wretched as long as he feels, because he knows that against his will that is being destroyed for the sake of which he loves all else, and which he loves beyond all else. A life therefore cannot both be blessed, and yet quit a man against his will, since no one becomes blessed against his will; and hence how much more does it make a man miserable by quitting him against his will, when it would make him miserable if he had it against his will! But if it quit him with his will, even so how was that a blessed life, which he who had it willed should perish? It remains then for them to say, that neither of these is in the mind of the blessed man; that is, that he is neither unwilling nor willing to be quitted by a blessed life, when through death life quits him altogether; for that he stands firm with an even heart, prepared alike for either alternative. But neither is that a blessed life which is such as to be unworthy of his love whom it makes blessed. For how is that a blessed life which the blessed man does not love? Or how is that loved, of which it is received indifferently, whether it is to flourish or to perish? Unless perhaps the virtues, which we love in this way on account of blessedness alone, venture to persuade us that we do not love blessedness itself. Yet if they did this, we should certainly leave off loving the virtues themselves, when we do not love that on account of which alone we loved them. And further, how will that opinion be true, which has been so tried, and sifted, and thoroughly strained, and is so certain, viz. that all men will to be blessed, if they themselves who are already blessed neither will nor do not will to be blessed? Or if they will it, as truth proclaims, as nature constrains, in which indeed the supremely good and unchangeably blessed Creator has implanted that will: if, I say, they will to be blessed who are blessed, certainly they do not will to be not blessed. But if they do not will not to be blessed, without doubt they do not will to be annihilated and perish in regard to their blessedness. But they cannot be blessed except they are alive; therefore they do not will so to perish in regard to their life. Therefore, whoever are either truly blessed or desire to be so, will to be immortal. But he does not live blessedly who has not that which he wills. Therefore it follows that in no way can life be truly blessed unless it be eternal.

Whether human nature can receive this blessing, which it admits is desirable, is no small question. But if faith is present—the faith that belongs to those to whom Jesus has given the power to become the sons of God—then there is no question. Certainly, among those who try to discover this through human reasoning, scarcely a few have been able to investigate even the immortality of the soul alone, and these are people gifted with great abilities, abundant leisure, and trained in the most subtle learning. And even for the soul, they have not found a blessed life that is stable—that is, true—since they have said that the soul returns to the miseries of this life even after blessedness. Those among them who are ashamed of this view and have believed that the purified soul will be placed in eternal happiness without a body hold such opinions about the past eternity of the world that their own opinion about the soul is refuted. It would take too long to demonstrate this here, but I think I have explained it sufficiently in the twelfth book of the City of God. But faith promises, not through human reasoning but by divine authority, that the whole man, who certainly consists of soul and body, will be immortal and for this reason truly blessed. And so, when it was said in the Gospel that Jesus has given power to become the sons of God to those who received Him, and what it means to have received Him was briefly explained by saying, "to those who believe in His name," and it was further added in what way they are to become sons of God—namely, "who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God"—lest that human weakness which we all see and bear should despair of attaining such great excellence, it is added in the same place, "And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us." This was added so that, on the contrary, people might be convinced of what seemed incredible. For if He who is by nature the Son of God was made the Son of man through mercy for the sake of the sons of men—for this is what is meant by "The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us men"—how much more credible is it that the sons of men by nature should be made the sons of God by the grace of God, and should dwell in God, in whom alone and from whom alone the blessed can be made partakers of that immortality? That we might be convinced of this, the Son of God was made a partaker of our mortality.

12. Whether human nature can receive this, which yet it confesses to be desirable, is no small question. But if faith be present, which is in those to whom Jesus has given power to become the sons of God, then there is no question. Assuredly, of those who endeavor to discover it from human reasonings, scarcely a few, and they endued with great abilities, and abounding in leisure, and learned with the most subtle learning, have been able to attain to the investigation of the immortality of the soul alone. And even for the soul they have not found a blessed life that is stable, that is, true; since they have said that it returns to the miseries of this life even after blessedness. And they among them who are ashamed of this opinion, and have thought that the purified soul is to be placed in eternal happiness without a body, hold such opinions concerning the past eternity of the world, as to confute this opinion of theirs concerning the soul; a thing which here it is too long to demonstrate; but it has been, as I think, sufficiently explained by us in the twelfth book of the City of God. But that faith promises, not by human reasoning, but by divine authority, that the whole man, who certainly consists of soul and body, shall be immortal, and on this account truly blessed. And so, when it had been said in the Gospel, that Jesus has given power to become the sons of God to them who received Him; and what it is to have received Him had been shortly explained by saying, To them that believe in His name; and it was further added in what way they are to become sons of God, viz., Which were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God; — lest that infirmity of men which we all see and bear should despair of attaining so great excellence, it is added in the same place, And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us; that, on the contrary, men might be convinced of that which seemed incredible. For if He who is by nature the Son of God was made the Son of man through mercy for the sake of the sons of men — for this is what is meant by The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us men, — how much more credible is it that the sons of men by nature should be made the sons of God by the grace of God, and should dwell in God, in whom alone and from whom alone the blessed can be made partakers of that immortality; of which that we might be convinced, the Son of God was made partaker of our mortality?

Those who ask, "Didn't God have any other way to free people from the misery of mortality besides willing that his only-begotten Son, God co-eternal with himself, should become human by taking on a human soul and flesh, and being made mortal to endure death?"—these people cannot be refuted simply by asserting that the way God chose to free us through the Mediator between God and humanity, the man Christ Jesus, is good and fitting for God's dignity. We must also show not that no other way was possible for God, since all things are equally subject to his power, but that there was not and need not have been any other way more appropriate for healing our misery. For what was so necessary for building up our hope and for freeing the minds of mortals, cast down by the very condition of mortality itself, from despair of immortality, than that it should be demonstrated to us at how high a price God valued us and how greatly he loved us? But what is more clear and evident as proof of this than that the Son of God, unchangeably good, remaining what he was in himself and receiving from us and for us what he was not, without any loss of his own nature, and choosing to enter into fellowship with our nature, should first, without any evil deserving of his own, bear our evils, and then with unobligated generosity bestow his own gifts upon us—we who now believe how much God loves us and who now hope for that of which we used to despair, without any good deserving of our own and even with our evil deserving going before?

13. Those then who say, What, had God no other way by which He might free men from the misery of this mortality, that He should will the only-begotten Son, God co-eternal with Himself, to become man, by putting on a human soul and flesh, and being made mortal to endure death?– these, I say, it is not enough so to refute, as to assert that that mode by which God deigns to free us through the Mediator of God and men, the man Christ Jesus, is good and suitable to the dignity of God; but we must show also, not indeed that no other mode was possible to God, to whose power all things are equally subject, but that there neither was nor need have been any other mode more appropriate for curing our misery. For what was so necessary for the building up of our hope, and for the freeing the minds of mortals cast down by the condition of mortality itself, from despair of immortality, than that it should be demonstrated to us at how great a price God rated us, and how greatly He loved us? But what is more manifest and evident in this so great proof hereof, than that the Son of God, unchangeably good, remaining what He was in Himself, and receiving from us and for us what He was not, apart from any loss of His own nature, and deigning to enter into the fellowship of ours, should first, without any evil desert of His own, bear our evils; and so with unobligated munificence should bestow His own gifts upon us, who now believe how much God loves us, and who now hope that of which we used to despair, without any good deserts of our own, nay, with our evil deserts too going before?

