Category: Gregory of Nyssa

A Sermon for the Feast of Lights.

A Sermon for the Day of the Lights.

Now I recognize my own flock: today I see the familiar appearance of the Church, when you turn away with distaste even from your daily concerns about physical needs and gather in full numbers for the service of God—when the people fill the building, coming inside the sacred sanctuary, and when the crowd that cannot find room inside fills the outdoor spaces in the surrounding areas like bees. Some of them are at work inside, while others hum around the hive outside. Keep doing this, my children, and never abandon this enthusiasm. For I confess that I feel a shepherd's love, and when I am placed on this watchtower, I want to see the flock gathered around the base of the mountain. When this happens to me, I am filled with extraordinary energy and work with pleasure on my sermon, just as shepherds do with their rustic songs. But when things are different and you are scattered in distant wanderings, as you were recently on the last Lord's Day, I am deeply troubled and prefer to remain silent. I consider fleeing from here and seek the Carmel of the prophet Elijah or some uninhabited rock, for people who are depressed naturally choose loneliness and solitude. But now, when I see you crowding here with all your families, I am reminded of the prophetic saying that Isaiah proclaimed from far off, addressing the Church in advance with her beautiful and numerous children: "Who are these that fly as a cloud, and as doves with their young to me?" Yes, and he also adds this: "The place is too narrow for me; give me room that I may dwell." For the power of the Spirit made these predictions concerning the populous Church of God, which would later fill the whole world from one end of the earth to the other.

Now I recognize my own flock: today I behold the wonted figure of the Church, when, turning with aversion from the occupation even of the cares of the flesh, you come together in your undiminished numbers for the service of God — when the people crowds the house, coming within the sacred sanctuary, and when the multitude that can find no place within fills the space outside in the precincts like bees. For of them some are at their labours within, while others outside hum around the hive. So do, my children: and never abandon this zeal. For I confess that I feel a shepherd's affections, and I wish, when I am set upon this watchtower, to see the flock gathered round about the mountain's foot: and when it so happens to me, I am filled with wonderful earnestness, and work with pleasure at my sermon, as the shepherds do at their rustic strains. But when things are otherwise, and you are straying in distant wanderings, as you did but lately, the last Lord's Day, I am much troubled, and glad to be silent; and I consider the question of flight from hence, and seek for the Carmel of the prophet Elijah, or for some rock without inhabitant; for men in depression naturally choose loneliness and solitude. But now, when I see you thronging here with all your families, I am reminded of the prophetic saying, which Isaiah proclaimed from afar off, addressing by anticipation the Church with her fair and numerous children:– Who are these that fly as a cloud, and as doves with their young to me? Yes, and he adds moreover this also, The place is too strait for me; give place that I may dwell Isaiah 49:20. For these predictions the power of the Spirit made with reference to the populous Church of God, which was afterwards to fill the whole world from end to end of the earth.

The time has now arrived, bringing with it the remembrance of holy mysteries that purify humanity—mysteries that cleanse from both soul and body even that sin which is difficult to remove, and which restore us to the original beauty that God, the best of craftsmen, placed within us. This is why you, the initiated people, have gathered together, and you also bring those who have not yet experienced these mysteries, guiding the uninitiated like good fathers through careful instruction toward the complete reception of the faith. I rejoice over both groups—over you who are initiated, because you have been enriched with a great gift; over you who are uninitiated, because you have a wonderful expectation of hope—forgiveness of what must be accounted for, freedom from bondage, close relationship with God, confident freedom of speech, and instead of servile submission, equality with the angels. Baptism's grace secures and gives us these things and everything that follows from them. So let us set aside the other matters of the Scriptures for other occasions and focus on the topic before us, offering, as much as we can, the gifts that are appropriate and fitting for this feast, since each festival requires its own treatment. We celebrate a wedding with wedding songs; we bring the proper offering for mourning with funeral hymns; during times of business we speak seriously; during times of celebration we ease the intensity and strain of our minds; but in each case we remain undisturbed by things that do not belong to its character.

The time, then, has come, and bears in its course the remembrance of holy mysteries, purifying man — mysteries which purge out from soul and body even that sin which is hard to cleanse away, and which bring us back to that fairness of our first estate which God, the best of artificers, impressed upon us. Therefore it is that you, the initiated people, are gathered together; and you bring also that people who have not made trial of them, leading, like good fathers, by careful guidance, the uninitiated to the perfect reception of the faith. I for my part rejoice over both — over you that are initiated, because you are enriched with a great gift: over you that are uninitiated, because you have a fair expectation of hope — remission of what is to be accounted for, release from bondage, close relation to God, free boldness of speech, and in place of servile subjection equality with the angels. For these things, and all that follow from them, the grace of Baptism secures and conveys to us. Therefore let us leave the other matters of the Scriptures for other occasions, and abide by the topic set before us, offering, as far as we may, the gifts that are proper and fitting for the feast: for each festival demands its own treatment. So we welcome a marriage with wedding songs; for mourning we bring the due offering with funeral strains; in times of business we speak seriously, at times of festivity we relax the concentration and strain of our minds; but each time we keep free from disturbance by things that are alien to its character.

Christ, then, was born just a few days ago – He whose generation existed before all things, both sensible and intellectual. Today He is baptized by John so that He might cleanse the one who was defiled, so that He might bring the Spirit from above and lift man up to heaven, so that the one who had fallen might be raised up and the one who cast him down might be put to shame. And do not be surprised if God showed such great concern for our cause, for it was with careful planning on the part of the one who wronged us that the plot was laid against us, and it is with forethought on the part of our Maker that we are saved. And that evil deceiver, devising his new scheme of sin against our race, dragged along his serpent form – a disguise fitting for his own purpose – entering in his impurity into what was like himself, dwelling (earthly and worldly as he was in will) in that creeping thing. But Christ, the one who repairs his evil work, takes on manhood in its fullness and saves man, and becomes the pattern and model for us all, to make holy the first-fruits of every action and leave His servants no doubt in their commitment to the tradition. Baptism, then, is a cleansing from sins, a forgiveness of wrongdoing, a cause of renewal and regeneration. By regeneration, understand regeneration conceived in thought, not perceived by physical sight. For we will not, like the Jew Nicodemus with his rather slow understanding, change the old man into a child, nor will we form anew the one who is wrinkled and gray-headed into tenderness and youth by bringing the man back into his mother's womb. Instead, we do bring back by royal grace the one who bears the scars of sin and has grown old in evil habits to the innocence of a baby. For just as the newborn child is free from accusations and penalties, so too the child of regeneration has nothing to answer for, being released by royal generosity from accountability. And this gift is not granted by the water (for in that case it would be something more exalted than all creation), but by the command of God and the visitation of the Spirit that comes sacramentally to set us free. But water serves to express the cleansing. For since we customarily wash ourselves in water to make our body clean when it is soiled by dirt or mud, we therefore also apply it in the sacramental action and display the spiritual brightness through that which our senses can perceive. Let us, however, if it seems good, continue inquiring more fully and carefully about Baptism, starting from the scriptural statement as from the source: "Unless a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." Why are both mentioned, and why is the Spirit alone not considered sufficient for the completion of Baptism? Man, as we know very well, is compound, not simple, and therefore related and similar remedies are assigned for healing to the one who is twofold and composite – for his visible body, water (the sensible element); for his soul (which we cannot see), the Spirit invisible, invoked by faith, present in an unspeakable way. For the Spirit breathes where He wills, and you hear His voice, but cannot tell where He comes from or where He goes. He blesses the body that is baptized and the water that baptizes. Do not despise, therefore, the divine washing, nor think lightly of it as a common thing because of the use of water. For the power that operates is mighty, and wonderful are the things accomplished by it. For this holy altar, too, by which I stand, is stone, ordinary in its nature, in no way different from the other slabs of stone that build our houses and adorn our floors. But seeing that it was consecrated to the service of God and received the blessing, it is a holy table, an altar undefiled, no longer touched by the hands of everyone, but by priests alone, and that with reverence. The bread again is at first common bread, but when the sacramental action consecrates it, it is called and becomes the Body of Christ. So with the sacramental oil; so with the wine – though before the blessing they are of little value, after the sanctification given by the Spirit, each of them has its particular operation. The same power of the word also makes the priest worthy of respect and honor, separated by the new blessing given to him from his fellowship with the mass of people. While just yesterday he was one of the mass, one of the people, he is suddenly made a guide, a leader, a teacher of righteousness, an instructor in hidden mysteries. And he does this without being changed at all in body or form; while continuing to be in all appearance the man he was before, he is transformed by some unseen power and grace in respect to his unseen soul to the higher condition. And so there are many things which, if you consider them, you will see have a contemptible appearance, but accomplish mighty things. And this is especially the case when you gather from ancient history examples related and similar to the subject we are examining. The rod of Moses was a hazel wand. And what is that but common wood that every hand cuts and carries, shapes to whatever use it chooses, and casts as it will into the fire? But when God was pleased to accomplish through that rod those wonders – lofty and beyond the power of language to express – the wood was changed into a serpent. And again, at another time, he struck the waters and now made the water blood, now made a countless swarm of frogs issue forth; and again he divided the sea, splitting it to its depths without it flowing back together. Likewise the cloak of one of the prophets, though it was only a goat's skin, made Elisha famous throughout the whole world. And the wood of the Cross is of saving power for all people, though it is, as I am informed, a piece of a poor tree, less valuable than most trees are. So a bramble bush showed Moses the manifestation of God's presence; so the bones of Elisha raised a dead man to life; so clay gave sight to the one who was blind from birth. And all these things, though they were matter without soul or sense, were made the means for performing the great marvels worked through them when they received the power of God. Now by a similar line of reasoning, water also, though it is nothing else than water, renews the man to spiritual regeneration when the grace from above makes it holy. And if anyone answers me again by raising a difficulty with his questions and doubts, continually asking and inquiring how water and the sacramental act performed in it regenerate, I most justly reply to him: Show me the process of that generation which is according to the flesh, and I will explain to you the power of regeneration in the soul. You will say perhaps, by way of explaining the matter: It is the power of the seed that makes the man. Learn then from us in return that hallowed water cleanses and enlightens the man. And if you again object to me with your "How?" I shall more forcefully cry in answer: How does the fluid and formless substance become a man? And so the argument as it advances will be applied to everything throughout all creation. How does heaven exist? How earth? How sea? How every single thing? For everywhere human reasoning, confused in the attempt at discovery, falls back upon this syllable "how," as those who cannot walk fall back upon a seat. To speak briefly, everywhere the power of God and His operation are incomprehensible and incapable of being reduced to a rule, easily producing whatever He wills while concealing from us the detailed knowledge of His operation. Therefore also the blessed David, applying his mind to the magnificence of creation and filled with confused wonder in his soul, spoke that verse which is sung by all: "O Lord, how manifold are Your works; in wisdom have You made them all." He perceived the wisdom, but the method of the wisdom he could not discover. Let us then leave the task of searching into what is beyond human power, and seek rather that which shows signs of being partly within our understanding – what is the reason that the cleansing is accomplished by water, and what is the purpose of the three immersions? What the fathers taught, and what our mind has received and agreed to, is as follows: We recognize four elements of which the world is composed, which everyone knows even if their names are not spoken; but if it is good, for the sake of the simpler people, to tell you their names, they are fire and air, earth and water. Now our God and Saviour, in fulfilling the plan for our sake, went beneath the fourth of these, the earth, so that He might raise up life from there. And we in receiving Baptism, in imitation of our Lord and Teacher and Guide, are not actually buried in the earth (for this is the shelter of the body that is completely dead, covering the weakness and decay of our nature), but coming to the element related to earth – to water – we hide ourselves in that as the Saviour did in the earth. And by doing this three times we represent for ourselves that grace of the Resurrection which was accomplished in three days. And we do this not receiving the sacrament in silence, but while the Names of the Three Sacred Persons are spoken over us

Christ, then, was born as it were a few days ago — He Whose generation was before all things, sensible and intellectual. Today He is baptized by John that He might cleanse him who was defiled, that He might bring the Spirit from above, and exalt man to heaven, that he who had fallen might be raised up and he who had cast him down might be put to shame. And marvel not if God showed so great earnestness in our cause: for it was with care on the part of him who did us wrong that the plot was laid against us; it is with forethought on the part of our Maker that we are saved. And he, that evil charmer, framing his new device of sin against our race, drew along his serpent train, a disguise worthy of his own intent, entering in his impurity into what was like himself — dwelling, earthly and mundane as he was in will, in that creeping thing. But Christ, the repairer of his evil-doing, assumes manhood in its fullness, and saves man, and becomes the type and figure of us all, to sanctify the first-fruits of every action, and leave to His servants no doubt in their zeal for the tradition. Baptism, then, is a purification from sins, a remission of trespasses, a cause of renovation and regeneration. By regeneration, understand regeneration conceived in thought, not discerned by bodily sight. For we shall not, according to the Jew Nicodemus and his somewhat dull intelligence, change the old man into a child, nor shall we form anew him who is wrinkled and gray-headed to tenderness and youth, if we bring back the man again into his mother's womb: but we do bring back, by royal grace, him who bears the scars of sin, and has grown old in evil habits, to the innocence of the babe. For as the child new-born is free from accusations and from penalties, so too the child of regeneration has nothing for which to answer, being released by royal bounty from accountability. And this gift it is not the water that bestows (for in that case it were a thing more exalted than all creation), but the command of God, and the visitation of the Spirit that comes sacramentally to set us free. But water serves to express the cleansing. For since we are wont by washing in water to render our body clean when it is soiled by dirt or mud, we therefore apply it also in the sacramental action, and display the spiritual brightness by that which is subject to our senses. Let us however, if it seems well, persevere in enquiring more fully and more minutely concerning Baptism, starting, as from the fountain-head, from the Scriptural declaration, Unless a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. Why are both named, and why is not the Spirit alone accounted sufficient for the completion of Baptism? Man, as we know full well, is compound, not simple: and therefore the cognate and similar medicines are assigned for healing to him who is twofold and conglomerate:– for his visible body, water, the sensible element — for his soul, which we cannot see, the Spirit invisible, invoked by faith, present unspeakably. For the Spirit breathes where He wills, and you hear His voice, but cannot tell whence He comes or whither He goes. He blesses the body that is baptized, and the water that baptizes. Despise not, therefore, the Divine laver, nor think lightly of it, as a common thing, on account of the use of water. For the power that operates is mighty, and wonderful are the things that are wrought thereby. For this holy altar, too, by which I stand, is stone, ordinary in its nature, nowise different from the other slabs of stone that build our houses and adorn our pavements; but seeing that it was consecrated to the service of God, and received the benediction, it is a holy table, an altar undefiled, no longer touched by the hands of all, but of the priests alone, and that with reverence. The bread again is at first common bread, but when the sacramental action consecrates it, it is called, and becomes, the Body of Christ. So with the sacramental oil; so with the wine: though before the benediction they are of little value, each of them, after the sanctification bestowed by the Spirit, has its several operation. The same power of the word, again, also makes the priest venerable and honourable, separated, by the new blessing bestowed upon him, from his community with the mass of men. While but yesterday he was one of the mass, one of the people, he is suddenly rendered a guide, a president, a teacher of righteousness, an instructor in hidden mysteries; and this he does without being at all changed in body or in form; but, while continuing to be in all appearance the man he was before, being, by some unseen power and grace, transformed in respect of his unseen soul to the higher condition. And so there are many things, which if you consider you will see that their appearance is contemptible, but the things they accomplish are mighty: and this is especially the case when you collect from the ancient history instances cognate and similar to the subject of our inquiry. The rod of Moses was a hazel wand. And what is that, but common wood that every hand cuts and carries, and fashions to what use it chooses, and casts as it will into the fire? But when God was pleased to accomplish by that rod those wonders, lofty, and passing the power of language to express, the wood was changed into a serpent. And again, at another time, he smote the waters, and now made the water blood, now made to issue forth a countless brood of frogs: and again he divided the sea, severed to its depths without flowing together again. Likewise the mantle of one of the prophets, though it was but a goat's skin, made Elisha renowned in the whole world. And the wood of the Cross is of saving efficacy for all men, though it is, as I am informed, a piece of a poor tree, less valuable than most trees are. So a bramble bush showed to Moses the manifestation of the presence of God: so the remains of Elisha raised a dead man to life; so clay gave sight to him that was blind from the womb. And all these things, though they were matter without soul or sense, were made the means for the performance of the great marvels wrought by them, when they received the power of God. Now by a similar train of reasoning, water also, though it is nothing else than water, renews the man to spiritual regeneration, when the grace from above hallows it. And if any one answers me again by raising a difficulty, with his questions and doubts, continually asking and inquiring how water and the sacramental act that is performed therein regenerate, I most justly reply to him, Show me the mode of that generation which is after the flesh, and I will explain to you the power of regeneration in the soul. You will say perhaps, by way of giving an account of the matter, It is the cause of the seed which makes the man. Learn then from us in return, that hallowed water cleanses and illuminates the man. And if you again object to me your How? I shall more vehemently cry in answer, How does the fluid and formless substance become a man? and so the argument as it advances will be exercised on everything through all creation. How does heaven exist? How earth? How sea? How every single thing? For everywhere men's reasoning, perplexed in the attempt at discovery, falls back upon this syllable how, as those who cannot walk fall back upon a seat. To speak concisely, everywhere the power of God and His operation are incomprehensible and incapable of being reduced to rule, easily producing whatever He wills, while concealing from us the minute knowledge of His operation. Hence also the blessed David, applying his mind to the magnificence of creation, and filled with perplexed wonder in his soul, spoke that verse which is sung by all, O Lord, how manifold are Your works: in wisdom have You made them all. The wisdom he perceived: but the art of the wisdom he could not discover. Let us then leave the task of searching into what is beyond human power, and seek rather that which shows signs of being partly within our comprehension:– what is the reason why the cleansing is effected by water? And to what purpose are the three immersions received? That which the fathers taught, and which our mind has received and assented to, is as follows:– We recognize four elements, of which the world is composed, which every one knows even if their names are not spoken; but if it is well, for the sake of the more simple, to tell you their names, they are fire and air, earth and water. Now our God and Saviour, in fulfilling the Dispensation for our sakes, went beneath the fourth of these, the earth, that He might raise up life from thence. And we in receiving Baptism, in imitation of our Lord and Teacher and Guide, are not indeed buried in the earth (for this is the shelter of the body that is entirely dead, covering the infirmity and decay of our nature), but coming to the element akin to earth, to water, we conceal ourselves in that as the Saviour did in the earth: and by doing this thrice we represent for ourselves that grace of the Resurrection which was wrought in three days: and this we do, not receiving the sacrament in silence, but while there are spoken over us the Names of the Three Sacred Persons on Whom we believed, in Whom we also hope, from Whom comes to us both the fact of our present and the fact of our future existence. It may be you are offended, you who contendest boldly against the glory of the Spirit, and that you grudge to the Spirit that veneration wherewith He is reverenced by the godly. Leave off contending with me: resist, if you can, those words of the Lord which gave to men the rule of the Baptismal invocation. What says the Lord's command? Baptizing them in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost Matthew 28:19. How in the Name of the Father? Because He is the primal cause of all things. How in the Name of the Son? Because He is the Maker of the Creation. How in the Name of the Holy Ghost? Because He is the power perfecting all. We bow ourselves therefore before the Father, that we may be sanctified: before the Son also we bow, that the same end may be fulfilled: we bow also before the Holy Ghost, that we may be made what He is in fact and in Name. There is not a distinction in the sanctification, in the sense that the Father sanctifies more, the Son less, the Holy Spirit in a less degree than the other Two. Why then do you divide the Three Persons into fragments of different natures, and make Three Gods, unlike one to another, while from all thou dost receive one and the same grace?