Even what we call our own merits are actually God's gifts to us. For in order that faith may work through love, God's love is poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit who is given to us. The Spirit was given when Jesus was glorified by the resurrection. At that time Jesus promised that He Himself would send the Spirit, and He did send Him, because then, as Scripture had written and foretold about Him, He ascended on high, led captivity captive, and gave gifts to people. These gifts make up our merits, through which we reach the highest good of immortal blessedness. But as the apostle says, God demonstrates His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. He continues: Much more then, having now been justified by His blood, we will be saved from wrath through Him. He then adds to this: For if when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son, much more, having been reconciled, we will be saved by His life. Those he first calls sinners he later calls enemies of God, and those he first describes as justified by His blood he later describes as reconciled by the death of God's Son, and those he first says will be saved from wrath through Him he later says will be saved by His life. Therefore before receiving that grace, we were not just sinners in some casual way, but we were in such sin that we were enemies of God. The same apostle refers to us repeatedly by two names: sinners and enemies of God—one seeming quite mild, the other clearly very harsh—saying, For if while we were still weak, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. Those he called weak are the same ones he called ungodly. Weakness seems like something minor, but sometimes it is so serious as to be called ungodliness. Yet unless it were weakness, it would not need a physician, who in Hebrew is called Jesus, in Greek Soter, but in our language Savior. Latin did not have this word before, but it could have it since it was able to have it when it needed it. This earlier statement of the apostle where he says, For while we were still weak, in due time He died for the ungodly, connects with those two following statements, in one of which he spoke of sinners and in the other of enemies of God, as if he matched each one to each—that is, matching sinners to the weak, and enemies of God to the ungodly.

14. Since those also which are called our deserts, are His gifts. For, that faith may work by love, the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us. And He was then given, when Jesus was glorified by the resurrection. For then He promised that He Himself would send Him, and He sent Him; because then, as it was written and foretold of Him, He ascended up on high, He led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men. These gifts constitute our deserts, by which we arrive at the chief good of an immortal blessedness. But God, says the apostle, commends His love towards as, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more, then, being now justified by His blood, we shall be saved from wrath through Him. To this he goes on to add, For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son; much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by His life. Those whom he first calls sinners he afterwards calls the enemies of God; and those whom he first speaks of as justified by His blood, he afterwards speaks of as reconciled by the death of the Son of God; and those whom he speaks of first as saved from wrath through Him, he afterwards speaks of as saved by His life. We were not, therefore, before that grace merely anyhow sinners, but in such sins that we were enemies of God. But the same apostle calls us above several times by two appellations, viz. sinners and enemies of God — one as if the most mild, the other plainly the most harsh — saying, For if when we were yet weak, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. Those whom he called weak, the same he called ungodly. Weakness seems something slight; but sometimes it is such as to be called impiety. Yet except it were weakness, it would not need a physician, who is in the Hebrew Jesus, in the Greek Σωτήρ, but in our speech Saviour. And this word the Latin language had not previously, but could have seeing that it could have it when it wanted it. And this foregoing sentence of the apostle, where he says, For when we were yet weak, in due time He died for the ungodly, coheres with those two following sentences; in the one of which he spoke of sinners, in the other of enemies of God, as though he referred each severally to each, viz. sinners to the weak, the enemies of God to the ungodly.

But what does it mean to be justified in His blood? What power exists in this blood, I ask you, that those who believe should be justified in it? And what does it mean to be reconciled by the death of His Son? Was it really the case that when God the Father was angry with us, He saw the death of His Son on our behalf and was appeased toward us? Was His Son already so appeased toward us that He even chose to die for us, while the Father was still so angry that unless His Son died for us, He would not be appeased? And what about what this same teacher of the Gentiles says in another place: What shall we then say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all—how will He not with Him also freely give us all things? Tell me, unless the Father had already been appeased, would He have delivered up His own Son, not sparing Him for us? Doesn't this opinion seem to contradict the other? In one view, the Son dies for us and the Father is reconciled to us by His death; in the other, as if the Father first loved us, He Himself does not spare the Son on our account, He Himself delivers Him up to death for us. But I see that the Father loved us even before—not only before the Son died for us, but before He created the world. The apostle himself witnesses to this when he says, According as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world. Nor was the Son delivered up for us unwillingly, with the Father not sparing Him; for it is also said concerning Him, Who loved me and delivered up Himself for me. Therefore the Father and the Son and the Spirit of both work all things together equally and harmoniously; yet we are justified in the blood of Christ, and we are reconciled to God by the death of His Son. And I will explain, as I am able, how this was accomplished, as much as may seem sufficient.

15. But what is meant by justified in His blood? What power is there in this blood, I beseech you, that they who believe should be justified in it? And what is meant by being reconciled by the death of His Son? Was it indeed so, that when God the Father was angry with us, He saw the death of His Son for us, and was appeased towards us? Was then His Son already so far appeased towards us, that He even deigned to die for us; while the Father was still so far angry, that except His Son died for us, He would not be appeased? And what, then, is that which the same teacher of the Gentiles himself says in another place: What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us? He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all; how has He not with Him also freely given us all things? Pray, unless the Father had been already appeased, would He have delivered up His own Son, not sparing Him for us? Does not this opinion seem to be as it were contrary to that? In the one, the Son dies for us, and the Father is reconciled to us by His death; in the other, as though the Father first loved us, He Himself on our account does not spare the Son, He Himself for us delivers Him up to death. But I see that the Father loved us also before, not only before the Son died for us, but before He created the world; the apostle himself being witness, who says, According as He has chosen us in Him before the foundation of the world. Nor was the Son delivered up for us as it were unwillingly, the Father Himself not sparing Him; for it is said also concerning Him, Who loved me, and delivered up Himself for me. Therefore together both the Father and the Son, and the Spirit of both, work all things equally and harmoniously; yet we are justified in the blood of Christ, and we are reconciled to God by the death of His Son. And I will explain, as I shall be able, here also, how this was done, as much as may seem sufficient.

By God's justice in a certain sense, the human race was handed over to the power of the devil. The sin of the first man passes over originally into all people of both sexes at their birth through conjugal union, and the debt of our first parents binds their entire posterity. This handing over is first indicated in Genesis, where after it was said to the serpent, "Dust shall you eat," it was said to the man, "Dust you are, and to dust you shall return." In the words "To dust you shall return," the death of the body is announced in advance, because man would not have experienced that either if he had remained upright as he was made until the end. But in that it is said to him while he is still living, "Dust you are," it is shown that the whole man was changed for the worse. For "Dust you are" is much the same as "My spirit shall not always remain in these men, for they also are flesh." Therefore it was shown at that time that he was delivered to him, in that it had been said to him, "Dust shall you eat." But the apostle declares this more clearly where he says: "And you who were dead in trespasses and sins, in which you once walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now works in the children of unfaithfulness; among whom we also once lived in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind; and were by physis the children of wrath, even as others." The children of unfaithfulness are the unbelievers, and who is not this before he becomes a believer? And therefore all people are originally under the prince of the power of the air, who works in the children of unfaithfulness. And what I have expressed by "originally" is the same that the apostle expresses when he speaks of themselves who by physis were as others—that is, by physis as it has been corrupted by sin, not as it was created upright from the beginning. But the way in which man was thus delivered into the power of the devil ought not to be understood as if God did this or commanded it to be done, but that He only permitted it, yet justly. For when He abandoned the sinner, the author of the sin immediately entered. Yet God did not abandon His own creature in such a way as not to show Himself to him as God creating and giving life, and among penal evils also bestowing many good things upon the evil. For He has not in anger shut up His tender mercies. Nor did He remove man from the law of His own power when He permitted him to be in the power of the devil, since even the devil himself is not separated from the power of the Omnipotent, nor from His goodness either. For how else do even the evil angels continue to exist in whatever manner of life they have, except through Him who gives life to all things? If, therefore, the committing of sins through the just anger of God subjected man to the devil, doubtless the forgiveness of sins through the merciful reconciliation of God rescues man from the devil.

16. By the justice of God in some sense, the human race was delivered into the power of the devil; the sin of the first man passing over originally into all of both sexes in their birth through conjugal union, and the debt of our first parents binding their whole posterity. This delivering up is first signified in Genesis, where, when it had been said to the serpent, Dust shall you eat, it was said to the man, Dust you are, and unto dust you shall return. In the words, Unto dust shall you return, the death of the body is fore-announced, because he would not have experienced that either, if he had continued to the end upright as he was made; but in that it is said to him while still living, Dust you are, it is shown that the whole man was changed for the worse. For Dust you are is much the same as, My spirit shall not always remain in these men, for that they also are flesh. Therefore it was at that time shown, that he was delivered to him, in that it had been said to him, Dust shall you eat. But the apostle declares this more clearly, where he says: And you who were dead in trespasses and sins, wherein in time past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now works in the children of unfaithfulness; among whom we also had our conversation in times past, in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind; and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others. The children of unfaithfulness are the unbelievers; and who is not this before he becomes a believer? And therefore all men are originally under the prince of the power of the air, who works in the children of unfaithfulness. And that which I have expressed by originally is the same that the apostle expresses when he speaks of themselves who by nature were as others; viz. by nature as it has been depraved by sin, not as it was created upright from the beginning. But the way in which man was thus delivered into the power of the devil, ought not to be so understood as if God did this, or commanded it to be done; but that He only permitted it, yet that justly. For when He abandoned the sin ner, the author of the sin immediately entered. Yet God did not certainly so abandon His own creature as not to show Himself to him as God creating and quickening, and among penal evils bestowing also many good things upon the evil. For He has not in anger shut up His tender mercies. Nor did He dismiss man from the law of His own power, when He permitted him to be in the power of the devil; since even the devil himself is not separated from the power of the Omnipotent, as neither from His goodness. For whence do even the evil angels subsist in whatever manner of life they have, except through Him who quickens all things? If, therefore, the commission of sins through the just anger of God subjected man to the devil, doubtless the remission of sins through the merciful reconciliation of God rescues man from the devil.

The devil had to be overcome not by God's power, but by His righteousness. After all, what could be more powerful than the Omnipotent? What creature's power could compare to the Creator's power? However, because the devil, through his own corrupt choice, became a lover of power and an abandoner and enemy of righteousness—and people imitate him more closely the more they pursue power while neglecting or even hating righteousness, either rejoicing when they gain power or burning with desire for it—God chose to rescue humanity from the devil's grasp by conquering the devil through righteousness, not power. In the same way, people imitating Christ should seek to conquer the devil by righteousness, not by power. This doesn't mean power should be avoided as if it were evil, but the proper order must be maintained: righteousness must come first. How much power can mortal beings really have? Therefore, let mortals hold to righteousness; power will be given to the immortal. Compared to this future power, however great the power of those called powerful on earth may be, it proves to be laughable weakness, and a trap is set for the sinner right where the wicked appear most powerful. The righteous person sings: Blessed is the man whom You chasten, O Lord, and teach out of Your law, that You may give him rest from the days of adversity, until the pit be dug for the wicked. For the Lord will not cast off His people, neither will He forsake His inheritance, until righteousness return unto judgment, and all who follow it are upright in heart. So in this present time, when the might of God's people is delayed, the Lord will not abandon His people or forsake His inheritance, no matter what bitter and unworthy things it suffers in its humility and weakness, until the righteousness that the weakness of the godly now possesses returns to judgment—that is, receives the power to judge. This power is reserved for the righteous at the end, when power in its proper order will follow after righteousness going before it. Power joined with righteousness, or righteousness added to power, creates judicial authority. But righteousness belongs to a good will. That's why the angels said when Christ was born: Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will. Power should follow righteousness, not precede it, and so power is placed second—that is, in prosperous fortune—and is called second because it follows. As we argued above, two things make a person blessed: willing rightly and being able to do what one wills. People shouldn't be so perverse, as noted in that same discussion, that they choose from these two things only the ability to do what they will while neglecting to will what they should. Instead, they should first have a good will, and great power afterward. Furthermore, a good will must be cleansed from vices, because if someone is overcome by vices, they are overcome in such a way that they will evil—so how could their will still be good? We should wish for power to be given now, but power against vices. People don't want to be powerful to conquer vices, but they do want to be powerful to conquer other people. Why is this, except that being truly conquered themselves, they only pretend to conquer and are conquerors not in truth but only in opinion? Let a person will to be prudent, will to be strong, will to be temperate, will to be just. To truly have these qualities, let them certainly desire power and seek to be powerful in themselves and—strange as it may seem—against themselves for their own sake. But all the other things they rightly desire yet cannot have, such as immortality and true and complete happiness, let them never stop longing for and patiently await.

17. But the devil was to be overcome, not by the power of God, but by His righteousness. For what is more powerful than the Omnipotent? Or what creature is there of which the power can be compared to the power of the Creator? But since the devil, by the fault of his own perversity, was made a lover of power, and a forsaker and assailant of righteousness — for thus also men imitate him so much the more in proportion as they set their hearts on power, to the neglect or even hatred of righteousness, and as they either rejoice in the attainment of power, or are inflamed by the lust of it — it pleased God, that in order to the rescuing of man from the grasp of the devil, the devil should be conquered, not by power, but by righteousness; and that so also men, imitating Christ, should seek to conquer the devil by righteousness, not by power. Not that power is to be shunned as as though it were something evil; but the order must be preserved, whereby righteousness is before it. For how great can be the power of mortals? Therefore let mortals cleave to righteousness; power will be given to immortals. And compared to this, the power, how great soever, of those men who are called powerful on earth, is found to be ridiculous weakness, and a pitfall is dug there for the sinner, where the wicked seem to be most powerful. And the righteous man says in his song, Blessed is the man whom You chasten, O Lord, and teach out of Your law: that You may give him rest from the days of adversity, until the pit be dug for the wicked. For the Lord will not cast off His people, neither will He forsake His inheritance, until righteousness return unto judgment, and all who follow it are upright in heart. Psalm 94:12-15 At this present time, then, in which the might of the people of God is delayed, the Lord will not cast off His people, neither will He forsake His inheritance, how bitter and unworthy things soever it may suffer in its humility and weakness; until the righteousness, which the weakness of the pious now possesses, shall return to judgment, that is, shall receive the power of judging; which is preserved in the end for the righteous when power in its due order shall have followed after righteousness going before. For power joined to righteousness, or righteousness added to power, constitutes a judicial authority. But righteousness belongs to a good will; whence it was said by the angels when Christ was born: Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will. But power ought to follow righteousness, not to go before it; and accordingly it is placed in second, that is, prosperous fortune; and this is called second, from following. For whereas two things make a man blessed, as we have argued above, to will well, and to be able to do what one wills, people ought not to be so perverse, as has been noted in the same discussion, as that a man should choose from the two things which make him blessed, the being able to do what he wills, and should neglect to will what he ought; whereas he ought first to have a good will, but great power afterwards. Further, a good will must be purged from vices, by which if a man is overcome, he is in such wise overcome as that he wills evil; and then how will his will be still good? It is to be wished, then, that power may now be given, but power against vices, to conquer which men do not wish to be powerful, while they wish to be so in order to conquer men; and why is this, unless that, being in truth conquered, they feignedly conquer, and are conquerors not in truth, but in opinion? Let a man will to be prudent, will to be strong, will to be temperate, will to be just; and that he may be able to have these things truly, let him certainly desire power, and seek to be powerful in himself, and (strange though it be) against himself for himself. But all the other things which he wills rightly, and yet is not able to have, as, for instance, immortality and true and full felicity, let him not cease to long for, and let him patiently expect.