As examples always make an argument more vivid to the hearers, I propose to instruct the minds of the blasphemers by an illustration, explaining great matters that are invisible to the senses by means of earthly and lowly ones. Suppose you were suffering the misfortune of captivity among enemies, living in bondage and misery, groaning for the freedom you once had—and suddenly three men, who were notable men and citizens in the country of your tyrannical masters, set you free from the constraint upon you, paying your ransom equally and dividing the cost in equal shares among themselves. Would you not then, having received this favor, regard all three alike as benefactors and repay the ransom to them in equal shares, since the trouble and cost on your behalf were common to them all—that is, if you were a fair judge of the benefit done to you? We may see this much from the illustration, since our aim at present is not to give a strict account of the Faith. Let us return to the present season and to the subject it sets before us.

As, however, examples always render an argument more vivid to the hearers, I propose to instruct the mind of the blasphemers by an illustration, explaining, by means of earthly and lowly matters, those matters which are great, and invisible to the senses. If it befell you to be enduring the misfortune of captivity among enemies, to be in bondage and in misery, to be groaning for that ancient freedom which thou once had — and if all at once three men, who were notable men and citizens in the country of your tyrannical masters, set you free from the constraint that lay upon you, giving your ransom equally, and dividing the charges of the money in equal shares among themselves, would you not then, meeting with this favour, look upon the three alike as benefactors, and make repayment of the ransom to them in equal shares, as the trouble and the cost on your behalf was common to them all — if, that is, thou were a fair judge of the benefit done to you? This we may see, so far as illustration goes, for our aim at present is not to render a strict account of the Faith. Let us return to the present season, and to the subject it sets before us.

I find that not only do the Gospels, written after the Crucifixion, proclaim the grace of Baptism, but even before the Incarnation of our Lord, the ancient Scripture everywhere prefigured the image of our regeneration. It did not clearly reveal its form, but foreshadowed, in obscure sayings, the love of God for humanity. And just as the Lamb was proclaimed in advance, and the Cross was foretold in advance, so too was Baptism shown forth through action and through word. Let us recall its types to those who love good thoughts, for the festival season necessarily demands their remembrance.

I find that not only do the Gospels, written after the Crucifixion, proclaim the grace of Baptism, but, even before the Incarnation of our Lord, the ancient Scripture everywhere prefigured the likeness of our regeneration; not clearly manifesting its form, but fore-showing, in dark sayings, the love of God to man. And as the Lamb was proclaimed by anticipation, and the Cross was foretold by anticipation, so, too, was Baptism shown forth by action and by word. Let us recall its types to those who love good thoughts — for the festival season of necessity demands their recollection.

Hagar, Abraham's servant (whom Paul interprets allegorically when reasoning with the Galatians), was sent away from her master's house because of Sarah's anger—for lawful wives find it hard to bear a servant who is under suspicion regarding her master. She was wandering in a desolate land with her baby Ishmael at her breast. When she was desperate for the necessities of life, and was herself near death, and her child even more so because the water in the skin was gone (since it was impossible that the Synagogue, which once lived among the symbolic representations of the eternal Fountain, should have everything needed to sustain life), an angel unexpectedly appears and shows her a well of living water. Drawing from it, she saves Ishmael. Here, then, is a sacramental type: from the very beginning, salvation comes to the one who is perishing through living water—water that did not exist before but was given as a gift through an angel's agency. Later, Isaac—the same one for whose sake Ishmael was driven out with his mother from his father's home—was to be married. Abraham's servant is sent to arrange the match, to secure a bride for his master, and finds Rebekah at the well. A marriage that would produce the lineage of Christ had its beginning and its first covenant in water. Yes, and Isaac himself, when he was managing his flocks, dug wells throughout the desert, which foreigners blocked up and filled in, as a type of all those ungodly people of later times who hindered the grace of Baptism and spoke loudly in their opposition to the truth. Yet the martyrs and the priests overcame them by digging the wells, and the gift of Baptism overflowed the whole world. According to the same meaning of the text, Jacob also, hurrying to seek a bride, met Rachel unexpectedly at the well. A great stone lay upon the well, which a crowd of shepherds would roll away when they gathered together, and then they gave water to themselves and their flocks. But Jacob alone rolls away the stone and waters his bride's flocks. This is, I think, a mysterious saying, a shadow of what was to come. For what is the stone that is laid there but Christ Himself? For Isaiah says of Him, And I will lay in the foundations of Sion a costly stone, precious, elect; and Daniel likewise says, A stone was cut out without hands—that is, Christ was born without a man. For just as it is new and marvelous that a stone should be cut from the rock without a stone-cutter or stone-cutting tools, so it is beyond all wonder that an offspring should appear from an unmarried Virgin. The spiritual stone, Christ, was lying upon the well, concealing in the depths and in mystery the laver of regeneration, which needed much time—like a long rope—to bring it to light. And no one rolled away the stone except Israel, who is the mind seeing God. But he both draws up the water and gives drink to Rachel's sheep; that is, he reveals the hidden mystery and gives living water to the flock of the Church. Add to this also the story of Jacob's three rods. For from the time when the three rods were placed by the well, Laban the polytheist from then on became poor, and Jacob became rich and wealthy in herds. Now let Laban represent the devil, and Jacob represent Christ. For after the institution of Baptism, Christ took away all of Satan's flock and Himself grew rich. Again, the great Moses, when he was a beautiful child still nursing, fell under the general and cruel decree that the hard-hearted Pharaoh made against the male children and was placed on the banks of the river—not naked, but laid in an ark, for it was fitting that the Law should symbolically be enclosed in a container. And he was placed near the water, for the Law and those daily sprinklings of the Hebrews, which were a little later to be made clear in the perfect and marvelous Baptism, are close to grace. Again, according to the understanding of the inspired Paul, the people themselves, by passing through the Red Sea, proclaimed the good news of salvation by water. The people passed over, and the Egyptian king with his army was swallowed up, and through these events this Sacrament was foretold. For even now, whenever the people is in the water of regeneration, fleeing from Egypt, from the burden of sin, it is set free and saved; but the devil with his own servants (I mean, of course, the spirits of evil) is choked with grief and perishes, considering the salvation of humanity to be his own misfortune.

Hagar, the handmaid of Abraham (whom Paul treats allegorically in reasoning with the Galatians), being sent forth from her master's house by the anger of Sarah — for a servant suspected in regard to her master is a hard thing for lawful wives to bear — was wandering in desolation to a desolate land with her babe Ishmael at her breast. And when she was in straits for the needs of life, and was herself near unto death, and her child yet more sore for the water in the skin was spent (since it was not possible that the Synagogue, she who once dwelt among the figures of the perennial Fountain, should have all that was needed to support life), an angel unexpectedly appears, and shows her a well of living water, and drawing thence, she saves Ishmael. Behold, then, a sacramental type: how from the very first it is by the means of living water that salvation comes to him that was perishing — water that was not before, but was given as a boon by an angel's means. Again, at a later time, Isaac — the same for whose sake Ishmael was driven with his mother from his father's home — was to be wedded. Abraham's servant is sent to make the match, so as to secure a bride for his master, and finds Rebekah at the well: and a marriage that was to produce the race of Christ had its beginning and its first covenant in water. Yes, and Isaac himself also, when he was ruling his flocks, dug wells at all parts of the desert, which the aliens stopped and filled up, for a type of all those impious men of later days who hindered the grace of Baptism, and talked loudly in their struggle against the truth. Yet the martyrs and the priests overcame them by digging the wells, and the gift of Baptism over-flowed the whole world. According to the same force of the text, Jacob also, hastening to seek a bride, met Rachel unexpectedly at the well. And a great stone lay upon the well, which a multitude of shepherds were wont to roll away when they came together, and then gave water to themselves and to their flocks. But Jacob alone rolls away the stone, and waters the flocks of his spouse. The thing is, I think, a dark saying, a shadow of what should come. For what is the stone that is laid but Christ Himself? For of Him Isaiah says, And I will lay in the foundations of Sion a costly stone, precious, elect: and Daniel likewise, A stone was cut out without hands, that is, Christ was born without a man. For as it is a new and marvellous thing that a stone should be cut out of the rock without a hewer or stone-cutting tools, so it is a thing beyond all wonder that an offspring should appear from an unwedded Virgin. There was lying, then, upon the well the spiritual stone, Christ, concealing in the deep and in mystery the laver of regeneration which needed much time — as it were a long rope — to bring it to light. And none rolled away the stone save Israel, who is mind seeing God. But he both draws up the water and gives drink to the sheep of Rachel; that is, he reveals the hidden mystery, and gives living water to the flock of the Church. Add to this also the history of the three rods of Jacob. For from the time when the three rods were laid by the well, Laban the polytheist thenceforth became poor, and Jacob became rich and wealthy in herds. Now let Laban be interpreted of the devil, and Jacob of Christ. For after the institution of Baptism Christ took away all the flock of Satan and Himself grew rich. Again, the great Moses, when he was a goodly child, and yet at the breast, falling under the general and cruel decree which the hard-hearted Pharaoh made against the men-children, was exposed on the banks of the river — not naked, but laid in an ark, for it was fitting that the Law should typically be enclosed in a coffer. And he was laid near the water; for the Law, and those daily sprinklings of the Hebrews which were a little later to be made plain in the perfect and marvellous Baptism, are near to grace. Again, according to the view of the inspired Paul, the people itself, by passing through the Red Sea, proclaimed the good tidings of salvation by water. The people passed over, and the Egyptian king with his host was engulfed, and by these actions this Sacrament was foretold. For even now, whenever the people is in the water of regeneration, fleeing from Egypt, from the burden of sin, it is set free and saved; but the devil with his own servants (I mean, of course, the spirits of evil), is choked with grief, and perishes, deeming the salvation of men to be his own misfortune.

Even these examples might be enough to confirm our present position, but those who love good thoughts must not neglect what follows. The Hebrew people, as we learn, after many sufferings and after completing their weary journey through the desert, did not enter the promised land until they had first crossed the Jordan with Joshua as their guide and the pilot of their life. But it is clear that Joshua, who set up the twelve stones in the stream, was anticipating the coming of the twelve disciples, the ministers of Baptism. Again, that marvelous sacrifice of the old Tishbite that surpasses all human understanding—what else does it do but prefigure in action the Faith in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and redemption? For when all the Hebrew people had trampled on the religion of their fathers and fallen into the error of polytheism, and their king Ahab was deluded by idolatry, with Jezebel (of ill-omened name) as the wicked partner of his life and the vile prompter of his impiety, the prophet, filled with the grace of the Spirit, came to meet Ahab and opposed the priests of Baal in a marvelous and wondrous contest before the king and all the people. By proposing to them the task of sacrificing the bull without fire, he showed them in a ridiculous and wretched state, vainly praying and crying aloud to gods that did not exist. At last, himself invoking his own true God, he accomplished the proposed test with further exaggerations and additions. For he did not simply bring down fire from heaven upon the wood by prayer when it was dry, but urged and commanded the attendants to bring abundant water. And when he had poured out the barrels three times upon the split wood, he kindled fire out of the water by his prayer, so that through the opposition of the elements working together in friendly cooperation, he might show with overwhelming force the power of his own God. Now in this wondrous sacrifice, Elijah clearly proclaimed to us the sacramental rite of Baptism that would later be instituted. For the fire was kindled by water poured out three times, so that it is clearly shown that where the mystic water is, there is the kindling, warm, and fiery Spirit that burns up the ungodly and illuminates the faithful. Yes, and again his disciple Elisha, when Naaman the Syrian, who was diseased with leprosy, came to him as a suppliant, cleanses the sick man by washing him in the Jordan, clearly indicating what was to come, both by the use of water generally and by the dipping in the river in particular. For the Jordan alone among rivers, receiving in itself the first-fruits of sanctification and benediction, conveyed in its channel to the whole world, as if from some fountain in the type it provided, the grace of Baptism. These then are indications in deed and act of regeneration by Baptism. Let us now consider the prophecies of it in words and language. Isaiah cried out saying, Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean, put away evil from your souls; and David, Draw near to Him and be enlightened, and your faces shall not be ashamed. And Ezekiel, writing more clearly and plainly than both of them, says, And I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be cleansed: from all your filthiness, and from all your idols, will I cleanse you. A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I give you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a heart of flesh, and my Spirit will I put within you. Most clearly also does Zechariah prophesy of Joshua, who was clothed with the filthy garment (that is, the flesh of a servant, even ours), and stripping him of his ill-favored clothing adorns him with clean and fair apparel, teaching us by the figurative illustration that truly in the Baptism of Jesus all of us, putting off our sins like some poor and patched garment, are clothed in the holy and most fair garment of regeneration. And where shall we place that oracle of Isaiah, which cries to the wilderness, Be glad, O thirsty wilderness: let the desert rejoice and blossom as a lily: and the desolate places of Jordan shall blossom and shall rejoice? For it is clear that he is not proclaiming good news of joy to places without soul or sense, but he speaks, by the figure of the desert, of the soul that is parched and unadorned, just as David also does when he says, My soul is unto You as a thirsty land, and, My soul is thirsty for the mighty, for the living God. So again the Lord says in the Gospels, If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink; and to the woman of Samaria, Whosoever drinks of this water shall thirst again: but whosoever drinks of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst. And the excellency of Carmel is given to the soul that resembles the desert, that is, the grace bestowed through the Spirit. For since Elijah dwelt in Carmel, and the mountain became famous and renowned by the virtue of the one who dwelt there, and since moreover John the Baptist, illustrious in the spirit of Elijah, sanctified the Jordan, therefore the prophet foretold that the excellency of Carmel should be given to the river. And the glory of Lebanon, from the likeness of its lofty trees, he transfers to the river. For just as great Lebanon provides sufficient cause for wonder in the very trees it brings forth and nourishes, so is the Jordan glorified by regenerating people and planting them in the Paradise of God; and of them, as the words of the Psalmist say, ever blooming and bearing the foliage of virtues, the leaf shall not wither, and God shall be glad, receiving their fruit in due season, rejoicing, like a good planter, in his own works. And the inspired David, also foretelling the voice which the Father uttered from heaven upon the Son at His Baptism, so that he might lead the hearers, who until then had looked upon that lowly state of His Humanity which was perceptible by their senses, to the dignity of the physis (nature) that belongs to the Godhead, wrote in his book that passage, The voice of the Lord is upon the waters, the voice of the Lord in majesty. But here we must end the testimonies from the Divine Scriptures, for the discourse would extend to infinite length if one should seek to select every passage in detail and set them forth in a single book.