What, then, is the righteousness by which the devil was conquered? What else but the righteousness of Jesus Christ? And how was he conquered? Because although the devil found nothing in Christ worthy of death, he still killed Him. And it is certainly just that we who were held as the devil's debtors should be set free by believing in the one whom he killed, even though that one owed no debt. This is how we are said to be justified in the blood of Christ. For that innocent blood was shed for the forgiveness of our sins. This is why He calls Himself in the Psalms "Free among the dead." For only someone who is dead is free from the debt of death. So in another psalm He says, "Then I restored what I did not seize," referring to sin as the thing seized, because sin is a taking hold of what is unlawful. This is also why He says, through His own flesh, as we read in the Gospel: "For the prince of this world comes and has nothing in me"—that is, no sin—"but so that the world may know that I do the commandment of the Father, arise, let us go from here." And from there He proceeds to His passion, so that He might pay on behalf of us debtors what He Himself did not owe. Would the devil have been conquered by this most just right if Christ had chosen to deal with him by power rather than by righteousness? But He held back what was possible for Him, so that He might first do what was fitting. And this is why He had to be both man and God. For unless He had been man, He could not have been killed; unless He had been God, people would not have believed that He chose not to do what He could do, but rather that He could not do what He wanted to do. We would not have thought that He preferred righteousness to power, but that He lacked power. But now He suffered human things for us because He was man; yet if He had been unwilling, He would have had the power not to suffer these things, because He was also God. And righteousness was therefore made more appealing in humility, because the great power that was in His divinity, if He had been unwilling, would have been able to avoid suffering humility. Thus by Him who died while having such power, both righteousness was demonstrated and power was promised to us weak mortals. For He accomplished one of these two things by dying, the other by rising again. For what is more righteous than to go even to the death of the cross for righteousness? And what is more powerful than to rise from the dead and ascend into heaven with the very flesh in which He was killed? And therefore He conquered the devil first by righteousness, and afterward by power: namely, by righteousness, because He had no sin and was most unjustly killed by him; but by power, because having died He lived again, never to die again. But He would have conquered the devil by power even if he could not have been killed by him, although it belongs to a greater power to conquer death itself by rising again than to avoid it by continuing to live. But the real reason why we are justified in the blood of Christ, when we are rescued from the power of the devil through the forgiveness of sins, is this: that the devil is conquered by Christ by righteousness, not by power. For Christ was crucified, not through immortal power, but through the weakness He took upon Himself in mortal flesh—though of this weakness the apostle says that the weakness of God is stronger than men.

18. What, then, is the righteousness by which the devil was conquered? What, except the righteousness of Jesus Christ? And how was he conquered? Because, when he found in Him nothing worthy of death, yet he slew Him. And certainly it is just, that we whom he held as debtors, should be dismissed free by believing in Him whom he slew without any debt. In this way it is that we are said to be justified in the blood of Christ. For so that innocent blood was shed for the remission of our sins. Whence He calls Himself in the Psalms, Free among the dead. For he only that is dead is free from the debt of death. Hence also in another psalm He says, Then I restored that which I seized not; meaning sin by the thing seized, because sin is laid hold of against what is lawful. Whence also He says, by the mouth of His own Flesh, as is read in the Gospel: For the prince of this world comes, and has nothing in me, that is, no sin; but that the world may know, He says, that I do the commandment of the Father; arise, let us go hence. And hence He proceeds to His passion, that He might pay for us debtors that which He Himself did not owe. Would then the devil be conquered by this most just right, if Christ had willed to deal with him by power, not by righteousness? But He held back what was possible to Him, in order that He might first do what was fitting. And hence it was necessary that He should be both man and God. For unless He had been man, He could not have been slain; unless He had been God, men would not have believed that He would not do what He could, but that He could not do what He would; nor should we have thought that righteousness was preferred by Him to power, but that He lacked power. But now He suffered for us things belonging to man, because He was man; but if He had been unwilling, it would have been in His power to not so to suffer, because He was also God. And righteousness was therefore made more acceptable in humility, because so great power as was in His Divinity, if He had been unwilling, would have been able not to suffer humility; and thus by Him who died, being thus powerful, both righteousness was commended, and power promised, to us, weak mortals. For He did one of these two things by dying, the other by rising again. For what is more righteous, than to come even to the death of the cross for righteousness? And what more powerful, than to rise from the dead, and to ascend into heaven with that very flesh in which He was slain? And therefore He conquered the devil first by righteousness, and afterwards by power: namely, by righteousness, because He had no sin, and was slain by him most unjustly; but by power, because having been dead He lived again, never afterwards to die. But He would have conquered the devil by power, even though He could not have been slain by him: although it belongs to a greater power to conquer death itself also by rising again, than to avoid it by living. But the reason is really a different one, why we are justified in the blood of Christ, when we are rescued from the power of the devil through the remission of sins: it pertains to this, that the devil is conquered by Christ by righteousness, not by power. For Christ was crucified, not through immortal power, but through the weakness which He took upon Him in mortal flesh; of which weakness nevertheless the apostle says, that the weakness of God is stronger than men.

It is not difficult to see that the devil was defeated when the one he killed rose again. But there is something greater and more profound to understand: the devil was actually defeated at the very moment when he thought he had won, that is, when Christ was killed. For then Christ's blood, since He had no sin at all, was poured out for the forgiveness of our sins. The devil deservedly held captive those whom, as guilty of sin, he bound under the condition of death. But he was forced to deservedly release them through Christ, whom the punishment of death undeservedly afflicted, since Christ was guilty of no sin. The strong man was conquered by this righteousness and bound with this chain, so that his vessels might be taken from him. These vessels had been vessels of wrath along with him and his angels while they were with him, but now they could be turned into vessels of mercy. The Apostle Paul tells us that these very words of our Lord Jesus Christ were spoken from heaven to him when he was first called. Among the other things he heard, Paul also reports this as being said to him: "For I have appeared to you for this purpose, to make you a minister and a witness both of these things which you have seen from me, and of those things in which I will appear to you; delivering you from the people and from the Gentiles, to whom now I send you, to open the eyes of the blind, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified, and faith that is in me." And so the same apostle, urging believers to give thanks to God the Father, says: "Who has delivered us from the power of darkness and has translated us into the kingdom of His dear Son, in whom we have redemption, even the forgiveness of sins." In this redemption, the blood of Christ was given as a kind of price for us. By accepting this price, the devil was not enriched but bound, so that we might be freed from his bonds. Now he cannot drag into the snares of sin and hand over to the destruction of the second and eternal death anyone whom Christ, free from all debt, had redeemed by pouring out His own blood without any debt. Rather, those who belong to the grace of Christ—who were foreknown, predestinated, and elected before the foundation of the world—should only die to the extent that Christ Himself died for them, that is, only by the death of the flesh, not of the spirit.

19. It is not then difficult to see that the devil was conquered, when he who was slain by Him rose again. It is something more, and more profound of comprehension, to see that the devil was conquered when he thought himself to have conquered, that is, when Christ was slain. For then that blood, since it was His who had no sin at all, was poured out for the remission of our sins; that, because the devil deservedly held those whom, as guilty of sin, he bound by the condition of death, he might deservedly loose them through Him, whom, as guilty of no sin, the punishment of death undeservedly affected. The strong man was conquered by this righteousness, and bound with this chain, that his vessels might be spoiled, which with himself and his angels had been vessels of wrath while with him, and might be turned into vessels of mercy. For the Apostle Paul tells us, that these words of our Lord Jesus Christ Himself were spoken from heaven to him when he was first called. For among the other things which he heard, he speaks also of this as said to him thus: For I have appeared unto you for this purpose, to make you a minister and a witness both of these things which you have seen from me, and of those things in the which I will appear unto you; delivering you from the people, and from the Gentiles, unto whom now I send you, to open the eyes of the blind, and to turn them from darkness [to light], and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified, and faith that is in me. And hence the same apostle also, exhorting believers to the giving of thanks to God the Father, says: Who has delivered us from the power of darkness and has translated us into the kingdom of His dear Son: in whom we have redemption, even the forgiveness of sins. In this redemption, the blood of Christ was given, as it were, as a price for us, by accepting which the devil was not enriched, but bound: that we might be loosened from his bonds, and that he might not with himself involve in the meshes of sins, and so deliver to the destruction of the second and eternal death, any one of those whom Christ, free from all debt, had redeemed by pouring out His own blood unindebtedly; but that they who belong to the grace of Christ, foreknown, and predestinated, and elected before the foundation of the world should only so far die as Christ Himself died for them, i.e. only by the death of the flesh, not of the spirit.

Although the physical death of the body came originally from the sin of the first man, the good use of it has produced the most glorious martyrs. In the same way, not only death itself, but all the evils of this world and the griefs and labors of humanity, even though they come from what sins deserve, especially from original sin—which is why life itself became bound by the bond of death—have fittingly remained even after sin is forgiven. This gives people something to contend with for the sake of truth, and a means by which the goodness of the faithful can be exercised. The purpose is that the new man, through the new covenant, might be prepared among the evils of this world for a new world by wisely bearing the misery that this condemned life deserved, by soberly rejoicing because it will end, and by faithfully and patiently expecting the blessedness that the future life, once set free, will possess forever. For the devil has been cast out from his dominion and from the hearts of the faithful—he had reigned, though himself condemned, through the condemnation and faithlessness of those hearts—and is now only permitted to be an adversary according to the conditions of this mortal state, to the extent that God knows is beneficial for them. The sacred writings speak of this through the apostle's words: God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, so that you may be able to bear it. The evils that the faithful endure piously serve either to correct sins, to exercise and prove righteousness, or to show the misery of this life so that the life where true and eternal blessedness will exist may be desired more ardently and sought more earnestly. These evils are still kept in existence on account of those of whom the apostle says: For we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called to be holy according to His purpose. For those He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren. Moreover, those He predestined, He also called; and those He called, He also justified; and those He justified, He also glorified. Of these who are predestined, not one will perish with the devil; not one will remain even until death under the devil's power. And then follows what I have already cited above: What shall we then say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all; how has He not with Him also freely given us all things?

20. For although the death, too, of the flesh itself came originally from the sin of the first man, yet the good use of it has made most glorious martyrs. And so not only that death itself, but all the evils of this world, and the griefs and labors of men, although they come from the deserts of sins, and especially of original sin, whence life itself too became bound by the bond of death, yet have fitly remained, even when sin is forgiven; that man might have wherewith to contend for truth, and whereby the goodness of the faithful might be exercised; in order that the new man through the new covenant might be made ready among the evils of this world for a new world, by bearing wisely the misery which this condemned life deserved, and by rejoicing soberly because it will be finished, but expecting faithfully and patiently the blessedness which the future life, being set free, will have forever. For the devil being cast forth from his dominion, and from the hearts of the faithful, in the condemnation and faithlessness of whom he, although himself also condemned, yet reigned, is only so far permitted to be an adversary according to the condition of this mortality, as God knows to be expedient for them: concerning which the sacred writings speak through the mouth of the apostle: God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that you are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that you may be able to bear it. And those evils which the faithful endure piously, are of profit either for the correction of sins, or for the exercising and proving of righteousness, or to manifest the misery of this life, that the life where will be that true and perpetual blessedness may be desired more ardently, and sought out more earnestly. But it is on their account that these evils are still kept in being, of whom the apostle says: For we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called to be holy according to His purpose. For whom He did foreknow, He also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the first-born among many brethren. Moreover, whom He did predestinate, them He also called; and whom He called, them He also justified; and whom He justified, them He also glorified. It is of these who are predestinated, that not one shall perish with the devil; not one shall remain even to death under the power of the devil. And then follows what I have already cited above: What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us? He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all; how has He not with Him also freely given us all things?

Why then should the death of Christ not have happened? In fact, why should not that death itself have been chosen above all else to be accomplished, rather than the countless other ways which the omnipotent God could have used to free us? I mean that death in which nothing was diminished or changed from His divinity, and such great benefit was conferred upon humanity from the humanity which He took upon Himself. In that death, a temporal death which was not owed was rendered by the eternal Son of God, who was also the Son of man, so that He might free them from an eternal death which was owed. The devil was holding fast our sins, and through them was fixing us deservedly in death. Christ discharged them, who had none of His own, and who was led by the devil to death undeservedly. That blood was of such value that the devil, who even slew Christ for a time by a death which was not deserved, can now detain no one who has put on Christ in the eternal death which was deserved. Therefore God demonstrates His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more then, being now justified in His blood, we shall be saved from wrath through Him. Justified, he says, in His blood—justified plainly, in that we are freed from all sin. And we are freed from all sin because the Son of God, who knew no sin, was slain for us. Therefore we shall be saved from wrath through Him—from the wrath certainly of God, which is nothing else but just punishment. For the wrath of God is not, as is that of man, a disturbance of the mind, but it is the wrath of Him to whom Holy Scripture says in another place, But You, O Lord, mastering Your power, judge with calmness. If, therefore, the just punishment of God has received such a name, what can be the right understanding also of the reconciliation of God, unless that then such wrath comes to an end? Neither were we enemies to God, except as sins are enemies to righteousness. When sins are forgiven, such enmities come to an end, and those whom He Himself justifies are reconciled to the Just One. And yet certainly He loved them even while still enemies, since He spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, when we were still enemies. And therefore the apostle has rightly added: For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son, by which that forgiveness of sins was made, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved in His life. Saved in life, who were reconciled by death. For who can doubt that He will give His life for His friends, for whom, when enemies, He gave His death? And not only so, he says, but we also joy in God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now received the atonement. Not only, he says, shall we be saved, but we also joy, and not in ourselves, but in God, nor through ourselves, but through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now received the atonement, as we have argued above. Then the apostle adds, Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin, and so death passed upon all men, in whom all have sinned, and so forth. In this passage he disputes at some length concerning the two men. The one is the first Adam, through whose sin and death we, his descendants, are bound by, as it were, inherited evils. And the other is the second Adam, who is not only man, but also God, by whose payment for us of what He owed not, we are freed from the debts both of our first father and of ourselves. Further, since on account of that one the devil held all who were begotten through his corrupted carnal desire, it is just that on account of this one he should release all who are regenerated through His immaculate spiritual grace.

21. Why then should the death of Christ not have come to pass? Nay, rather, why should not that death itself have been chosen above all else to be brought to pass, to the passing by of the other innumerable ways which He who is omnipotent could have employed to free us; that death, I say, wherein neither was anything diminished or changed from His divinity, and so great benefit was conferred upon men, from the humanity which He took upon Him, that a temporal death, which was not due, was rendered by the eternal Son of God, who was also the Son of man, whereby He might free them from an eternal death which was due? The devil was holding fast our sins, and through them was fixing us deservedly in death. He discharged them, who had none of His own, and who was led by him to death undeservedly. That blood was of such price, that he who even slew Christ for a time by a death which was not due, can as his due detain no one, who has put on Christ, in the eternal death which was due. Therefore God commends His love towards us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more then, being now justified in His blood, we shall be saved from wrath through Him. Justified, he says, in His blood, — justified plainly, in that we are freed from all sin; and freed from all sin, because the Son of God, who knew no sin, was slain for us. Therefore we shall be saved from wrath through Him; from the wrath certainly of God, which is nothing else but just retribution. For the wrath of God is not, as is that of man, a perturbation of the mind; but it is the wrath of Him to whom Holy Scripture says in another place, But You, O Lord, mastering Your power, judgest with calmness. If, therefore, the just retribution of God has received such a name, what can be the right understanding also of the reconciliation of God, unless that then such wrath comes to an end? Neither were we enemies to God, except as sins are enemies to righteousness; which being forgiven, such enmities come to an end, and they whom He Himself justifies are reconciled to the Just One. And yet certainly He loved them even while still enemies, since He spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, when we were still enemies. And therefore the apostle has rightly added: For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son, by which that remission of sins was made, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved in His life. Saved in life, who were reconciled by death. For who can doubt that He will give His life for His friends, for whom, when enemies, He gave His death? And not only so, he says, but we also joy in God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now received the atonement. Not only, he says, shall we be saved, but we also joy; and not in ourselves, but in God; nor through ourselves, but through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now received the atonement, as we have argued above. Then the apostle adds, Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, in whom all have sinned; etc.: in which he disputes at some length concerning the two men; the one the first Adam, through whose sin and death we, his descendants, are bound by, as it were, hereditary evils; and the other the second Adam, who is not only man, but also God, by whose payment for us of what He owed not, we are freed from the debts both of our first father and of ourselves. Further, since on account of that one the devil held all who were begotten through his corrupted carnal concupiscence, it is just that on account of this one he should loose all who are regenerated through His immaculate spiritual grace.