Even these instances might be enough to confirm our present position; but the lover of good thoughts must yet not neglect what follows. The people of the Hebrews, as we learn, after many sufferings, and after accomplishing their weary course in the desert, did not enter the land of promise until it had first been brought, with Joshua for its guide and the pilot of its life, to the passage of the Jordan. But it is clear that Joshua also, who set up the twelve stones in the stream, was anticipating the coming of the twelve disciples, the ministers of Baptism. Again, that marvellous sacrifice of the old Tishbite, that passes all human understanding, what else does it do but prefigure in action the Faith in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and redemption? For when all the people of the Hebrews had trodden underfoot the religion of their fathers, and fallen into the error of polytheism, and their king Ahab was deluded by idolatry, with Jezebel, of ill-omened name, as the wicked partner of his life, and the vile prompter of his impiety, the prophet, filled with the grace of the Spirit, coming to a meeting with Ahab, withstood the priests of Baal in a marvellous and wondrous contest in the sight of the king and all the people; and by proposing to them the task of sacrificing the bullock without fire, he displayed them in a ridiculous and wretched plight, vainly praying and crying aloud to gods that were not. At last, himself invoking his own and the true God, he accomplished the test proposed with further exaggerations and additions. For he did not simply by prayer bring down the fire from heaven upon the wood when it was dry, but exhorted and enjoined the attendants to bring abundance of water. And when he had thrice poured out the barrels upon the cleft wood, he kindled at his prayer the fire from out of the water, that by the contrariety of the elements, so concurring in friendly cooperation, he might show with superabundant force the power of his own God. Now herein, by that wondrous sacrifice, Elijah clearly proclaimed to us the sacramental rite of Baptism that should afterwards be instituted. For the fire was kindled by water thrice poured upon it, so that it is clearly shown that where the mystic water is, there is the kindling, warm, and fiery Spirit, that burns up the ungodly, and illuminates the faithful. Yes, and yet again his disciple Elisha, when Naaman the Syrian, who was diseased with leprosy, had come to him as a suppliant, cleanses the sick man by washing him in Jordan, clearly indicating what should come, both by the use of water generally, and by the dipping in the river in particular. For Jordan alone of rivers, receiving in itself the first-fruits of sanctification and benediction, conveyed in its channel to the whole world, as it were from some fount in the type afforded by itself, the grace of Baptism. These then are indications in deed and act of regeneration by Baptism. Let us for the rest consider the prophecies of it in words and language. Isaiah cried saying, Wash you, make you clean, put away evil from your souls; and David, Draw near to Him and be enlightened, and your faces shall not be ashamed. And Ezekiel, writing more clearly and plainly than them both, says, And I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be cleansed: from all your filthiness, and from all your idols, will I cleanse you. A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I give you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh, and my Spirit will I put within you. Most manifestly also does Zechariah prophesy of Joshua, who was clothed with the filthy garment (to wit, the flesh of a servant, even ours), and stripping him of his ill-favoured raiment adorns him with the clean and fair apparel; teaching us by the figurative illustration that verily in the Baptism of Jesus all we, putting off our sins like some poor and patched garment, are clothed in the holy and most fair garment of regeneration. And where shall we place that oracle of Isaiah, which cries to the wilderness, Be glad, O thirsty wilderness: let the desert rejoice and blossom as a lily: and the desolate places of Jordan shall blossom and shall rejoice? For it is clear that it is not to places without soul or sense that he proclaims the good tidings of joy: but he speaks, by the figure of the desert, of the soul that is parched and unadorned, even as David also, when he says, My soul is unto You as a thirsty land, and, My soul is thirsty for the mighty, for the living God. So again the Lord says in the Gospels, If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink; and to the woman of Samaria, Whosoever drinks of this water shall thirst again: but whosoever drinks of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst John 4:13-14. And the excellency of Carmel Isaiah 35:2 is given to the soul that bears the likeness to the desert, that is, the grace bestowed through the Spirit. For since Elijah dwelt in Carmel, and the mountain became famous and renowned by the virtue of him who dwelt there, and since moreover John the Baptist, illustrious in the spirit of Elijah, sanctified the Jordan, therefore the prophet foretold that the excellency of Carmel should be given to the river. And the glory of Lebanon Isaiah 35:2, from the similitude of its lofty trees, he transfers to the river. For as great Lebanon presents a sufficient cause of wonder in the very trees which it brings forth and nourishes, so is the Jordan glorified by regenerating men and planting them in the Paradise of God: and of them, as the words of the Psalmist say, ever blooming and bearing the foliage of virtues, the leaf shall not wither, and God shall be glad, receiving their fruit in due season, rejoicing, like a good planter, in his own works. And the inspired David, foretelling also the voice which the Father uttered from heaven upon the Son at His Baptism, that He might lead the hearers, who till then had looked upon that low estate of His Humanity which was perceptible by their senses, to the dignity of nature that belongs to the Godhead, wrote in his book that passage, The voice of the Lord is upon the waters, the voice of the Lord in majesty. But here we must make an end of the testimonies from the Divine Scriptures: for the discourse would extend to an infinite length if one should seek to select every passage in detail, and set them forth in a single book.

Everyone who rejoices in the gift of regeneration and boasts in that saving renewal should show me, after receiving sacramental grace, the change in behavior that ought to follow it. Make known through the purity of your conduct the difference produced by your transformation for the better. Nothing visible before our eyes has changed: the body's characteristics remain the same, and the form of visible nature is in no way different. But we certainly need some clear proof by which we can recognize the newly born person, distinguishing the new from the old by evident signs. I think these are found in the deliberate movements of the soul, by which it separates itself from its old habitual life and enters a new way of living. This will clearly show those who know it that the person has become something different from their former self, bearing no mark by which the old self was recognized. If you are persuaded by me and keep my words as a law, this is the way of transformation. The person who before baptism was promiscuous, greedy, seizing others' possessions, abusive, a liar, a slanderer, and everything related to these things and resulting from them—let him now become disciplined, temperate, content with his own possessions and sharing them with those in poverty, truthful, courteous, friendly—in short, following every praiseworthy course of conduct. Just as darkness is driven away by light and black disappears as whiteness spreads over it, so the old man also disappears when adorned with works of righteousness. You see how Zacchaeus also killed the tax collector in himself by changing his life, making fourfold restitution to those he had wronged, and dividing the rest with the poor—the treasure he had previously obtained by wicked means from the poor he oppressed. The Evangelist Matthew, another tax collector in the same business as Zacchaeus, immediately after his call changed his life as if it were a mask. Paul was a persecutor, but after receiving grace became an apostle, bearing the weight of his chains for Christ's sake as compensation and repentance for those unjust bonds he once received from the Law and used against the Gospel. This is how you ought to be in your regeneration: this is how you ought to erase your sinful habits; this is how the sons of God ought to conduct themselves, for after receiving grace we are called His children. Therefore we ought to examine closely our Father's characteristics, so that by shaping and molding ourselves to the likeness of our Father, we may appear as true children of Him who calls us to adoption according to grace. The illegitimate and false son who betrays his father's nobility through his deeds is a terrible disgrace. This is also why, I think, the Lord Himself, establishing for us in the Gospels the rules of our life, uses these words to His disciples: Do good to those who hate you, pray for those who mistreat you and persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven, for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. He says they are sons when they are fashioned in their own patterns of thought toward loving-kindness for their fellow human beings, according to the likeness of the Father's goodness.

But do ye all, as many as are made glad, by the gift of regeneration, and make your boast of that saving renewal, show me, after the sacramental grace, the change in your ways that should follow it, and make known by the purity of your conversation the difference effected by your transformation for the better. For of those things which are before our eyes nothing is altered: the characteristics of the body remain unchanged, and the mould of the visible nature is nowise different. But there is certainly need of some manifest proof, by which we may recognize the new-born man, discerning by clear tokens the new from the old. And these I think are to be found in the intentional motions of the soul, whereby it separates itself from its old customary life, and enters on a newer way of conversation, and will clearly teach those acquainted with it that it has become something different from its former self, bearing in it no token by which the old self was recognized. This, if you be persuaded by me, and keep my words as a law, is the mode of the transformation. The man that was before Baptism was wanton, covetous, grasping at the goods of others, a reviler, a liar, a slanderer, and all that is kindred with these things, and consequent from them. Let him now become orderly, sober, content with his own possessions, and imparting from them to those in poverty, truthful, courteous, affable — in a word, following every laudable course of conduct. For as darkness is dispelled by light, and black disappears as whiteness is spread over it, so the old man also disappears when adorned with the works of righteousness. You see how Zacchæus also by the change of his life slew the publican, making fourfold restitution to those whom he had unjustly damaged, and the rest he divided with the poor — the treasure which he had before got by ill means from the poor whom he oppressed. The Evangelist Matthew, another publican, of the same business with Zacchæus, at once after his call changed his life as if it had been a mask. Paul was a persecutor, but after the grace bestowed on him an Apostle, bearing the weight of his fetters for Christ's sake, as an act of amends and repentance for those unjust bonds which he once received from the Law, and bore for use against the Gospel. Such ought you to be in your regeneration: so ought you to blot out your habits that tend to sin; so ought the sons of God to have their conversation: for after the grace bestowed we are called His children. And therefore we ought narrowly to scrutinize our Father's characteristics, that by fashioning and framing ourselves to the likeness of our Father, we may appear true children of Him Who calls us to the adoption according to grace. For the bastard and the supposititious son, who belies his father's nobility in his deeds, is a sad reproach. Therefore also, methinks, it is that the Lord Himself, laying down for us in the Gospels the rules of our life, uses these words to His disciples, Do good to them that hate you, pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you; that you may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for He makes His sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For then He says they are sons when in their own modes of thought they are fashioned in loving kindness towards their kindred, after the likeness of the Father's goodness.

Therefore, the devil plots even more fiercely against us after we receive the dignity of adoption. He wastes away with an envious gaze when he sees the beauty of the newly born person earnestly striving toward that heavenly city from which he himself fell. He stirs up fiery temptations against us, eagerly seeking to strip us of this second adornment just as he did our former clothing. But when we become aware of his attacks, we should repeat to ourselves the apostolic words: "As many of us as were baptized into Christ were baptized into His death." Now if we have been conformed to His death, then sin within us is surely a corpse, pierced through by the spear of baptism, just as that fornicator was run through by the zealous Phinehas. Therefore, flee from us, ill-omened one! For you are seeking to plunder a corpse, one long ago joined to you, one who long since lost all feeling for pleasures. A corpse is not attracted to bodies, a corpse is not captivated by wealth, a corpse does not slander, a corpse does not lie, does not snatch what belongs to others, does not insult those it encounters. My way of life is directed toward another life: I have learned to despise the things that are in the world, to pass by earthly things, to hasten toward heavenly things, just as Paul clearly testifies that the world is crucified to him and he to the world. These are the words of a truly regenerated soul: these are the words of the newly baptized person who remembers the profession made to God when the sacrament was administered, promising to despise all torment and all pleasure alike for the sake of love toward Him.

Therefore, also, it is that after the dignity of adoption the devil plots more vehemently against us, pining away with envious glance, when he beholds the beauty of the new-born man, earnestly tending towards that heavenly city, from which he fell: and he raises up against us fiery temptations, seeking earnestly to despoil us of that second adornment, as he did of our former array. But when we are aware of his attacks, we ought to repeat to ourselves the apostolic words, As many of us as were baptized into Christ were baptized into His death Romans 6:3. Now if we have been conformed to His death, sin henceforth in us is surely a corpse, pierced through by the javelin of Baptism, as that fornicator was thrust through by the zealous Phinehas. Numbers 25:7-8 Flee therefore from us, ill-omened one! For it is a corpse you seek to despoil, one long ago joined to you, one who long since lost his senses for pleasures. A corpse is not enamoured of bodies, a corpse is not captivated by wealth, a corpse slanders not, a corpse lies not, snatches not at what is not its own, reviles not those who encounter it. My way of living is regulated for another life: I have learned to despise the things that are in the world, to pass by the things of earth, to hasten to the things of heaven, even as Paul expressly testifies, that the world is crucified to him, and he to the world. These are the words of a soul truly regenerated: these are the utterances of the newly- baptized man, who remembers his own profession, which he made to God when the sacrament was administered to him, promising that he would despise for the sake of love towards Him all torment and all pleasure alike.

We have now spoken enough about the holy subject of this day, which the turning year brings to us at set times. For what remains, we would do well to close our discourse by turning to the loving Giver of so great a gift, offering Him a few words in return for great things. For You truly, O Lord, are the pure and eternal fountain of goodness, who justly turned away from us and in loving kindness had mercy on us. You hated, and were reconciled; You cursed, and blessed; You banished us from Paradise, and called us back; You stripped off the fig leaves, an unseemly covering, and put upon us a costly garment; You opened the prison, and released the condemned; You sprinkled us with clean water, and cleansed us from our filthiness. No longer will Adam be ashamed when called by You, nor hide himself, convicted by his conscience, cowering in the thicket of Paradise. Nor will the flaming sword encircle Paradise and make the entrance inaccessible to those who draw near; but all is turned to joy for us who were the heirs of sin: Paradise, yes, heaven itself may be walked by man; and the creation, in the world and above the world, that once was at odds with itself, is knit together in friendship; and we men are made to join in the angels' song, offering the worship of their praise to God. For all these things then let us sing to God that hymn of joy, which lips touched by the Spirit long ago sang loudly: Let my soul be joyful in the Lord, for He has clothed me with a garment of salvation, and has put upon me a robe of gladness; as on a bridegroom He has set a mitre upon me, and as a bride has He adorned me with fair array. And truly the Adorner of the bride is Christ, who is, and was, and shall be, blessed now and for evermore. Amen.

And now we have spoken sufficiently for the holy subject of the day, which the circling year brings to us at appointed periods. We shall do well in what remains to end our discourse by turning it to the loving Giver of so great a boon, offering to Him a few words as the requital of great things. For You verily, O Lord, are the pure and eternal fount of goodness, Who justly turned away from us, and in loving kindness had mercy upon us. You hated, and were reconciled; You cursed, and blessed; You banished us from Paradise, and recalled us; You stripped off the fig-tree leaves, an unseemly covering, and put upon us a costly garment; You opened the prison, and released the condemned; You sprinkled us with clean water, and cleanse us from our filthiness. No longer shall Adam be confounded when called by You, nor hide himself, convicted by his conscience, cowering in the thicket of Paradise. Nor shall the flaming sword encircle Paradise around, and make the entrance inaccessible to those that draw near; but all is turned to joy for us that were the heirs of sin: Paradise, yea, heaven itself may be trodden by man: and the creation, in the world and above the world, that once was at variance with itself, is knit together in friendship: and we men are made to join in the angels' song, offering the worship of their praise to God. For all these things then let us sing to God that hymn of joy, which lips touched by the Spirit long ago sang loudly: Let my soul be joyful in the Lord: for He has clothed me with a garment of salvation, and has put upon me a robe of gladness: as on a bridegroom He has set a mitre upon me, and as a bride has He adorned me with fair array. And verily the Adorner of the bride is Christ, Who is, and was, and shall be, blessed now and for evermore. Amen.

The Trinity.

The Trinity.

The belief in God rests on the skill and wisdom displayed in the order of the world. The belief in the unity of God rests on the perfection that must belong to Him in power, goodness, wisdom, and similar attributes. However, the Christian who fights against polytheism must be careful not to fall unconsciously into Judaism while arguing against Greek paganism. For God has a Logos—otherwise He would be without reason. And this Logos cannot be merely an attribute of God. We are led to a higher understanding of the Logos by recognizing that just as God is greater than we are, all His characteristics must also be higher than ours. Our logos is limited and temporary, but the existence of the Divine Logos must be indestructible. At the same time it must be living, since what is rational cannot be lifeless like a stone. It must also have an independent life, not a derived life, otherwise it would lose its simplicity. And being living, it must also have the faculty of will. This will of the Logos must be matched by his power, for a mixture of choice and inability would again destroy the simplicity. His will, being Divine, must also be good. From this ability and will to act follows the realization of the good—hence the bringing into existence of the wisely and skillfully ordered world. But since the logical concept of the Word is in a certain sense a relative one, it follows that together with the Word, He who speaks it—that is, the Father of the Word—must be recognized as existing. Thus the mystery of the faith avoids both the absurdity of Jewish monotheism and that of pagan polytheism. On the one hand, we say that the Word has life and activity. On the other hand, we affirm that we find in the Logos, whose existence is derived from the Father, all the attributes of the Father's nature.