There are many other things about the incarnation of Christ, though it displeases the proud, that should be observed and considered to our advantage. One is that it has been shown to humanity what place it holds in God's creation, since human nature could be united to God so that one person could be made from two substances, and thereby from three—God, soul, and flesh. In this way, those proud and malicious spirits who present themselves as mediators to deceive, though pretending to help, do not dare to place themselves above humanity just because they lack flesh. And especially because the Son of God also chose to die in that same flesh, they cannot succeed in getting themselves worshiped as gods simply because they appear to be immortal. Furthermore, God's grace toward us is demonstrated in the man Christ without any prior merits, because even Christ himself did not obtain through any prior merits his union in such great unity with the true God, becoming the Son of God, one person with him. Rather, from the moment he began to be human, from that moment he is also God, which is why it is said, The Word was made flesh. Then there is also this: human pride, which is the chief obstacle preventing us from clinging to God, can be refuted and healed through such great humility of God. Humanity also learns how far it has wandered from God, and what pain is worthwhile to cure it when it returns through such a Mediator, who both as God helps people by his divinity, and as human agrees with people by his weakness. For what greater example of obedience could be given to us, who had perished through disobedience, than God the Son being obedient to God the Father, even to the death of the cross? Moreover, how could the reward of obedience itself be better shown than in the flesh of so great a Mediator, which rose again to eternal life? It also belonged to the justice and goodness of the Creator that the devil should be conquered by the same rational creature that he had rejoiced to conquer, and by one who came from that same race which, through the corruption of its origin in one man, the devil held completely.

22. There are many other things also in the incarnation of Christ, displeasing as it is to the proud, that are to be observed and thought of advantageously. And one of them is, that it has been demonstrated to man what place he has in the things which God has created; since human nature could so be joined to God, that one person could be made of two substances, and thereby indeed of three — God, soul, and flesh: so that those proud malignant spirits, who interpose themselves as mediators to deceive, although as if to help, do not therefore dare to place themselves above man because they have not flesh; and chiefly because the Son of God deigned to die also in the same flesh, lest they, because they seem to be immortal, should therefore succeed in getting themselves worshipped as gods. Further, that the grace of God might be commended to us in the man Christ without any precedent merits; because not even He Himself obtained by any precedent merits that He should be joined in such great unity with the true God, and should become the Son of God, one Person with Him; but from the time when He began to be man, from that time He is also God; whence it is said, The Word was made flesh. Then, again, there is this, that the pride of man, which is the chief hindrance against his cleaving to God, can be confuted and healed through such great humility of God. Man learns also how far he has gone away from God; and what it is worth to him as a pain to cure him, when he returns through such a Mediator, who both as God assists men by His divinity, and as man agrees with men by His weakness. For what greater example of obedience could be given to us, who had perished through disobedience, than God the Son obedient to God the Father, even to the death of the cross? Nay, wherein could the reward of obedience itself be better shown, than in the flesh of so great a Mediator, which rose again to eternal life? It belonged also to the justice and goodness of the Creator, that the devil should be conquered by the same rational creature which he rejoiced to have conquered, and by one that came from that same race which, by the corruption of its origin through one, he held altogether.

For God could certainly have taken human nature upon Himself to be the Mediator between God and humanity from some other source rather than from the race of Adam, who bound the human race by his sin—just as He did not create the first man from someone else's race. Therefore, He could have created another person, either in that way or by any other means He chose, through whom the conqueror of the first man might be conquered. But God judged it better to take human nature from the very race that had been conquered in order to conquer the enemy of the human race, and yet to do this from a virgin, whose conception was preceded not by flesh but by spirit, not by lust but by faith. The concupiscence of the flesh, by which all other people who inherit original sin are conceived and born, did not intervene. Instead, holy virginity became pregnant not through sexual union but through faith, with lust completely absent, so that what was born from the root of the first man would inherit only the origin of the race, not the origin of guilt. For what was born was not a nature corrupted by the contagion of transgression, but the one and only remedy for all such corruptions. There was born, I say, a Man having nothing at all of sin and destined to have nothing at all of sin, through whom those who could not be born without sin were to be born again so as to be freed from sin. For although married chastity makes right use of the carnal concupiscence that exists in our bodies, it is still subject to involuntary movements, which show that it either could not have existed at all in paradise before sin, or if it did exist, it was not then of such a nature that it would sometimes resist the will. But now we experience it as something that, in opposition to the law of the mind and even when procreation is not in question, stirs in us the urge toward sexual intercourse. If people yield to it, it is satisfied by an act of sin; if they do not, it is restrained by an act of refusal. Who could doubt that both these things were foreign to paradise before sin? For the chastity that existed then did nothing improper, nor did the pleasure that existed then experience anything disturbing. Therefore, it was necessary that this carnal concupiscence be entirely absent when the offspring of the Virgin was conceived. In Him, the author of death was to find nothing worthy of death, and yet was to kill Him so that he might be conquered by the death of the Author of life. The conqueror of the first Adam, who held the human race captive, was conquered by the second Adam, and losing the Christian race, he lost those freed from the human race's human guilt through Him who was not under the guilt, although He was of the race. This was done so that the deceiver might be conquered by the very race he had conquered through guilt. And this was accomplished so that humanity might not be lifted up, but that whoever boasts should boast in the Lord. For the one who was conquered was only human, and he was conquered because he proudly desired to be a god. But the One who conquered was both human and God, and He conquered in this way by being born of a virgin, because God in humility did not merely govern that Man as He governs other saints, but carried Him as a Son. These great gifts of God, and whatever others there are that would take too long for us now to investigate and discuss on this subject, could not exist unless the Word had been made flesh.

23. For assuredly God could have taken upon Himself to be man, that in that manhood He might be the Mediator between God and men, from some other source, and not from the race of that Adam who bound the human race by his sin; as He did not create him whom He first created, of the race of some one else. Therefore He was able, either so, or in any other mode that He would, to create yet one other, by whom the conqueror of the first might be conquered. But God judged it better both to take upon Him man through whom to conquer the enemy of the human race, from the race itself that had been conquered; and yet to do this of a virgin, whose conception, not flesh but spirit, not lust but faith, preceded. Nor did that concupiscence of the flesh intervene, by which the rest of men, who derive original sin, are propagated and conceived; but holy virginity became pregnant, not by conjugal intercourse, but by faith — lust being utterly absent — so that that which was born from the root of the first man might derive only the origin of race, not also of guilt. For there was born, not a nature corrupted by the contagion of transgression, but the one only remedy of all such corruptions. There was born, I say, a Man having nothing at all, and to have nothing at all, of sin; through whom they were to be born again so as to be freed from sin, who could not be born without sin. For although conjugal chastity makes a right use of the carnal concupiscence which is in our members; yet it is liable to motions not voluntary, by which it shows either that it could not have existed at all in paradise before sin, or if it did, that it was not then such as that sometimes it should resist the will. But now we feel it to be such, that in opposition to the law of the mind, and even if there is no question of begetting, it works in us the incitement of sexual intercourse; and if in this men yield to it, then it is satisfied by an act of sin; if they do not, then it is bridled by an act of refusal: which two things who could doubt to have been alien from paradise before sin? For neither did the chastity that then was do anything indecorous, nor did the pleasure that then was suffer anything unquiet. It was necessary, therefore, that this carnal concupiscence should be entirely absent, when the offspring of the Virgin was conceived; in whom the author of death was to find nothing worthy of death, and yet was to slay Him in order that he might be conquered by the death of the Author of life: the conqueror of the first Adam, who held fast the human race, conquered by the second Adam, and losing the Christian race, freed out of the human race from human guilt, through Him who was not in the guilt, although He was of the race; that that deceiver might be conquered by that race which he had conquered by guilt. And this was so done, in order that man may not be lifted up, but that he that glories should glory in the Lord. For he who was conquered was only man; and he was therefore conquered, because he lusted proudly to be a god. But He who conquered was both man and God; and therefore He so conquered, being born of a virgin, because God in humility did not, as He governs other saints, so govern that Man, but bare Him [as a Son]. These so great gifts of God, and whatever else there are, which it is too long for us now upon this subject both to inquire and to discuss, could not exist unless the Word had been made flesh.

All these things which the Word made flesh did and endured for us in time and place belong, according to the distinction we have undertaken to demonstrate, to knowledge, not to wisdom. But the Word itself is without time and without place, is co-eternal with the Father, and in its wholeness is everywhere. If anyone can speak truly concerning this Word, and as much as he can, then his speech will pertain to wisdom. Therefore the Word made flesh, which is Christ Jesus, has the treasures both of wisdom and of knowledge. The apostle writes to the Colossians: For I want you to know what great conflict I have for you, and for those at Laodicea, and for as many as have not seen my face in the flesh, that their hearts might be comforted, being knit together in love, and reaching all riches of the full assurance of understanding, to the acknowledgment of the mystery of God which is Christ Jesus, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. To what extent the apostle knew all those treasures, how much of them he had penetrated, and to what great things he had reached in them, who can know? Yet for my part, according to what is written, But the manifestation of the Spirit is given to every man to profit, for to one is given by the Spirit the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge by the same Spirit—if these two are to be distinguished from each other in such a way that wisdom is assigned to divine things and knowledge to human things, I acknowledge both in Christ, and so do all His faithful ones with me. When I read, The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, I understand by the Word the true Son of God, I acknowledge in the flesh the true Son of man, and both together joined into one Person of God and man by an ineffable abundance of grace. Because of this, the apostle goes on to say, And we beheld His glory, the glory as of the Only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. If we refer grace to knowledge and truth to wisdom, I think we shall not stray from that distinction between these two things which we have commended. For in those things that have their origin in time, this is the highest grace, that man is joined with God in unity of person. But in things eternal the highest truth is rightly attributed to the Word of God. But that the same is Himself the Only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth—this took place so that He Himself in things done for us in time should be the same one for whom we are cleansed by the same faith, so that we may contemplate Him steadfastly in things eternal. Those distinguished philosophers of the pagans who have been able to understand and discern the invisible things of God by those things which are made have yet, as is said of them, held down the truth in iniquity, because they philosophized without a Mediator, that is, without the man Christ, whom they neither believed to be about to come at the word of the prophets, nor to have come at that of the apostles. For placed as they were in these lowest things, they could not help but seek some intermediaries through which they might attain to those lofty things which they had understood. And so they fell upon deceitful spirits, through whom it came to pass that they changed the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things. For in such forms also they set up or worshipped idols. Therefore Christ is our knowledge, and the same Christ is also our wisdom. He Himself implants in us faith concerning temporal things, He Himself shows forth the truth concerning eternal things. Through Him we reach on to Himself. We stretch through knowledge to wisdom, yet we do not withdraw from one and the same Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and of knowledge. But now we speak of knowledge, and will hereafter speak of wisdom as much as He Himself shall grant. And let us not take these two things as if it were not allowable to speak either of the wisdom which is in human things or of the knowledge which is in divine things. For according to a looser custom of speech, both can be called wisdom, and both knowledge. Yet the apostle could not in any way have written, To one is given the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge, except these several things had also been properly called by the several names, of the distinction between which we are now treating.

24. And all these things which the Word made flesh did and bare for us in time and place, belong, according to the distinction which we have undertaken to demonstrate, to knowledge, not to wisdom. And as the Word is without time and without place, it is co-eternal with the Father, and in its wholeness everywhere; and if any one can, and as much as he can, speak truly concerning this Word, then his discourse will pertain to wisdom. And hence the Word made flesh, which is Christ Jesus, has the treasures both of wisdom and of knowledge. For the apostle, writing to the Colossians, says: For I would that you knew what great conflict I have for you, and for them at Laodicea, and for as many as have not seen my face in the flesh; that their hearts might be comforted, being knit together in love, and unto all riches of the full assurance of understanding, to the acknowledgment of the mystery of God which is Christ Jesus: in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. To what extent the apostle knew all those treasures, how much of them he had penetrated, and in them to how great things he had reached, who can know? Yet, for my part, according to that which is written, But the manifestation of the Spirit is given to every man to profit withal; for to one is given by the Spirit the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge by the same Spirit; if these two are in such way to be distinguished from each other, that wisdom is to be assigned to divine things, knowledge to human, I acknowledge both in Christ, and so with me do all His faithful ones. And when I read, The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, I understand by the Word the true Son of God, I acknowledge in the flesh the true Son of man, and both together joined into one Person of God and man, by an ineffable copiousness of grace. And on account of this, the apostle goes on to say, And we beheld His glory, the glory as of the Only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. If we refer grace to knowledge, and truth to wisdom, I think we shall not swerve from that distinction between these two things which we have commended. For in those things that have their origin in time, this is the highest grace, that man is joined with God in unity of person; but in things eternal the highest truth is rightly attributed to the Word of God. But that the same is Himself the Only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth — this took place, in order that He Himself in things done for us in time should be the same for whom we are cleansed by the same faith, that we may contemplate Him steadfastly in things eternal. And those distinguished philosophers of the heathen who have been able to understand and discern the invisible things of God by those things which are made, have yet, as is said of them, held down the truth in iniquity; because they philosophized without a Mediator, that is, without the man Christ, whom they neither believed to be about to come at the word of the prophets, nor to have come at that of the apostles. For, placed as they were in these lowest things, they could not but seek some media through which they might attain to those lofty things which they had understood; and so they fell upon deceitful spirits, through whom it came to pass, that they changed the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things. For in such forms also they set up or worshipped idols. Therefore Christ is our knowledge, and the same Christ is also our wisdom. He Himself implants in us faith concerning temporal things, He Himself shows forth the truth concerning eternal things. Through Him we reach on to Himself: we stretch through knowledge to wisdom; yet we do not withdraw from one and the same Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and of knowledge. But now we speak of knowledge, and will hereafter speak of wisdom as much as He Himself shall grant. And let us not so take these two things, as if it were not allowable to speak either of the wisdom which is in human things, or of the knowledge which is in divine. For after a laxer custom of speech, both can be called wisdom, and both knowledge. Yet the apostle could not in any way have written, To one is given the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge, except also these several things had been properly called by the several names, of the distinction between which we are now treating.