Prologue and Chapter 1.– The belief in God rests on the art and wisdom displayed in the order of the world: the belief in the Unity of God, on the perfection that must belong to Him in respect of power, goodness, wisdom, etc. Still, the Christian who combats polytheism has need of care lest in contending against Hellenism he should fall unconsciously into Judaism. For God has a Logos: else He would be without reason. And this Logos cannot be merely an attribute of God. We are led to a more exalted conception of the Logos by the consideration that in the measure in which God is greater than we, all His predicates must also be higher than those which belong to us. Our logos is limited and transient; but the subsistence of the Divine Logos must be indestructible; and at the same time living, since the rational cannot be lifeless, like a stone. It must also have an independent life, not a participated life, else it would lose its simplicity; and, as living, it must also have the faculty of will. This will of the Logos must be equalled by his power: for a mixture of choice and impotence would, again, destroy the simplicity. His will, as being Divine, must be also good. From this ability and will to work there follows the realization of the good; hence the bringing into existence of the wisely and artfully adjusted world. But since, still further, the logical conception of the Word is in a certain sense a relative one, it follows that together with the Word He Who speaks it, i.e. the Father of the Word, must be recognized as existing. Thus the mystery of the faith avoids equally the absurdity of Jewish monotheism, and that of heathen polytheism. On the one hand, we say that the Word has life and activity; on the other, we affirm that we find in the Λόγος, whose existence is derived from the Father, all the attributes of the Father's nature.

Chapter 2.– Human breath, which is simply fire that has been drawn in and then expelled (that is, something foreign to us), serves as an analogy to demonstrate both that the Divine Spirit shares in the ousia of God and that it possesses independent existence.

Chapter II. — By the analogy of human breath, which is nothing but inhaled and exhaled fire, i.e. an object foreign to us, is demonstrated the community of the Divine Spirit with the essence of God, and yet the independence of Its existence.

Chapter III. — From Jewish doctrine, then, the unity of the Divine nature has been retained; from Hellenism, the distinction into hypostases.

Chapter III. — From the Jewish doctrine, then, the unity of the Divine nature has been retained: from Hellenism the distinction into hypostases.

Chapter IV. — The Jew convicted from Scripture.

Chapter IV.– The Jew convicted from Scripture.

Reasonableness of the Incarnation.

Reasonableness of the Incarnation.

God created the world through His reason and wisdom, for He could not have acted irrationally in that work. But His reason and wisdom are not to be understood as a spoken word or merely as the possession of knowledge; rather, as shown above, they are a personal and willing power. If the entire world was created by this second Divine hypostasis, then certainly man was also created in this way. Yet this was not done out of any necessity, but from overflowing love, so that there might exist a being who could share in the Divine perfections. If man was to be capable of receiving these perfections, his nature had to contain an element related to God, and particularly, he had to be immortal. So man was created in the image of God. He could not therefore lack the gifts of freedom, independence, and self-determination. His participation in the Divine gifts was accordingly made dependent on his virtue. Because of this freedom, he could choose evil, which cannot originate in the Divine will but only within ourselves, where it arises as a turning away from good and thus a lack of it. Vice is opposed to virtue only as the absence of something better. Since everything created is subject to change, it was possible that one of the created spirits should first turn his gaze away from the good and become envious, and that from this envy a tendency toward evil should arise, which would naturally open the way for all other evils. He deceived the first human beings into the foolishness of turning away from goodness by disrupting the divinely ordered harmony between their sensuous and intellectual natures, and by craftily corrupting their wills with evil.

Chapters V. and VI.– God created the world by His reason and wisdom; for He cannot have proceeded irrationally in that work; but His reason and wisdom are, as above shown, not to be conceived as a spoken word, or as the mere possession of knowledge, but as a personal and willing potency. If the entire world was created by this second Divine hypostasis, then certainly was man also thus created; yet not in view of any necessity, but from superabounding love, that there might exist a being who should participate in the Divine perfections. If man was to be receptive of these, it was necessary that his nature should contain an element akin to God; and, in particular, that he should be immortal. Thus, then, man was created in the image of God. He could not therefore be without the gifts of freedom, independence, self-determination; and his participation in the Divine gifts was consequently made dependent on his virtue. Owing to this freedom he could decide in favour of evil, which cannot have its origin in the Divine will, but only in our inner selves, where it arises in the form of a deviation from good, and so a privation of it. Vice is opposed to virtue only as the absence of the better. Since, then, all that is created is subject to change, it was possible that, in the first instance, one of the created spirits should turn his eye away from the good, and become envious, and that from this envy should arise a leaning towards badness, which should, in natural sequence, prepare the way for all other evil. He seduced the first men into the folly of turning away from goodness, by disturbing the Divinely ordered harmony between their sensuous and intellectual natures; and guilefully tainting their wills with evil.

Chapters VII. and VIII. — God did not leave man uncreated because He foreknew the evil that would result from man's creation. It was better to bring sinners back to their original grace through repentance and physical suffering than not to create man at all. Raising up the fallen was a work fitting for the Giver of life, who is the wisdom and power of God, and for this purpose He became man.

Chapters VII. and VIII. — God did not, on account of His foreknowledge of the evil that would result from man's creation, leave man uncreated; for it was better to bring back sinners to original grace by the way of repentance and physical suffering than not to create man at all. The raising up of the fallen was a work befitting the Giver of life, Who is the wisdom and power of God; and for this purpose He became man.

Chapter IX. — The Incarnation was not unworthy of Him, because only evil brings degradation.

Chapter IX.– The Incarnation was not unworthy of Him; for only evil brings degradation.

Chapter X.– The objection that the finite cannot contain the infinite, and that therefore human nature could not receive the Divine into itself, rests on the false assumption that the Incarnation of the Word means that God's infinity was contained within the limits of the flesh, as though in a vessel.– Comparison of the flame and wick.

Chapter X.– The objection that the finite cannot contain the infinite, and that therefore the human nature could not receive into itself the Divine, is founded on the false supposition that the Incarnation of the Word means that the infinity of God was contained in the limits of the flesh, as in a vessel.– Comparison of the flame and wick.

For the rest, the way in which the Divine nature was united to the human nature surpasses our power to understand. However, we are not allowed to doubt the fact of that union in Jesus because of the miracles He performed. The supernatural character of those miracles testifies to their Divine origin.

Chapters XI., XII., XIII. — For the rest, the manner in which the Divine nature was united to the human surpasses our power of comprehension; although we are not permitted to doubt the fact of that union in Jesus, on account of the miracles which He wrought. The supernatural character of those miracles bears witness to their Divine origin.

Chapters XIV., XV., XVI., XVII. — The plan of the Incarnation is further explained to show that this method for humanity's salvation was better than a simple command of God's will. Christ took on human weakness, but it was physical weakness, not moral weakness. In other words, the Divine goodness did not change into its opposite, which is only vice. In Him, soul and body were united and then separated according to the natural course of things. But after He had cleansed human life in this way, He reunited them on a larger scale—for everyone and forever—in the Resurrection.

Chapters XIV., XV., XVI., XVII. — The scheme of the Incarnation is still further drawn out, to show that this way for man's salvation was preferable to a single fiat of God's will. Christ took human weakness upon Him; but it was physical, not moral, weakness. In other words the Divine goodness did not change to its opposite, which is only vice. In Him soul and body were united, and then separated, according to the course of nature; but after He had thus purged human life, He reunited them upon a more general scale, for all, and for ever, in the Resurrection.

Chapter XVIII. — Some people accept the end of demon-worship, the Christian martyrdoms, and the destruction of Jerusalem as proofs of the Incarnation.

Chapter XVIII.– The ceasing of demon-worship, the Christian martyrdoms, and the devastation of Jerusalem, are accepted by some as proofs of the Incarnation —

To return, then, to its reasonableness. Whether we consider the goodness, the power, the wisdom, or the justice of God, the Incarnation displays a combination of all these acknowledged attributes. If even one were missing, they would cease to be divine. Therefore, the Incarnation is true to God's perfection.

Chapters XIX., XX.– But not by the Greek and the Jew. To return, then, to its reasonableness. Whether we regard the goodness, the power, the wisdom, or the justice of God, it displays a combination of all these acknowledged attributes, which, if one be wanting, cease to be Divine. It is therefore true to the Divine perfection.

We must remember that humanity was necessarily created subject to change (whether for better or worse). Moral beauty was meant to be the direction in which human free will would move; but then humanity was deceived, to its ruin, by an illusion of that beauty. After we had freely sold ourselves to the deceiver in this way, He who in His goodness sought to restore us to freedom could not, because He was also just, use arbitrary violence to achieve this end. It was therefore necessary that a ransom be paid which would exceed in value that which was being ransomed; and so it was necessary that the Son of God surrender Himself to the power of death. God's justice, then, compelled Him to choose a method of exchange, just as His wisdom was evident in carrying it out.

Chapters XXI., XXII., XXIII. — What, then, is the justice in it? We must remember that man was necessarily created subject to change (to better or to worse). Moral beauty was to be the direction in which his free will was to move; but then he was deceived, to his ruin, by an illusion of that beauty. After we had thus freely sold ourselves to the deceiver, He who of His goodness sought to restore us to liberty could not, because He was just too, for this end have recourse to measures of arbitrary violence. It was necessary therefore that a ransom should be paid, which should exceed in value that which was to be ransomed; and hence it was necessary that the Son of God should surrender Himself to the power of death. God's justice then impelled Him to choose a method of exchange, as His wisdom was seen in executing it.

Chapters XXIV., XXV. — But what about the power? That was displayed more conspicuously in Deity descending to lowliness than in all the natural wonders of the universe. It was like flame being made to stream downwards. Then, after such a birth, Christ conquered death.

Chapters XXIV., XXV. — But how about the power? That was more conspicuously displayed in Deity descending to lowliness, than in all the natural wonders of the universe. It was like flame being made to stream downwards. Then, after such a birth, Christ conquered death.

Chapter XXVI. — A certain deception was indeed practiced upon the Evil one by concealing the Divine nature within the human. But for him, since he was himself a deceiver, it was only just that he should be deceived. The great adversary must himself at last discover that what has been done is just and beneficial, when he too experiences the benefit of the Incarnation. He, as well as humanity, will be purged.

Chapter XXVI. — A certain deception was indeed practised upon the Evil one, by concealing the Divine nature within the human; but for the latter, as himself a deceiver, it was only a just recompense that he should be deceived himself: the great adversary must himself at last find that what has been done is just and salutary, when he also shall experience the benefit of the Incarnation. He, as well as humanity, will be purged.

A patient who is to be healed must be touched, and humanity had to be touched by Christ. Since humanity was not in heaven, it could only be healed through the Incarnation. Besides, it was no more inconsistent with His Divinity to assume a human body than a heavenly body, since all created beings are equally beneath Deity. Even the instruments of human birth are due abundant honor.

Chapters XXVII., XXVIII. — A patient, to be healed, must be touched; and humanity had to be touched by Christ. It was not in heaven; so only through the Incarnation could it be healed.– It was, besides, no more inconsistent with His Divinity to assume a human than a heavenly body; all created beings are on a level beneath Deity. Even abundant honour is due to the instruments of human birth.

Chapters XXIX., XXX., XXXI. — Regarding why the Incarnation was delayed, it was necessary for human corruption to reach its lowest point before the work of salvation could begin. However, the fact that grace through faith has not come to everyone must be attributed to human freedom. If God were to force His way past our resistance by violent means, the moral worth of human actions would be destroyed.

Chapters XXIX., XXX., XXXI. — As to the delay of the Incarnation, it was necessary that human degeneracy should have reached the lowest point, before the work of salvation could enter in. That, however, grace through faith has not come to all must be laid to the account of human freedom; if God were to break down our opposition by violent means, the praise-worthiness of human conduct would be destroyed.

Chapter XXXII. — Even the death on the Cross was sublime, for it was the culminating and necessary point in that plan of Love in which death was to be followed by blessed resurrection for the whole lump of humanity, and the Cross itself has a mystical meaning.

Chapter XXXII. — Even the death on the Cross was sublime: for it was the culminating and necessary point in that scheme of Love in which death was to be followed by blessed resurrection for the whole lump of humanity: and the Cross itself has a mystic meaning.

The Sacraments.

The Sacraments.

Chapters XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI — The saving nature of Baptism depends on three things: Prayer, Water, and Faith. 1. It is shown how Prayer secures the Divine Presence. God is a God of truth, and He has promised to come (as miracles prove that He has already come) if invoked in a particular way. 2. It is shown how the Deity gives life from water. In human generation, even without prayer, He gives life from a small beginning. In a higher generation He transforms matter, not into soul, but into spirit. 3. Human freedom, as shown in faith and repentance, is also necessary for Regeneration. Being dipped three times in the water is our first mortification; coming out of it foreshadows the ease with which the pure shall rise in a blessed resurrection: the whole process is an imitation of Christ.

Chapters XXXIII., XXXIV., XXXV., XXXVI. — The saving nature of Baptism depends on three things; Prayer, Water, and Faith. 1. It is shown how Prayer secures the Divine Presence. God is a God of truth; and He has promised to come (as Miracles prove that He has come already) if invoked in a particular way. 2. It is shown how the Deity gives life from water. In human generation, even without prayer, He gives life from a small beginning. In a higher generation He transforms matter, not into soul, but into spirit. 3. Human freedom, as evinced in faith and repentance, is also necessary to Regeneration. Being thrice dipped in the water is our earliest mortification; coming out of it is a forecast of the ease with which the pure shall rise in a blessed resurrection: the whole process is an imitation of Christ.

Chapter XXXVII. — The Eucharist unites the body to God, just as Baptism unites the soul. Our bodies have received poison and need an antidote, which can only enter through eating and drinking. One Body, which contains the Deity, is this antidote that we receive in this way. But how can it enter whole into each one of the faithful? This requires an illustration. Water gives its own substance to a waterskin. Similarly, nourishment (bread and wine) becomes flesh and blood and gives bulk to the human body: the nourishment becomes the body. Just as with other people, our Savior's nourishment (bread and wine) was His Body; but in Him, both the nourishment and the Body were changed into the Body of God by the indwelling Word. So now, each time the bread and wine are sanctified by the Word (the sacred blessing), they are simultaneously changed into the Body of that Word; and this Flesh is distributed among all the faithful.

Chapter XXXVII. — The Eucharist unites the body, as Baptism the soul, to God. Our bodies, having received poison, need an Antidote; and only by eating and drinking can it enter. One Body, the receptacle of Deity, is this Antidote, thus received. But how can it enter whole into each one of the Faithful? This needs an illustration. Water gives its own body to a skin-bottle. So nourishment (bread and wine) by becoming flesh and blood gives bulk to the human frame: the nourishment is the body. Just as in the case of other men, our Saviour's nourishment (bread and wine) was His Body; but these, nourishment and Body, were in Him changed into the Body of God by the Word indwelling. So now repeatedly the bread and wine, sanctified by the Word (the sacred Benediction), is at the same time changed into the Body of that Word; and this Flesh is disseminated among all the Faithful.

It is essential for spiritual regeneration to believe that the Son and the Spirit are not created spirits, but share the same nature with God the Father. Anyone who would make their salvation dependent (in the baptismal invocation) on anything created would be trusting in an imperfect nature—one that itself needs a savior.

Chapters XXXVIII., XXXIX. — It is essential for Regeneration to believe that the Son and the Spirit are not created spirits, but of like nature with God the Father; for he who would make his salvation dependent (in the baptismal Invocation) on anything created would trust to an imperfect nature, and one itself needing a saviour.

Chapter XL. — Only those have truly become children of God who give evidence of their regeneration by putting away from themselves all vice.

Chapter XL. — He alone has truly become a child of God who gives evidence of his regeneration by putting away from himself all vice.

Basil, great among the saints, had departed from this life to God, and the impulse to mourn for him was shared by all the churches. But his sister the Teacher was still living, and so I journeyed to her, longing to share sympathy with her over the loss of her brother. My soul was deeply stricken with sorrow by this terrible blow, and I was looking for someone who could feel it just as much, so I could mingle my tears with theirs. But when we were in each other's presence, the sight of the Teacher awakened all my pain, for she too was lying in a state of collapse, near death. Well, she indulged me for a little while, like a skillful driver, in the uncontrollable violence of my grief. Then she tried to restrain me by speaking, and to correct the disorder of my soul with the curb of her reasonings. She quoted the Apostle's words about the duty of not being grieved for those who sleep, because only men without hope have such feelings. With a heart still seething with my pain, I asked—

Basil, great among the saints, had departed from this life to God; and the impulse to mourn for him was shared by all the churches. But his sister the Teacher was still living; and so I journeyed to her, yearning for an interchange of sympathy over the loss of her brother. My soul was right sorrow-stricken by this grievous blow, and I sought for one who could feel it equally, to mingle my tears with. But when we were in each other's presence the sight of the Teacher awakened all my pain; for she too was lying in a state of prostration even unto death. Well, she gave in to me for a little while, like a skilful driver, in the ungovernable violence of my grief; and then she tried to check me by speaking, and to correct with the curb of her reasonings the disorder of my soul. She quoted the Apostle's words about the duty of not being grieved for them that sleep; because only men without hope have such feelings. With a heart still fermenting with my pain, I asked —

How can humanity ever practice this? There is such an instinctive and deeply rooted fear of death in everyone! Those who witness a deathbed can hardly endure the sight, and those whom death approaches recoil from it as much as they can. Even the law that governs us places death at the top of the list of crimes and at the top of the list of punishments. By what method, then, can we bring ourselves to regard as insignificant the departure from life even of a stranger, let alone that of relatives, when they cease to live? We see that the entire course of human life aims at this one thing: how we may continue in this life. Indeed, it is for this reason that we have invented houses to live in, so that our bodies may not be overcome in their surroundings by cold or heat. Agriculture—what is it but the provision of our sustenance? In fact, all thought about how we are to go on living is caused by the fear of dying. Why is medicine so honored among people? Because it is thought to carry on the fight against death to some extent through its methods. Why do we have breastplates, large shields, greaves, helmets, and all defensive armor, and fortified enclosures and iron-barred gates, except that we fear death? Since death is naturally so terrible to us, how can it be easy for a survivor to obey this command to remain unmoved over departed friends?

How can that ever be practised by mankind? There is such an instinctive and deep-seated abhorrence of death in all! Those who look on a death-bed can hardly bear the sight; and those whom death approaches recoil from him all they can. Why, even the law that controls us puts death highest on the list of crimes, and highest on the list of punishments. By what device, then, can we bring ourselves to regard as nothing a departure from life even in the case of a stranger, not to mention that of relations, when so be they cease to live? We see before us the whole course of human life aiming at this one thing, viz. how we may continue in this life; indeed it is for this that houses have been invented by us to live in; in order that our bodies may not be prostrated in their environment by cold or heat. Agriculture, again, what is it but the providing of our sustenance? In fact all thought about how we are to go on living is occasioned by the fear of dying. Why is medicine so honoured among men? Because it is thought to carry on the combat with death to a certain extent by its methods. Why do we have corslets, and long shields, and greaves, and helmets, and all the defensive armour, and inclosures of fortifications, and iron-barred gates, except that we fear to die? Death then being naturally so terrible to us, how can it be easy for a survivor to obey this command to remain unmoved over friends departed?

Why, what is the special pain you feel, the Teacher asked, in the mere necessity of dying itself? This common talk of thoughtless people is no sufficient accusation.

Why, what is the special pain you feel, asked the Teacher, in the mere necessity itself of dying? This common talk of unthinking persons is no sufficient accusation.

What! Is there no reason for grieving, I replied to her, when we see someone who so recently lived and spoke suddenly becoming lifeless and motionless, with the sense of every bodily organ extinguished, with no sight or hearing functioning, or any other faculty of perception that the senses possess? And if you apply fire or steel to him, even if you were to plunge a sword into the body, or cast it to wild beasts, or if you bury it beneath a mound, that dead person is equally unmoved by any treatment. Seeing, then, that this change happens in all these ways, and that principle of life, whatever it might be, disappears all at once from view, just as the flame of an extinguished lamp that burned on it the moment before neither remains on the wick nor passes to some other place, but completely disappears—how can such a change be endured without emotion by one who has no clear ground to stand on? We hear of the departure of the spirit, we see the shell that is left behind; but of the part that has been separated we are ignorant, both as to its physis and as to the place where it has fled. For neither earth, nor air, nor water, nor any other element can show this force that has left the body residing within itself, at whose departure only a corpse remains, ready for dissolution.

What! Is there no occasion for grieving, I replied to her, when we see one who so lately lived and spoke becoming all of a sudden lifeless and motionless, with the sense of every bodily organ extinct, with no sight or hearing in operation, or any other faculty of apprehension that sense possesses; and if you apply fire or steel to him, even if you were to plunge a sword into the body, or cast it to the beasts of prey, or if you bury it beneath a mound, that dead man is alike unmoved at any treatment? Seeing, then, that this change is observed in all these ways, and that principle of life, whatever it might be, disappears all at once out of sight, as the flame of an extinguished lamp which burnt on it the moment before neither remains upon the wick nor passes to some other place, but completely disappears, how can such a change be borne without emotion by one who has no clear ground to rest upon? We hear the departure of the spirit, we see the shell that is left; but of the part that has been separated we are ignorant, both as to its nature, and as to the place whither it has fled; for neither earth, nor air, nor water, nor any other element can show as residing within itself this force that has left the body, at whose withdrawal a corpse only remains, ready for dissolution.

While I was going on about this subject, the Teacher signaled to me with her hand and said: Surely what alarms and disturbs your mind is not the thought that the soul, instead of lasting forever, ceases to exist when the body dissolves!

Whilst I was thus enlarging on the subject, the Teacher signed to me with her hand, and said: Surely what alarms and disturbs your mind is not the thought that the soul, instead of lasting for ever, ceases with the body's dissolution!

I answered rather boldly, without thinking carefully about what I was saying, since my intense grief had not yet restored my judgment. In fact, I said that the divine statements seemed to me like mere commands forcing us to believe that the soul lasts forever—not that they led us to this belief through any reasoning. Our mind within us appears to accept this imposed opinion like a slave, but not to agree with it through its own free impulse. This makes our sorrow over those who have died even more painful; we do not really know whether this life-giving principle is anything in itself, where it is, or how it exists—whether it actually exists anywhere at all in any way. This uncertainty about the true state of things leaves the opposing views equally balanced; many adopt one position, many the other; and there are in fact certain people of considerable philosophical reputation among the Greeks who have held and defended this view I have just stated.

I answered rather audaciously, and without due consideration of what I said, for my passionate grief had not yet given me back my judgment. In fact, I said that the Divine utterances seemed to me like mere commands compelling us to believe that the soul lasts for ever; not, however, that we were led by them to this belief by any reasoning. Our mind within us appears slavishly to accept the opinion enforced, but not to acquiesce with a spontaneous impulse. Hence our sorrow over the departed is all the more grievous; we do not exactly know whether this vivifying principle is anything by itself; where it is, or how it is; whether, in fact, it exists in any way at all anywhere. This uncertainty about the real state of the case balances the opinions on either side; many adopt the one view, many the other; and indeed there are certain persons, of no small philosophical reputation among the Greeks, who have held and maintained this which I have just said.

She cried out, "Away with that pagan nonsense! The inventor of lies fabricates false theories there only to harm the Truth. Observe this and nothing else: such a view about the soul amounts to nothing less than abandoning virtue and seeking only the pleasure of the moment. The life of eternity, by which alone virtue claims its advantage, must be despaired of."

Away, she cried, with that pagan nonsense! For therein the inventor of lies fabricates false theories only to harm the Truth. Observe this, and nothing else; that such a view about the soul amounts to nothing less than the abandoning of virtue, and seeking the pleasure of the moment only; the life of eternity, by which alone virtue claims the advantage, must be despaired of.

And so I asked, how are we to gain a solid and unshakable belief in the soul's continued existence? I, too, am aware that human life will be stripped of the most beautiful quality it possesses—namely, virtue—unless we establish within ourselves an unshakable confidence about this matter. Indeed, what foundation does virtue have for those people who consider this present life as the boundary of their existence and hope for nothing beyond it?

And pray how, I asked, are we to get a firm and unmovable belief in the soul's continuance? I, too, am sensible of the fact that human life will be bereft of the most beautiful ornament that life has to give, I mean virtue, unless an undoubting confidence with regard to this be established within us. What, indeed, has virtue to stand upon in the case of those persons who conceive of this present life as the limit of their existence, and hope for nothing beyond?

Well, the Teacher replied, we must find a starting point for our discussion on this matter. If you're willing, why don't you take on the task of defending the opposing viewpoints? I can see that your mind is somewhat inclined to accept such a role. Then, after the conflicting position has been presented, we'll be able to search for the truth.

Well, replied the Teacher, we must seek where we may get a beginning for our discussion upon this point; and if you please, let the defense of the opposing views be undertaken by yourself; for I see that your mind is a little inclined to accept such a brief. Then, after the conflicting belief has been stated, we shall be able to look for the truth.

When she made this request, I emphasized that I was not raising these objections because I truly believed them, but only because I wanted to establish a firm foundation for our belief about the soul by first examining the arguments directed against this view. Then I began:

When she made this request, and I had deprecated the suspicion that I was making the objections in real earnest, instead of only wishing to get a firm ground for the belief about the soul by calling into court first what is aimed against this view, I began —

Would not the defenders of the opposite belief say this: that the body, being composite, must necessarily be broken down into what it is composed of? And when the combination of elements in the body ceases, each of those elements naturally gravitates toward its kindred element with the irresistible pull of like to like. The heat in us will thus unite with heat, the earthy with the solid, and each of the other elements will also pass toward its like. Where, then, will the soul be after that? If someone claims that it is in those elements, they will be forced to admit that it is identical with them, for this fusion could not possibly take place between two things of different natures. But if this is granted, the soul must necessarily be viewed as a complex thing, since it is fused with qualities so opposite. But the complex is not simple; rather, it must be classed with the composite, and the composite is necessarily dissoluble. And dissolution means the destruction of the compound, and the destructible is not immortal—otherwise the flesh itself, which can be resolved into its constituent elements, might be called immortal. If, on the other hand, the soul is something other than these elements, where can our reason suggest a place for it to be, when it is thus, by virtue of its alien nature, not to be discovered in those elements, and there is no other place in the world, either, where it may continue, in harmony with its own peculiar character, to exist? But if a thing can be found nowhere, clearly it has no existence.

Would not the defenders of the opposite belief say this: that the body, being composite, must necessarily be resolved into that of which it is composed? And when the coalition of elements in the body ceases, each of those elements naturally gravitates towards its kindred element with the irresistible bias of like to like; the heat in us will thus unite with heat, the earthy with the solid, and each of the other elements also will pass towards its like. Where, then, will the soul be after that? If one affirm that it is in those elements, one will be obliged to admit that it is identical with them, for this fusion could not possibly take place between two things of different natures. But this being granted, the soul must necessarily be viewed as a complex thing, fused as it is with qualities so opposite. But the complex is not simple, but must be classed with the composite, and the composite is necessarily dissoluble; and dissolution means the destruction of the compound; and the destructible is not immortal, else the flesh itself, resolvable as it is into its constituent elements, might so be called immortal. If, on the other hand, the soul is something other than these elements, where can our reason suggest a place for it to be, when it is thus, by virtue of its alien nature, not to be discovered in those elements, and there is no other place in the world, either, where it may continue, in harmony with its own peculiar character, to exist? But, if a thing can be found nowhere, plainly it has no existence.

The Teacher sighed gently at these words of mine, and then said: Perhaps these were the objections, or something like them, that the Stoics and Epicureans gathered at Athens made in answer to the Apostle. I understand that Epicurus developed his theories along these very lines. In his view, the structure of reality was an accidental and mechanical arrangement, without a Providence working through its operations. Consistent with this, he thought that human life was like a bubble, existing only as long as the breath inside was held in by the surrounding substance, since our body was merely a membrane, so to speak, enclosing a breath. When this inflated structure collapsed, the trapped essence was extinguished. For him, the visible world was the limit of what exists. He made our senses the only means by which we can grasp reality. He completely closed the eyes of his soul and was unable to see anything in the intelligible and immaterial realm, just as a man imprisoned in a cabin whose walls and roof block the view outside remains without a glimpse of all the wonders of the sky. Truly, everything in the universe that is perceived by the senses is like an earthen wall, forming in itself a barrier between narrow souls and that intelligible world which is ready for their contemplation. Such people see only earth and water and fire. Where each of these elements comes from, in what and by what they are surrounded, such souls cannot detect because of their narrowness. While the sight of a garment suggests to anyone the weaver who made it, and the thought of the shipwright comes at the sight of the ship, and the hand of the builder is brought to mind when someone sees the building, these small souls gaze upon the world but their eyes are blind to Him whom all this that we see around us makes manifest. And so they propose their clever and sharp doctrines about the soul's disappearance: body from elements, and elements from body, and besides, the impossibility of the soul's independent existence (if it is not to be one of these elements, or located in one). For if these opponents suppose that because the soul is not akin to the elements it is nowhere after death, they must first propose the absence of the soul from bodily life as well, seeing that the body itself is nothing but a combination of those elements. And so they must not tell us that the soul is to be found there either, independently giving life to their compound. If it is not possible for the soul to exist after death, though the elements do, then, I say, according to this teaching our life as well is proved to be nothing other than death. But if on the other hand they do not question the existence of the soul now in the body, how can they maintain its disappearance when the body is dissolved into its elements? Then, secondly, they must show an equal audacity against the God in this Nature as well. For how can they assert that the intelligible and immaterial Unseen can be dissolved and dispersed into the wet and the soft, as well as into the hot and the dry, and so hold together the universe in existence by being, though not of a kindred nature with the things which it penetrates, yet not thereby incapable of penetrating them? Let them, therefore, remove from their system the very Deity who upholds the world.

The Teacher sighed gently at these words of mine, and then said; Maybe these were the objections, or such as these, that the Stoics and Epicureans collected at Athens made in answer to the Apostle. I hear that Epicurus carried his theories in this very direction. The framework of things was to his mind a fortuitous and mechanical affair, without a Providence penetrating its operations; and, as a piece with this, he thought that human life was like a bubble, existing only as long as the breath within was held in by the enveloping substance, inasmuch as our body was a mere membrane, as it were, encompassing a breath; and that on the collapse of the inflation the imprisoned essence was extinguished. To him the visible was the limit of existence; he made our senses the only means of our apprehension of things; he completely closed the eyes of his soul, and was incapable of seeing anything in the intelligible and immaterial world, just as a man, who is imprisoned in a cabin whose walls and roof obstruct the view outside, remains without a glimpse of all the wonders of the sky. Verily, everything in the universe that is seen to be an object of sense is as an earthen wall, forming in itself a barrier between the narrower souls and that intelligible world which is ready for their contemplation; and it is the earth and water and fire alone that such behold; whence comes each of these elements, in what and by what they are encompassed, such souls because of their narrowness cannot detect. While the sight of a garment suggests to any one the weaver of it, and the thought of the shipwright comes at the sight of the ship, and the hand of the builder is brought to the mind of him who sees the building, these little souls gaze upon the world, but their eyes are blind to Him whom all this that we see around us makes manifest; and so they propound their clever and pungent doctrines about the soul's evanishment;– body from elements, and elements from body, and, besides, the impossibility of the soul's self- existence (if it is not to be one of these elements, or lodged in one); for if these opponents suppose that by virtue of the soul not being akin to the elements it is nowhere after death, they must propound, to begin with, the absence of the soul from the fleshly life as well, seeing that the body itself is nothing but a concourse of those elements; and so they must not tell us that the soul is to be found there either, independently vivifying their compound. If it is not possible for the soul to exist after death, though the elements do, then, I say, according to this teaching our life as well is proved to be nothing else but death. But if on the other hand they do not make the existence of the soul now in the body a question for doubt, how can they maintain its evanishment when the body is resolved into its elements? Then, secondly, they must employ an equal audacity against the God in this Nature too. For how can they assert that the intelligible and immaterial Unseen can be dissolved and diffused into the wet and the soft, as also into the hot and the dry, and so hold together the universe in existence through being, though not of a kindred nature with the things which it penetrates, yet not thereby incapable of so penetrating them? Let them, therefore, remove from their system the very Deity Who upholds the world.

That is exactly the point, I said, on which our opponents will inevitably have doubts: namely, that all things depend on God and are surrounded by Him, or that there is any divinity at all that exists beyond the physical world.

That is the very point, I said, upon which our adversaries cannot fail to have doubts; viz. that all things depend on God and are encompassed by Him, or, that there is any divinity at all transcending the physical world.