Now let us see what this lengthy discussion has accomplished, what it has gathered together, and where it has led. It belongs to all people to will to be blessed; yet not all people have faith, by which the heart is cleansed and blessedness is reached. And so it happens that through the faith which not everyone possesses, we must reach the blessedness that everyone desires. All people see in their own heart that they will to be blessed; and human nature agrees so completely on this matter that a person is not mistaken when he guesses this about another person's mind based on his own. In short, we know that all people will this. But many despair of being immortal, even though no one can otherwise be what all desire to be, namely blessed. Yet they would also will to be immortal if they could; but because they do not believe they can, they do not live in such a way that they can. Therefore faith is necessary so that we may attain blessedness in all the good things of human nature, that is, of both soul and body. But this same faith requires that this faith be centered in Christ, who rose in the flesh from the dead, never to die again; and that no one is freed from the dominion of the devil through the forgiveness of sins except by him; and that in the dwelling place of the devil, life must necessarily be both miserable and never-ending, which ought rather to be called death than life. All of this I have also argued, as far as space permitted, in this book, though I have already said much on the subject in the fourth book of this work as well; but in that place for one purpose, here for another—namely, there to show why and how Christ was sent in the fullness of time by the Father, on account of those who say that he who sent and he who was sent cannot be equal in nature; but here to distinguish practical knowledge from contemplative wisdom.

25. Now, therefore, let us see what this prolix discourse has effected, what it has gathered, whereto it has reached. It belongs to all men to will to be blessed; yet all men have not faith, whereby the heart is cleansed, and so blessedness is reached. And thus it comes to pass, that by means of the faith which not all men will, we have to reach on to the blessedness which every one wills. All see in their own heart that they will to be blessed; and so great is the agreement of human nature on this subject, that the man is not deceived who conjectures this concerning another's mind, out of his own: in short, we know ourselves that all will this. But many despair of being immortal, although no otherwise can any one be that which all will, that is, blessed. Yet they will also to be immortal if they could; but through not believing that they can, they do not so live that they can. Therefore faith is necessary, that we may attain blessedness in all the good things of human nature, that is, of both soul and body. But that same faith requires that this faith be limited in Christ, who rose in the flesh from the dead, not to die any more; and that no one is freed from the dominion of the devil, through the forgiveness of sins, save by Him; and that in the abiding place of the devil, life must needs be at once miserable and never-ending, which ought rather to be called death than life. All which I have also argued, so far as space permitted, in this book, while I have already said much on the subject in the fourth book of this work as well; but in that place for one purpose, here for another — namely, there, that I might show why and how Christ was sent in the fullness of time by the Father, on account of those who say that He who sent and He who was sent cannot be equal in nature; but here, in order to distinguish practical knowlege from contemplative wisdom.

We wanted to climb upward step by step and search within the inner man, both in knowledge and in wisdom, for a particular kind of trinity, just as we had previously searched for one in the outer man. Our goal was to train our minds on these lower things so that we might then contemplate that Trinity which is God—according to our limited capacity, if we can even do this at all, and then only in a riddle and as through a glass. If someone has memorized the words of this faith only as sounds, without knowing what they mean—like people who don't know Greek but have memorized Greek words, or likewise Latin words or words from any other language they don't understand—doesn't that person have a kind of trinity in his mind? First, those word-sounds are in his memory even when he's not thinking about them. Second, the sharp edge of his mental recollection is formed from memory when he thinks of them. Third, the will of the one who remembers and thinks unites both. Yet we should certainly not say that such a person is dealing with a trinity of the inner man, but rather of the outer man, because he remembers and, when he chooses, contemplates as much as he wants only what belongs to the bodily sense called hearing. In this act of thinking, he does nothing but deal with images of bodily things—that is, of sounds. But if he grasps and remembers what those words mean, then something of the inner man is indeed brought into action. However, we still shouldn't say or think that he lives according to a trinity of the inner man if he doesn't love what is declared, commanded, and promised there. For he might also grasp and think about these things while supposing them to be false, in order to try to disprove them. Therefore the will, which in this case unites what is held in memory with what is impressed from there onto the mind's eye in thought, does complete some kind of trinity, since it is a third element added to two others. But the person doesn't live according to this trinity when the things thought about are taken to be false and are not accepted. But when those things are believed to be true, and the things that ought to be loved in them are loved, then at last the person does live according to a trinity of the inner man, for everyone lives according to what he loves. But how can things be loved that are not known but only believed? We have already dealt with this question in earlier books, and we found that no one loves what he is completely ignorant of, but when unknown things are said to be loved, they are loved from things that are known. We now conclude this book by urging the righteous to live by faith, which faith works through love, so that the virtues themselves—by which one lives prudently, courageously, moderately, and justly—are all directed toward this same faith, for otherwise they cannot be true virtues. Yet these virtues in this life are not of such great worth that the forgiveness of some kind of sins is not sometimes necessary here, and this forgiveness happens only through Him who by His own blood conquered the prince of sinners. Whatever ideas exist in the mind of the faithful person from this faith and from such a life, when they are held in memory, looked at by recollection, and pleasing to the will, present a kind of trinity of their own sort. But the image of God, about which we will speak later with His help, is not yet in that trinity—something that will become clearer when we show where it is, which the reader may expect in a following book.

26. For we wished to ascend, as it were, by steps, and to seek in the inner man, both in knowledge and in wisdom, a sort of trinity of its own special kind, such as we sought before in the outer man; in order that we may come, with a mind more practised in these lower things, to the contemplation of that Trinity which is God, according to our little measure, if indeed, we can even do this, at least in a riddle and as through a glass. If, then, any one have committed to memory the words of this faith in their sounds alone, not knowing what they mean, as they commonly who do not know Greek hold in memory Greek words, or similarly Latin ones, or those of any other language of which they are ignorant, has not he a sort of trinity in his mind? Because, first, those sounds of words are in his memory, even when he does not think thereupon; and next, the mental vision ( acies) of his act of recollection is formed thence when he conceives of them; and next, the will of him who remembers and thinks unites both. Yet we should by no means say that the man in so doing busies himself with a trinity of the interior man, but rather of the exterior; because he remembers, and when he wills, contemplates as much as he wills, that alone which belongs to the sense of the body, which is called hearing. Nor in such an act of thought does he do anything else than deal with images of corporeal things, that is, of sounds. But if he holds and recollects what those words signify, now indeed something of the inner man is brought into action; not yet, however, ought he to be said or thought to live according to a trinity of the inner man, if he does not love those things which are there declared, enjoined, promised. For it is possible for him also to hold and conceive these things, supposing them to be false, in order that he may endeavor to disprove them. Therefore that will, which in this case unites those things which are held in the memory with those things which are thence impressed on the mind's eye in conception, completes, indeed, some kind of trinity, since itself is a third added to two others; but the man does not live according to this, when those things which are conceived are taken to be false, and are not accepted. But when those things are believed to be true, and those things which therein ought to be loved, are loved, then at last the man does live according to a trinity of the inner man; for every one lives according to that which he loves. But how can things be loved which are not known, but only believed? This question has been already treated of in former books; and we found, that no one loves what he is wholly ignorant of, but that when things not known are said to be loved, they are loved from those things which are known. And now we so conclude this book, that we admonish the just to live by faith, which faith works by love, so that the virtues also themselves, by which one lives prudently, boldly, temperately, and justly, be all referred to the same faith; for not otherwise can they be true virtues. And yet these in this life are not of so great worth, as that the remission of sins, of some kind or other, is not sometimes necessary here; and this remission comes not to pass, except through Him, who by His own blood conquered the prince of sinners. Whatsoever ideas are in the mind of the faithful man from this faith, and from such a life, when they are contained in the memory, and are looked at by recollection, and please the will, set forth a kind of trinity of its own sort. But the image of God, of which by His help we shall afterwards speak, is not yet in that trinity; a thing which will then be more apparent, when it shall have been shown where it is, which the reader may expect in a succeeding book.