It would be more fitting, she cried, to remain silent about such doubts and not to dignify such foolish and wicked ideas with any response. After all, there is a divine command forbidding us to answer a fool according to his folly, and anyone who says there is no God must be a fool, as the Prophet declares. But since I must speak, I will present to you an argument that is not mine or any other human being's—for then it would have little value, no matter who spoke it—but rather an argument that the whole Creation declares through its wonders to the audience of the eye, with a skillful and artistic voice that reaches the heart. Creation openly proclaims the Creator, for the very heavens, as the Prophet says, declare the glory of God with their unspoken words. We see the universal harmony in the marvelous sky and on the marvelous earth: how elements that are essentially opposed to one another are all woven together in an ineffable union to serve one common purpose, each contributing its particular force to sustain the whole; how things that do not mix and naturally repel each other neither fly apart because of their distinctive properties nor are destroyed when combined despite such opposition; how elements that are naturally light move downward—the sun's heat, for instance, descending in its rays—while heavy bodies are lifted up by becoming rarefied into vapor, so that water rises contrary to its nature, being carried through the air to the upper regions; how the fire of the heavens penetrates the earth so deeply that even its depths feel the heat; how the moisture of rain absorbed into the soil produces countless different seeds, though it is one by nature, and gives life in due measure to each thing it touches; how very swiftly the polar sphere revolves, and how the orbits within it move in the opposite direction, with all the eclipses, conjunctions, and measured intervals of the planets. We see all this with the piercing eyes of the mind, and we cannot fail to be taught by such a spectacle that a divine power, working with skill and purpose, is manifesting itself in this actual world, penetrating each part, combining those parts with the whole and completing the whole through the parts, and encompassing the universe with a single all-controlling force, self-centered and self-contained, never ceasing from its motion yet never changing the position it holds.

It would be more fitting, she cried, to be silent about such doubts, and not to deign to make any answer to such foolish and wicked propositions; for there is a Divine precept forbidding us to answer a fool in his folly; and he must be a fool, as the Prophet declares, who says that there is no God. But since one needs must speak, I will urge upon you an argument which is not mine nor that of any human being (for it would then be of small value, whosoever spoke it), but an argument which the whole Creation enunciates by the medium of its wonders to the audience of the eye, with a skilful and artistic utterance that reaches the heart. The Creation proclaims outright the Creator; for the very heavens, as the Prophet says, declare the glory of God with their unutterable words. We see the universal harmony in the wondrous sky and on the wondrous earth; how elements essentially opposed to each other are all woven together in an ineffable union to serve one common end, each contributing its particular force to maintain the whole; how the unmingling and mutually repellent do not fly apart from each other by virtue of their peculiarities, any more than they are destroyed, when compounded, by such contrariety; how those elements which are naturally buoyant move downwards, the heat of the sun, for instance, descending in the rays, while the bodies which possess weight are lifted by becoming rarefied in vapour, so that water contrary to its nature ascends, being conveyed through the air to the upper regions; how too that fire of the firmament so penetrates the earth that even its abysses feel the heat; how the moisture of the rain infused into the soil generates, one though it be by nature, myriads of differing germs, and animates in due proportion each subject of its influence; how very swiftly the polar sphere revolves, how the orbits within it move the contrary way, with all the eclipses, and conjunctions, and measured intervals of the planets. We see all this with the piercing eyes of mind, nor can we fail to be taught by means of such a spectacle that a Divine power, working with skill and method, is manifesting itself in this actual world, and, penetrating each portion, combines those portions with the whole and completes the whole by the portions, and encompasses the universe with a single all-controlling force, self-centred and self-contained, never ceasing from its motion, yet never altering the position which it holds.

And please explain, I asked, how does this belief in the existence of God also prove the existence of the human soul? For surely God is not the same thing as the soul, so that if one is believed in, the other must necessarily be believed in as well.

And pray how, I asked, does this belief in the existence of God prove along with it the existence of the human soul? For God, surely, is not the same thing as the soul, so that, if the one were believed in, the other must necessarily be believed in.

She replied: Wise people have said that a human being is a little world in himself and contains all the elements that make up the universe. If this view is true (and it seems to be), we may need no other support than this to establish the truth of our understanding of the soul. Our understanding is this: the soul exists with a rare and unique physis of its own, separate from the body with its coarse texture. We gain precise knowledge of this outer world through the perception of our senses, and these sensory operations themselves lead us to understand the supersensible world of fact and thought. Our eye thus becomes the interpreter of that almighty wisdom which is visible in the universe, and points through itself to the Being Who encompasses it. In the same way, when we look to our inner world, we also find significant grounds there, in what is known, for inferring what is unknown. And the unknown there is also that which, being the object of thought and not of sight, escapes the grasp of sense.

She replied: It has been said by wise men that man is a little world in himself and contains all the elements which go to complete the universe. If this view is a true one (and so it seems), we perhaps shall need no other ally than it to establish the truth of our conception of the soul. And our conception of it is this; that it exists, with a rare and peculiar nature of its own, independently of the body with its gross texture. We get our exact knowledge of this outer world from the apprehension of our senses, and these sensational operations themselves lead us on to the understanding of the super-sensual world of fact and thought, and our eye thus becomes the interpreter of that almighty wisdom which is visible in the universe, and points in itself to the Being Who encompasses it. Just so, when we look to our inner world, we find no slight grounds there also, in the known, for conjecturing the unknown; and the unknown there also is that which, being the object of thought and not of sight, eludes the grasp of sense.

I responded: No, it may well be possible to infer a wisdom that transcends the universe from the skillful and artistic designs we can observe in this harmonious structure of physical nature. But when it comes to the soul, what knowledge is available to those who would try to trace the unknown through the known, using whatever indications the body might provide?

I rejoined, Nay, it may be very possible to infer a wisdom transcending the universe from the skilful and artistic designs observable in this harmonized fabric of physical nature; but, as regards the soul, what knowledge is possible to those who would trace, from any indications the body has to give, the unknown through the known?

Most certainly, the Virgin replied, the soul herself is a fully adequate teacher for those who wish to follow the wise proverb and know themselves—a teacher, that is, of the fact that she is an immaterial and spiritual thing, working and moving in a manner that corresponds to her distinctive nature, and showing these distinctive emotions through the bodily organs. This bodily structure remains the same even in those who have just been reduced by death to the state of corpses, but it stays without motion or action because the force of the soul is no longer in it. It moves only when there is sensation in the organs, and beyond that, the mental force penetrates through that sensation with its own impulses and moves wherever it wills all those sensory organs.

Most certainly, the Virgin replied, the soul herself, to those who wish to follow the wise proverb and know themselves, is a competent instructress; of the fact, I mean, that she is an immaterial and spiritual thing, working and moving in a way corresponding to her peculiar nature, and evincing these peculiar emotions through the organs of the body. For this bodily organization exists the same even in those who have just been reduced by death to the state of corpses, but it remains without motion or action because the force of the soul is no longer in it. It moves only when there is sensation in the organs, and not only that, but the mental force by means of that sensation penetrates with its own impulses and moves whither it will all those organs of sensation.

What then, I asked, is the soul? Perhaps there may be some way to describe its nature, so that we can understand this subject, at least in outline.

What then, I asked, is the soul? Perhaps there may be some possible means of delineating its nature; so that we may have some comprehension of this subject, in the way of a sketch.

The Teacher answered that different writers have tried to define it in different ways, each according to their own inclination. But here is our view on the matter. The soul is a created ousia that is living and intellectual, which transmits from itself to an organized and sensing body the power of living and of perceiving sense objects, for as long as a natural constitution capable of this remains intact.

Its definition, the Teacher replied, has been attempted in different ways by different writers, each according to his own bent; but the following is our opinion about it. The soul is an essence created, and living, and intellectual, transmitting from itself to an organized and sentient body the power of living and of grasping objects of sense, as long as a natural constitution capable of this holds together.

As she said this, she pointed to the physician who was sitting there watching her condition, and said: Here is proof of what I'm saying close at hand. How, I ask, does this man, by placing his fingers to feel the pulse, in a way hear through this sense of touch Nature calling loudly to him and telling him about her particular pain—in fact, that the disease in the body is inflammatory, and that the illness originates in this or that internal organ, and that there is such and such a degree of fever? How is he also taught through the eye other facts of this kind, when he looks to see the patient's posture and observes the wasting of the flesh? Similarly, the state of the complexion—somewhat pale and yellowish—and the look in the eyes, as is the case with those in pain, involuntarily turning toward sadness, indicate the internal condition. So too the ear provides information of the same sort, determining the nature of the illness by the shortness of the breathing and by the groan that comes with it. One might say that even the sense of smell in the expert is not incapable of detecting the kind of disorder, but that it notices the hidden suffering of the internal organs in the particular quality of the breath. Could this be so if there were not a certain force of intelligence present in each organ of the senses? What would our hand have taught us by itself, without thought conducting it from feeling to understanding the object before it? What would the ear, apart from mind, or the eye or the nostril or any other organ have contributed toward settling the question, all by themselves? Truly, it is most accurate what one trained in pagan culture is recorded to have said, that it is the mind that sees and the mind that hears. Otherwise, if you will not allow this to be true, you must tell me why, when you look at the sun, as you have been trained by your instructor to look at it, you assert that it is not in the breadth of its disc the size it appears to most people, but that it exceeds by many times the measure of the entire earth. Do you not confidently maintain that this is so, because you have arrived by reasoning through observable phenomena at the conception of such and such a movement, of such distances of time and space, of such causes of eclipse? And when you look at the waning and waxing moon you are taught other truths by the visible shape of that heavenly body—namely, that it is in itself devoid of light, and that it revolves in the circle nearest to the earth, and that it is lit by light from the sun, just as is the case with mirrors, which, receiving the sun upon them, do not reflect rays of their own, but those of the sun, whose light is given back from their smooth shining surface. Those who see this but do not examine it think that the light comes from the moon itself. But that this is not the case is proved by this: that when she is directly facing the sun she has the whole of the disc that looks our way illuminated; but, as she travels her own circle of revolution more quickly from moving in a narrower space, she herself has completed this more than twelve times before the sun has once traveled around his. Therefore it happens that her substance is not always covered with light. For her position facing him is not maintained in the frequency of her revolutions; but while this position causes the whole side of the moon which looks toward us to be illuminated, as soon as she moves sideways her hemisphere which is turned to us necessarily becomes partially shadowed, and only that which is turned to him meets his embracing rays. The brightness, in fact, keeps on withdrawing from that which can no longer see the sun to that which still sees him, until she passes right across the sun's disc and receives his rays upon her far side; and then the fact that she is in herself totally devoid of light and splendor causes the side turned to us to be invisible while the far hemisphere is all in light; and this is called the completion of her waning. But when again, in her own revolution, she has passed the sun and she is transverse to his rays, the side which was dark just before begins to shine a little, for the rays move from the illuminated part to that so recently invisible. You see what the eye does teach; and yet it would never by itself have provided this insight, without something that looks through the eyes and uses the data of the senses as mere guides to penetrate from the apparent to the unseen. It is needless to add the methods of geometry that lead us step by step through visible diagrams to truths that lie out of sight, and countless other instances which all prove that understanding is the work of an intellectual essence deeply seated in our nature, acting through the operation of our bodily senses.

Saying this she pointed to the physician who was sitting to watch her state, and said: There is a proof of what I say close by us. How, I ask, does this man, by putting his fingers to feel the pulse, hear in a manner, through this sense of touch, Nature calling loudly to him and telling him of her peculiar pain; in fact, that the disease in the body is an inflammatory one, and that the malady originates in this or that internal organ; and that there is such and such a degree of fever? How too is he taught by the agency of the eye other facts of this kind, when he looks to see the posture of the patient and watches the wasting of the flesh? As, too, the state of the complexion, pale somewhat and bilious, and the gaze of the eyes, as is the case with those in pain, involuntarily inclining to sadness, indicate the internal condition, so the ear gives information of the like, ascertaining the nature of the malady by the shortness of the breathing and by the groan that comes with it. One might say that even the sense of smell in the expert is not incapable of detecting the kind of disorder, but that it notices the secret suffering of the vitals in the particular quality of the breath. Could this be so if there were not a certain force of intelligence present in each organ of the senses? What would our hand have taught us of itself, without thought conducting it from feeling to understanding the subject before it? What would the ear, as separate from mind, or the eye or the nostril or any other organ have helped towards the settling of the question, all by themselves? Verily, it is most true what one of heathen culture is recorded to have said, that it is the mind that sees and the mind that hears. Else, if you will not allow this to be true, you must tell me why, when you look at the sun, as you have been trained by your instructor to look at him, you assert that he is not in the breadth of his disc of the size he appears to the many, but that he exceeds by many times the measure of the entire earth. Do you not confidently maintain that it is so, because you have arrived by reasoning through phenomena at the conception of such and such a movement, of such distances of time and space, of such causes of eclipse? And when you look at the waning and waxing moon you are taught other truths by the visible figure of that heavenly body, viz. that it is in itself devoid of light, and that it revolves in the circle nearest to the earth, and that it is lit by light from the sun; just as is the case with mirrors, which, receiving the sun upon them, do not reflect rays of their own, but those of the sun, whose light is given back from their smooth flashing surface. Those who see this, but do not examine it, think that the light comes from the moon herself. But that this is not the case is proved by this; that when she is diametrically facing the sun she has the whole of the disc that looks our way illuminated; but, as she traverses her own circle of revolution quicker from moving in a narrower space, she herself has completed this more than twelve times before the sun has once travelled round his; whence it happens that her substance is not always covered with light. For her position facing him is not maintained in the frequency of her revolutions; but, while this position causes the whole side of the moon which looks to us to be illumined, directly she moves sideways her hemisphere which is turned to us necessarily becomes partially shadowed, and only that which is turned to him meets his embracing rays; the brightness, in fact, keeps on retiring from that which can no longer see the sun to that which still sees him, until she passes right across the sun's disc and receives his rays upon her hinder part; and then the fact of her being in herself totally devoid of light and splendour causes the side turned to us to be invisible while the further hemisphere is all in light; and this is called the completion of her waning. But when again, in her own revolution, she has passed the sun and she is transverse to his rays, the side which was dark just before begins to shine a little, for the rays move from the illumined part to that so lately invisible. You see what the eye does teach; and yet it would never of itself have afforded this insight, without something that looks through the eyes and uses the data of the senses as mere guides to penetrate from the apparent to the unseen. It is needless to add the methods of geometry that lead us step by step through visible delineations to truths that lie out of sight, and countless other instances which all prove that apprehension is the work of an intellectual essence deeply seated in our nature, acting through the operation of our bodily senses.

But what, I asked, if someone insists on the great differences that exist between each particular kind of matter—even though all elements share a certain quality of matter in their visible form? For instance, motion is not the same in all elements: some move up, some down. Nor is form the same, nor quality either. Suppose this person were to say that there is likewise a certain force incorporated in and belonging to these elements, a force that produces these intellectual insights and operations by a purely natural effort of their own. We often see such effects produced by craftsmen, in whose hands matter, combined according to the rules of art, imitates nature. The results resemble nature not only in appearance but even in motion, so that when a mechanical device sounds in its resonant part, it mimics a human voice. Yet we cannot perceive anywhere any mental force working out the particular figure, character, sound, and movement. Suppose, I say, we were to claim that all this happens in the organic machinery of our natural bodies as well, without any mixture of a special thinking substance, but owing simply to an inherent motive power of the elements within us that accomplishes these operations by itself—in other words, nothing but an impulsive movement working for the cognition of the object before us. Would not this fact prove the absolute nonexistence of that intellectual and immaterial being, the soul, which you speak of?

But what, I asked, if, insisting on the great differences which, in spite of a certain quality of matter shared alike by all elements in their visible form, exist between each particular kind of matter (motion, for instance, is not the same in all, some moving up, some down; nor form, nor quality either), some one were to say that there was in the same manner incorporated in, and belonging to, these elements a certain force as well which effects these intellectual insights and operations by a purely natural effort of their own (such effects, for instance, as we often see produced by the mechanists, in whose hands matter, combined according to the rules of Art, thereby imitates Nature, exhibiting resemblance not in figure alone but even in motion, so that when the piece of mechanism sounds in its resonant part it mimics a human voice, without, however, our being able to perceive anywhere any mental force working out the particular figure, character, sound, and movement); suppose, I say, we were to affirm that all this was produced as well in the organic machine of our natural bodies, without any intermixture of a special thinking substance, but owing simply to an inherent motive power of the elements within us accomplishing by itself these operations — to nothing else, in fact, but an impulsive movement working for the cognition of the object before us; would not then the fact stand proved of the absolute nonexistence of that intellectual and impalpable Being, the soul, which you talk of?

Your example, she replied, and your reasoning about it, though they belong to the opposing argument, can both be made to support our position, and they will contribute quite a bit to confirming its truth.

Your instance, she replied, and your reasoning upon it, though belonging to the counter-argument, may both of them be made allies of our statement, and will contribute not a little to the confirmation of its truth.

Why? How can you say that?

Why, how can you say that?

Because, you see, understanding, manipulating, and arranging soulless matter in such a way that the skill stored in these mechanisms becomes almost like a soul to the material—in all the various ways it imitates movement, shape, voice, and so on—can be turned into proof that there is something in man by which he shows an innate ability to work out within himself, through his contemplative and inventive powers, such thoughts, and having prepared such mechanisms in theory, to put them into practice through manual skill and display in matter the product of his mind. First, for instance, he realized through thinking that to produce any sound there must be some wind; and then, in order to produce wind in the mechanism, he first determined through reasoning and close observation of the nature of the elements that there is no vacuum at all in the world, but that the lighter is considered a vacuum only by comparison with the heavier, seeing that the air itself, taken as a separate existence, is completely full. It is a misuse of language to say that a jar is empty; for when it is empty of any liquid it is nonetheless, even in this state, full in the eyes of the experienced. Proof of this is that a jar when put into a pool of water is not immediately filled, but at first floats on the surface because the air it contains helps to buoy up its rounded sides, until at last the hand of the person drawing water forces it down to the bottom, and when there it takes in water through its neck. During this process it is shown not to have been empty even before the water came, for there is the spectacle of a sort of battle going on in the neck between the two elements—the water being forced by its weight into the interior and therefore streaming in, while the imprisoned air on the other hand is cramped for room by the gush of water along the neck and so rushes in the opposite direction. Thus the water is checked by the strong current of air and gurgles and bubbles against it. Men observed this and devised, in accordance with this property of the two elements, a way of introducing air to work their mechanism. They made a kind of cavity from some hard material and prevented the air in it from escaping in any direction, then introduced water into this cavity through its opening, measuring the amount of water according to need. Next they allowed an exit in the opposite direction for the air, so that it passed into a pipe placed ready, and in doing so, being violently forced by the water, became a blast. This, playing on the structure of the pipe, produced a sound. Is it not clearly proved by such visible results that there is a mind of some kind in man, something other than what is visible, which by virtue of an invisible thinking nature of its own first prepares such devices by inward invention, and then when they have been so developed brings them to light and displays them in the obedient matter? For if it were possible to attribute such wonders, as our opponents' theory does, to the actual constitution of the elements, we would have these mechanisms building themselves spontaneously. The bronze would not wait for the artist to be made into the likeness of a man but would become such by an innate force. The air would not require the pipe to make a sound but would sound spontaneously by its own random flow and motion. And the jet of water upward would not be, as it now is, the result of artificial pressure forcing it to move in an unnatural direction, but the water would rise into the mechanism on its own, finding in that direction a natural channel. But if none of these results are produced spontaneously by elemental force, but on the contrary each element is employed at will by skill, and if skill is a kind of movement and activity of mind, will not the very consequences of what has been urged by way of objection show us Mind as something other than the thing perceived?

Because, you see, so to understand, manipulate, and dispose the soulless matter, that the art which is stored away in such mechanisms becomes almost like a soul to this material, in all the various ways in which it mocks movement, and figure, and voice, and so on, may be turned into a proof of there being something in man whereby he shows an innate fitness to think out within himself, through the contemplative and inventive faculties, such thoughts, and having prepared such mechanisms in theory, to put them into practice by manual skill, and exhibit in matter the product of his mind. First, for instance, he saw, by dint of thinking, that to produce any sound there is need of some wind; and then, with a view to produce wind in the mechanism, he previously ascertained by a course of reasoning and close observation of the nature of elements, that there is no vacuum at all in the world, but that the lighter is to be considered a vacuum only by comparison with the heavier; seeing that the air itself, taken as a separate subsistence, is crowded quite full. It is by an abuse of language that a jar is said to be empty; for when it is empty of any liquid it is none the less, even in this state, full, in the eyes of the experienced. A proof of this is that a jar when put into a pool of water is not immediately filled, but at first floats on the surface, because the air it contains helps to buoy up its rounded sides; till at last the hand of the drawer of the water forces it down to the bottom, and, when there, it takes in water by its neck; during which process it is shown not to have been empty even before the water came; for there is the spectacle of a sort of combat going on in the neck between the two elements, the water being forced by its weight into the interior, and therefore streaming in; the imprisoned air on the other hand being straitened for room by the gush of the water along the neck, and so rushing in the contrary direction; thus the water is checked by the strong current of air, and gurgles and bubbles against it. Men observed this, and devised in accordance with this property of the two elements a way of introducing air to work their mechanism. They made a kind of cavity of some hard stuff, and prevented the air in it from escaping in any direction; and then introduced water into this cavity through its mouth, apportioning the quantity of water according to requirement; next they allowed an exit in the opposite direction to the air, so that it passed into a pipe placed ready to hand, and in so doing, being violently constrained by the water, became a blast; and this, playing on the structure of the pipe, produced a note. Is it not clearly proved by such visible results that there is a mind of some kind in man, something other than that which is visible, which, by virtue of an invisible thinking nature of its own, first prepares by inward invention such devices, and then, when they have been so matured, brings them to the light and exhibits them in the subservient matter? For if it were possible to ascribe such wonders, as the theory of our opponents does, to the actual constitution of the elements, we should have these mechanisms building themselves spontaneously; the bronze would not wait for the artist, to be made into the likeness of a man, but would become such by an innate force; the air would not require the pipe, to make a note, but would sound spontaneously by its own fortuitous flux and motion; and the jet of the water upwards would not be, as it now is, the result of an artificial pressure forcing it to move in an unnatural direction, but the water would rise into the mechanism of its own accord, finding in that direction a natural channel. But if none of these results are produced spontaneously by elemental force, but, on the contrary, each element is employed at will by artifice; and if artifice is a kind of movement and activity of mind, will not the very consequences of what has been urged by way of objection show us Mind as something other than the thing perceived?

I replied that I agree the thing that is perceived is not the same as the thing that is not perceived. But such a statement does not answer our question. It is still not clear to me what we are to think this thing-not-perceived actually is. Your argument has only shown me that it is not anything material, and I still do not know the proper name for it. I especially wanted to know what it is, not what it is not.

That the thing perceived, I replied, is not the same as the thing not perceived, I grant; but I do not discover any answer to our question in such a statement; it is not yet clear to me what we are to think that thing not-perceived to be; all I have been shown by your argument is that it is not anything material; and I do not yet know the fitting name for it. I wanted especially to know what it is, not what it is not.

We do learn, she replied, much about many things by this very same method, since in the very act of saying a thing is not so and so, we implicitly interpret the actual nature of the thing in question. For instance, when we say "guileless," we indicate a good man; when we say "unmanly," we have expressed that a man is a coward; and it is possible to suggest a great many things in the same way, where we either convey the idea of goodness by negating badness, or the reverse. Well then, if one thinks this way about the matter now before us, one will not fail to gain a proper understanding of it. The question is: What are we to think of Mind in its very essence? Now granted that the inquirer has had his doubts about the existence of the thing in question laid to rest because of the activities it displays to us, and only wants to know what it is, he will have adequately discovered it by being told that it is not what our senses perceive—neither a color, nor a form, nor a hardness, nor a weight, nor a quantity, nor a cubic dimension, nor a point, nor anything else perceptible in matter—assuming, that is, that there does exist something beyond all these.

We do learn, she replied, much about many things by this very same method, inasmuch as, in the very act of saying a thing is not so and so, we by implication interpret the very nature of the thing in question. For instance, when we say a guileless, we indicate a good man; when we say unmanly, we have expressed that a man is a coward; and it is possible to suggest a great many things in like fashion, wherein we either convey the idea of goodness by the negation of badness, or vice versâ. Well, then, if one thinks so with regard to the matter now before us, one will not fail to gain a proper conception of it. The question is — What are we to think of Mind in its very essence? Now granted that the inquirer has had his doubts set at rest as to the existence of the thing in question, owing to the activities which it displays to us, and only wants to know what it is, he will have adequately discovered it by being told that it is not that which our senses perceive, neither a color, nor a form, nor a hardness, nor a weight, nor a quantity, nor a cubic dimension, nor a point, nor anything else perceptible in matter; supposing, that is, that there does exist a something beyond all these.

Here I interrupted her: If you leave all these out of the account, I don't see how you can possibly avoid canceling the very thing you are searching for along with them. I can't presently conceive what the perceptive activity would cling to apart from these things. For whenever we investigate the contents of the world with our scrutinizing intellect, we must—insofar as we lay hold at all of what we are seeking—inevitably touch on some one of those things mentioned above, like blind men feeling along walls for the door. We must encounter color, or form, or quantity, or something else on your list. And when it comes to saying that the thing is none of these, our feebleness of mind leads us to suppose that it does not exist at all.

Here I interrupted her discourse: If you leave all these out of the account I do not see how you can possibly avoid cancelling along with them the very thing which you are in search of. I cannot at present conceive to what, as apart from these, the perceptive activity is to cling. For on all occasions in investigating with the scrutinizing intellect the contents of the world, we must, so far as we put our hand at all on what we are seeking, inevitably touch, as blind men feeling along the walls for the door, some one of those things aforesaid; we must come on color, or form, or quantity, or something else on your list; and when it comes to saying that the thing is none of them, our feebleness of mind induces us to suppose that it does not exist at all.

Shame on such nonsense! she said, interrupting angrily. What a conclusion this narrow-minded, earthbound view of the world leads us to! If everything that cannot be perceived by the senses must be eliminated from existence, then this same claim admits that the all-embracing Power governing all things does not exist. Once someone learns about the non-material and invisible nature of the Deity, such a premise forces him to consider it absolutely non-existent. But if the absence of such characteristics in His case does not limit His existence at all, how can the human Mind be eliminated from existence simply by removing each property of matter one by one?

Shame on such absurdity! said she, indignantly interrupting. A fine conclusion this narrow-minded, grovelling view of the world brings us to! If all that is not cognizable by sense is to be wiped out of existence, the all-embracing Power that presides over things is admitted by this same assertion not to be; once a man has been told about the non-material and invisible nature of the Deity, he must perforce with such a premise reckon it as absolutely non-existent. If, on the other hand, the absence of such characteristics in His case does not constitute any limitation of His existence, how can the Mind of man be squeezed out of existence along with this withdrawal one by one of each property of matter?

Well then, I retorted, we only exchange one paradox for another by arguing this way. Our reasoning will be forced to conclude that the Deity and the human Mind are identical, if it's true that neither can be thought of except by removing all the data of sense.

Well, then, I retorted, we only exchange one paradox for another by arguing in this way; for our reason will be reduced to the conclusion that the Deity and the Mind of man are identical, if it be true that neither can be thought of, except by the withdrawal of all the data of sense.

Say not so, she replied; to talk that way is also blasphemous. Rather, as Scripture tells you, say that the one is like the other. For that which is made in the image of the Deity necessarily possesses a likeness to its prototype in every respect. It resembles it in being intellectual, immaterial, unconnected with any notion of weight, and in eluding any measurement of its dimensions. Yet as regards its own peculiar nature, it is something different from that other. Indeed, it would no longer be an image if it were altogether identical with that other. But where we have A in that uncreate prototype, we have a in the image, just as in a tiny particle of glass, when it happens to face the light, the complete disc of the sun is often to be seen, not represented on it in proportion to its actual size, but only so far as the smallness of the particle allows it to be represented at all. In this way the reflections of those ineffable qualities of Deity shine forth within the narrow limits of our nature. And so our reason, following the leading of these reflections, will not miss grasping the Mind in its essence by clearing away from the question all corporeal qualities. Nor on the other hand will it bring the pure and infinite Existence to the level of that which is perishable and little. It will regard this essence of the Mind as an object of thought only, since it is the image of an Existence which is such. But it will not pronounce this image to be identical with the prototype. Just, then, as we have no doubts, owing to the display of a Divine mysterious wisdom in the universe, about a Divine Being and a Divine Power existing in it all which secures its continuance—though if you required a definition of that Being you would find the Deity completely separated from every object in creation, whether of sense or thought, while in these last, too, natural distinctions are admitted—so, too, there is nothing strange in the soul's separate existence as a substance (whatever we may think that substance to be) being no hindrance to her actual existence, in spite of the elemental atoms of the world not harmonizing with her in the definition of her being. In the case of our living bodies, composed as they are from the blending of these atoms, there is no sort of communion, as has just been said, on the score of substance, between the simplicity and invisibility of the soul and the grossness of those bodies. But, notwithstanding that, there is not a doubt that there is in them the soul's vivifying influence exerted by a law which it is beyond the human understanding to comprehend. Not even then, when those atoms have again been dissolved into themselves, has that bond of vivifying influence vanished. But as, while the framework of the body still holds together, each individual part is possessed of a soul which penetrates equally every component member, and one could not call that soul hard and resistant though blended with the solid, nor humid, or cold, or the reverse, though it transmits life to all and each of such parts, so, when that framework is dissolved and has returned to its kindred elements, there is nothing against probability that that simple and incomposite essence which has once for all by some inexplicable law grown with the growth of the bodily framework should continually remain beside the atoms with which it has been blended, and should in no way be separated from a union once formed. For it does not follow that because the composite is dissolved the incomposite must be dissolved with it.

Say not so, she replied; to talk so also is blasphemous. Rather, as the Scripture tells you, say that the one is like the other. For that which is made in the image of the Deity necessarily possesses a likeness to its prototype in every respect; it resembles it in being intellectual, immaterial, unconnected with any notion of weight, and in eluding any measurement of its dimensions; yet as regards its own peculiar nature it is something different from that other. Indeed, it would be no longer an image, if it were altogether identical with that other; but where we have A in that uncreate prototype we have a in the image; just as in a minute particle of glass, when it happens to face the light, the complete disc of the sun is often to be seen, not represented thereon in proportion to its proper size, but so far as the minuteness of the particle admits of its being represented at all. Thus do the reflections of those ineffable qualities of Deity shine forth within the narrow limits of our nature; and so our reason, following the leading of these reflections, will not miss grasping the Mind in its essence by clearing away from the question all corporeal qualities; nor on the other hand will it bring the pure and infinite Existence to the level of that which is perishable and little; it will regard this essence of the Mind as an object of thought only, since it is the image of an Existence which is such; but it will not pronounce this image to be identical with the prototype. Just, then, as we have no doubts, owing to the display of a Divine mysterious wisdom in the universe, about a Divine Being and a Divine Power existing in it all which secures its continuance (though if you required a definition of that Being you would therein find the Deity completely sundered from every object in creation, whether of sense or thought, while in these last, too, natural distinctions are admitted), so, too, there is nothing strange in the soul's separate existence as a substance (whatever we may think that substance to be) being no hindrance to her actual existence, in spite of the elemental atoms of the world not harmonizing with her in the definition of her being. In the case of our living bodies, composed as they are from the blending of these atoms, there is no sort of communion, as has been just said, on the score of substance, between the simplicity and invisibility of the soul, and the grossness of those bodies; but, notwithstanding that, there is not a doubt that there is in them the soul's vivifying influence exerted by a law which it is beyond the human understanding to comprehend. Not even then, when those atoms have again been dissolved into themselves, has that bond of a vivifying influence vanished; but as, while the framework of the body still holds together, each individual part is possessed of a soul which penetrates equally every component member, and one could not call that soul hard and resistent though blended with the solid, nor humid, or cold, or the reverse, though it transmits life to all and each of such parts, so, when that framework is dissolved, and has returned to its kindred elements, there is nothing against probability that that simple and incomposite essence which has once for all by some inexplicable law grown with the growth of the bodily framework should continually remain beside the atoms with which it has been blended, and should in no way be sundered from a union once formed. For it does not follow that because the composite is dissolved the incomposite must be dissolved with it.

I responded that no one would deny that these atoms unite and then separate again, and that this process constitutes the formation and dissolution of the body. But we need to consider this: there are great distances between these atoms, and they differ from each other both in position and in their distinctive qualities and characteristics. When all these atoms have come together in a given subject, it makes sense that the intelligent and dimensionless essence we call the soul would hold together with what is thus united. But once these atoms are separated from each other and have gone wherever their nature drives them, what happens to the soul when her vessel is scattered in many directions? Just as a sailor whose ship has been wrecked and broken apart cannot float on all the pieces at once that have been scattered here and there across the sea (since he grabs whatever piece comes to hand and lets all the rest drift away), in the same way the soul, being by nature incapable of dissolving along with the atoms, will cling to one of them if she finds it difficult to be separated from the body altogether. And if we accept this view, logic will no longer allow us to consider her immortal for living in one atom any more than mortal for not living in multiple atoms.

That those atoms, I rejoined, should unite and again be separated, and that this constitutes the formation and dissolution of the body, no one would deny. But we have to consider this. There are great intervals between these atoms; they differ from each other, both in position, and also in qualitative distinctions and peculiarities. When, indeed, these atoms have all converged upon the given subject, it is reasonable that that intelligent and undimensional essence which we call the soul should cohere with that which is so united; but once these atoms are separated from each other, and have gone whither their nature impels them, what is to become of the soul when her vessel is thus scattered in many directions? As a sailor, when his ship has been wrecked and gone to pieces, cannot float upon all the pieces at once which have been scattered this way and that over the surface of the sea (for he seizes any bit that comes to hand, and lets all the rest drift away), in the same way the soul, being by nature incapable of dissolution along with the atoms, will, if she finds it hard to be parted from the body altogether, cling to some one of them; and if we take this view, consistency will no more allow us to regard her as immortal for living in one atom than as mortal for not living in a number of them.

But the intelligent and undimensional, she replied, is neither contracted nor diffused (since contraction and diffusion are properties of body only). By virtue of a nature that is formless and bodiless, it is present with the body equally whether its atoms are contracted or diffused. It is no more narrowed by the compression that occurs when the atoms unite than it is abandoned by them when they scatter to their own kind, no matter how wide the interval between dissimilar atoms may be. For instance, there is a great difference between what is buoyant and light compared to what is heavy and solid, between hot compared to cold, between moist compared to its opposite. Yet it is no strain for an intelligent essence to be present in each of those elements to which it has once joined itself. This blending with opposites does not split it up. In location and in particular qualities, these elemental atoms are far removed from each other. But an undimensional nature finds no difficulty clinging to what is locally divided, since even now it is possible for the mind to contemplate the heavens above us and at the same time extend its active investigation beyond the horizon, and its contemplative power is not at all distracted by these journeys into such great distances. There is nothing, then, to prevent the soul's presence in the body's atoms, whether they are fused together in union or broken apart in dissolution. Just as in an alloy of gold and silver a certain methodical force can be observed that has fused the metals, and if one is later smelted out of the other, the law of this method nevertheless continues to exist in each—so that while the alloy is separated, this method does not suffer division along with it (for you cannot make fractions out of what is indivisible)—in the same way this intelligent essence of the soul is observable in the gathering of the atoms and does not undergo division when they are dissolved. Rather, it remains with them, and even in their separation it extends along with them, yet is not itself severed or divided into sections according to the number of atoms. Such a condition belongs to the material and spatial world, but what is intelligent and undimensional is not subject to the circumstances of space. Therefore the soul exists in the actual atoms that it has once animated, and there is no force to tear it away from its union with them. What cause for sadness, then, is there in this—that the visible is exchanged for the invisible? And why has your mind conceived such a hatred of death?

But the intelligent and undimensional, she replied, is neither contracted nor diffused (contraction and diffusion being a property of body only); but by virtue of a nature which is formless and bodiless it is present with the body equally in the contraction and in the diffusion of its atoms, and is no more narrowed by the compression which attends the uniting of the atoms than it is abandoned by them when they wander off to their kindred, however wide the interval is held to be which we observe between alien atoms. For instance, there is a great difference between the buoyant and light as contrasted with the heavy and solid; between the hot as contrasted with the cold; between the humid as contrasted with its opposite; nevertheless it is no strain to an intelligent essence to be present in each of those elements to which it has once cohered; this blending with opposites does not split it up. In locality, in peculiar qualities, these elemental atoms are held to be far removed from each other; but an undimensional nature finds it no labour to cling to what is locally divided, seeing that even now it is possible for the mind at once to contemplate the heavens above us and to extend its busy scrutiny beyond the horizon, nor is its contemplative power at all distracted by these excursions into distances so great. There is nothing, then, to hinder the soul's presence in the body's atoms, whether fused in union or decomposed in dissolution. Just as in the amalgam of gold and silver a certain methodical force is to be observed which has fused the metals, and if the one be afterwards smelted out of the other, the law of this method nevertheless continues to reside in each, so that while the amalgam is separated this method does not suffer division along with it (for you cannot make fractions out of the indivisible), in the same way this intelligent essence of the soul is observable in the concourse of the atoms, and does not undergo division when they are dissolved; but it remains with them, and even in their separation it is co-extensive with them, yet not itself dissevered nor discounted into sections to accord with the number of the atoms. Such a condition belongs to the material and spacial world, but that which is intelligent and undimensional is not liable to the circumstances of space. Therefore the soul exists in the actual atoms which she has once animated, and there is no force to tear her away from her cohesion with them. What cause for melancholy, then, is there herein, that the visible is exchanged for the invisible; and wherefore is it that your mind has conceived such a hatred of death?

Upon this, I returned to the definition she had previously given of the soul, and I said that in my thinking her definition had not indicated distinctly enough all the powers of the soul that we can observe. It declares the soul to be an intellectual essence that gives to the organic body a life-force by which the senses operate. But the soul doesn't operate only in our scientific and speculative intellect; it doesn't produce results only in that realm, or use the sense organs only for this natural work. Instead, we observe in our nature many emotions of desire and many of anger, and both of these exist in us as qualities belonging to our kind, and we see both of them displaying many very subtle differences in how they manifest. There are many states, for instance, that are caused by desire; many others that proceed from anger; and none of them belong to the body. But what does not belong to the body is clearly intellectual. Now our definition presents the soul as something intellectual, so one of two alternatives must follow when we think this through to the end—both of them absurd. Either anger and desire are both second souls within us, and we must replace the single soul with multiple souls, or the thinking faculty in us cannot be regarded as a soul either (if they are not), since the intellectual element applies equally to all of them and either marks them all as souls or equally excludes every one of them from the specific qualities of soul.

Upon this I recurred to the definition which she had previously given of the soul, and I said that to my thinking her definition had not indicated distinctly enough all the powers of the soul which are a matter of observation. It declares the soul to be an intellectual essence which imparts to the organic body a force of life by which the senses operate. Now the soul is not thus operative only in our scientific and speculative intellect; it does not produce results in that world only, or employ the organs of sense only for this their natural work. On the contrary, we observe in our nature many emotions of desire and many of anger; and both these exist in us as qualities of our kind, and we see both of them in their manifestations displaying further many most subtle differences. There are many states, for instance, which are occasioned by desire; many others which on the other hand proceed from anger; and none of them are of the body; but that which is not of the body is plainly intellectual. Now our definition exhibits the soul as something intellectual; so that one of two alternatives, both absurd, must emerge when we follow out this view to this end; either anger and desire are both second souls in us, and a plurality of souls must take the place of the single soul, or the thinking faculty in us cannot be regarded as a soul either (if they are not), the intellectual element adhering equally to all of them and stamping them all as souls, or else excluding every one of them equally from the specific qualities of soul.

You are quite right to raise this question, she replied, and many others have already discussed it elsewhere: what should we think about the principle of desire and the principle of anger within us? Are they consubstantial with the soul, inherent in the soul's very self from its first formation, or are they something different, added to us later? In fact, while everyone agrees that these principles can be detected in the soul, investigation has not yet discovered exactly what we should think of them in order to reach some settled belief about them. Most people still waver in their opinions about this, which are both numerous and mistaken. As for ourselves, if Gentile philosophy, which deals systematically with all these points, were really adequate for a demonstration, it would certainly be unnecessary to add a discussion on the soul to those speculations. But while Gentile philosophy proceeded on the subject of the soul as far in the direction of supposed consequences as the thinker pleased, we do not have such freedom—I mean the freedom to affirm whatever we please. We make the Holy Scriptures the rule and measure of every doctrine; we must fix our eyes on that and approve only what can be harmonized with the intention of those writings. We must therefore set aside the Platonic chariot and the pair of horses of dissimilar forces yoked to it, and their driver, by which the philosopher allegorizes these facts about the soul. We must also set aside everything said by the philosopher who succeeded him, who followed out probabilities by rules of art and carefully investigated the very question now before us, declaring that the soul was mortal by reason of these two principles. We must set aside all before and since their time, whether they philosophized in prose or verse, and we will adopt as the guide of our reasoning the Scripture, which lays down as an axiom that there is no excellence in the soul that is not also a property of the Divine nature. For the one who declares the soul to be God's likeness asserts that anything foreign to Him is outside the limits of the soul; similarity cannot be retained in those qualities that are different from the original. Since, then, nothing of the kind we are considering is included in the conception of the Divine nature, one would be reasonable in concluding that such things are not consubsubstantial with the soul either. Now, to seek to build up our doctrine by dialectic and the science which draws and destroys conclusions involves a type of discussion which we shall ask to be excused from, as being a weak and questionable way of demonstrating truth. Indeed, it is clear to everyone that that subtle dialectic possesses a force that may be turned both ways, as well for the overthrow of truth as for the detection of falsehood. And so we begin to suspect even truth itself when it is advanced in company with such an artifice, and to think that the very ingenuity of it is trying to bias our judgment and to upset the truth. If, on the other hand, anyone will accept a discussion that is in a plain, unsyllogistic form, we will speak on these points by making our study of them as far as we can follow the chain of scriptural tradition. What is it, then, that we assert? We say that the fact of the reasoning animal man being capable of understanding and knowing is most surely confirmed by those outside our faith, and that this definition would never have described our nature this way if it had viewed anger and desire and all such-like emotions as consubstantial with that nature. In any other case, one would not give a definition of the subject at hand by putting a generic quality instead of a specific one. And so, since the principle of desire and the principle of anger are observed equally in rational and irrational natures, one could not rightly identify the specific quality by means of this generic one. But how can that which, in defining a nature, is superfluous and worthy of exclusion be treated as a part of that nature and thus be available for falsifying the definition? Every definition of an essence looks to the specific quality of the subject at hand, and whatever is outside that specificity is set aside as having nothing to do with the required definition. Yet, beyond question, these faculties of anger and desire are allowed to be common to all reasoning and brute natures. Anything common is not identical with that which is peculiar. It is therefore necessary that we should not count these faculties among those by which humanity is exclusively meant. But just as one may perceive the principle of sensation and that of nutrition and growth in man, and yet not thereby shake the given definition of his soul (for quality A being in the soul does not prevent quality B from being in it too), so when one detects in humanity these emotions of anger and desire, one cannot on that account fairly quarrel with this definition, as if it fell short of a full indication of man's nature.

You are quite justified, she replied, in raising this question, and it has ere this been discussed by many elsewhere; namely, what we are to think of the principle of desire and the principle of anger within us. Are they consubstantial with the soul, inherent in the soul's very self from her first organization, or are they something different, accruing to us afterwards? In fact, while all equally allow that these principles are to be detected in the soul, investigation has not yet discovered exactly what we are to think of them so as to gain some fixed belief with regard to them. The generality of men still fluctuate in their opinions about this, which are as erroneous as they are numerous. As for ourselves, if the Gentile philosophy, which deals methodically with all these points, were really adequate for a demonstration, it would certainly be superfluous to add a discussion on the soul to those speculations. But while the latter proceeded, on the subject of the soul, as far in the direction of supposed consequences as the thinker pleased, we are not entitled to such licence, I mean that of affirming what we please; we make the Holy Scriptures the rule and the measure of every tenet; we necessarily fix our eyes upon that, and approve that alone which may be made to harmonize with the intention of those writings. We must therefore neglect the Platonic chariot and the pair of horses of dissimilar forces yoked to it, and their driver, whereby the philosopher allegorizes these facts about the soul; we must neglect also all that is said by the philosopher who succeeded him and who followed out probabilities by rules of art, and diligently investigated the very question now before us, declaring that the soul was mortal by reason of these two principles; we must neglect all before and since their time, whether they philosophized in prose or in verse, and we will adopt, as the guide of our reasoning, the Scripture, which lays it down as an axiom that there is no excellence in the soul which is not a property as well of the Divine nature. For he who declares the soul to be God's likeness asserts that anything foreign to Him is outside the limits of the soul; similarity cannot be retained in those qualities which are diverse from the original. Since, then, nothing of the kind we are considering is included in the conception of the Divine nature, one would be reasonable in surmising that such things are not consubstantial with the soul either. Now to seek to build up our doctrine by rule of dialectic and the science which draws and destroys conclusions, involves a species of discussion which we shall ask to be excused from, as being a weak and questionable way of demonstrating truth. Indeed, it is clear to every one that that subtle dialectic possesses a force that may be turned both ways, as well for the overthrow of truth as for the detection of falsehood; and so we begin to suspect even truth itself when it is advanced in company with such a kind of artifice, and to think that the very ingenuity of it is trying to bias our judgment and to upset the truth. If on the other hand any one will accept a discussion which is in a naked unsyllogistic form, we will speak upon these points by making our study of them so far as we can follow the chain of Scriptural tradition. What is it, then, that we assert? We say that the fact of the reasoning animal man being capable of understanding and knowing is most surely attested by those outside our faith; and that this definition would never have sketched our nature so, if it had viewed anger and desire and all such-like emotions as consubstantial with that nature. In any other case, one would not give a definition of the subject in hand by putting a generic instead of a specific quality; and so, as the principle of desire and the principle of anger are observed equally in rational and irrational natures, one could not rightly mark the specific quality by means of this generic one. But how can that which, in defining a nature, is superfluous and worthy of exclusion be treated as a part of that nature, and, so, available for falsifying the definition? Every definition of an essence looks to the specific quality of the subject in hand; and whatever is outside that speciality is set aside as having nothing to do with the required definition. Yet, beyond question, these faculties of anger and desire are allowed to be common to all reasoning and brute natures; anything common is not identical with that which is peculiar; it is imperative therefore that we should not range these faculties among those whereby humanity is exclusively meant: but just as one may perceive the principle of sensation, and that of nutrition and growth in man, and yet not shake thereby the given definition of his soul (for the quality A being in the soul does not prevent the quality B being in it too), so, when one detects in humanity these emotions of anger and desire, one cannot on that account fairly quarrel with this definition, as if it fell short of a full indication of man's nature.

What should we think about this, then? I asked the Teacher. I still cannot see how we can properly reject faculties that are actually present within us.

What then, I asked the Teacher, are we to think about this? For I cannot yet see how we can fitly repudiate faculties which are actually within us.

You see, she replied, reason battles against these things and struggles to rid the soul of them. Some people have succeeded in this struggle. Moses did, as we know. He was superior to both anger and desire. Scripture testifies to this in both respects, saying he was meeker than all other people (and by meekness it means the complete absence of anger and a mind entirely free from resentment), and that he desired none of those things that normally activate the desiring faculty in most people. This couldn't have happened if these faculties were physis and belonged to the contents of man's ousia. It's impossible for someone who has moved completely outside his physis to exist at all. But if Moses both existed and was not subject to these conditions, then it follows that these conditions are something other than physis, not physis itself. If, on one hand, true physis is that in which the essence of a being is found, and on the other hand, we have the power to remove these conditions—and their removal not only causes no harm but actually benefits the physis—then clearly these conditions belong among external things and are affections of the physis rather than its essence. The essence is only that thing which it actually is. As for anger, most people think it's a fermenting of the blood around the heart; others say it's an eagerness to inflict pain in return for previous pain; we would call it the impulse to hurt someone who has provoked us. But none of these accounts match the definition of the soul. Again, if we were to define what desire is in itself, we should call it a seeking for what is lacking, or a longing for pleasurable enjoyment, or pain at not possessing what the heart is set on, or a state regarding some pleasure there's no opportunity to enjoy. These and similar descriptions all point to desire, but they have no connection with the definition of the soul. The same is true of all the other conditions we see relating to the soul—those that are mutually opposed to each other, like cowardice and courage, pleasure and pain, fear and contempt, and so on. Each of them seems related to the principle of desire or anger, while having a separate definition marking its own particular nature. Courage and contempt, for instance, show a certain expression of the irascible impulse; the dispositions arising from cowardice and fear show, on the other hand, a reduction and weakening of that same impulse. Pain, again, draws its material from both anger and desire. The impotence of anger, which consists in being unable to punish someone who has caused pain first, itself becomes pain. And the despair of obtaining objects of desire and the absence of things the heart is set on create this same sullen state in the mind. Moreover, the opposite of pain—I mean the sensation of pleasure—like pain, divides itself between anger and desire, for pleasure is the leading motive of both. All these conditions, I say, have some relation to the soul, and yet they are not the soul. They're more like warts growing out of the soul's thinking part, counted as parts of it because they're attached to it, yet they are not that actual thing which the soul is in its essence.

You see, she replied, there is a battle of the reason with them and a struggle to rid the soul of them; and there are men in whom this struggle has ended in success; it was so with Moses, as we know; he was superior both to anger and to desire; the history testifying of him in both respects, that he was meek beyond all men (and by meekness it indicates the absence of all anger and a mind quite devoid of resentment), and that he desired none of those things about which we see the desiring faculty in the generality so active. This could not have been so, if these faculties were nature, and were referable to the contents of man's essence. For it is impossible for one who has come quite outside of his nature to be in Existence at all. But if Moses was at one and the same time in Existence and not in these conditions, then it follows that these conditions are something other than nature and not nature itself. For if, on the one hand, that is truly nature in which the essence of the being is found, and, on the other, the removal of these conditions is in our power, so that their removal not only does no harm, but is even beneficial to the nature, it is clear that these conditions are to be numbered among externals, and are affections, rather than the essence, of the nature; for the essence is that thing only which it is. As for anger, most think it a fermenting of the blood round the heart; others an eagerness to inflict pain in return for a previous pain; we would take it to be the impulse to hurt one who has provoked us. But none of these accounts of it tally with the definition of the soul. Again, if we were to define what desire is in itself, we should call it a seeking for that which is wanting, or a longing for pleasurable enjoyment, or a pain at not possessing that upon which the heart is set, or a state with regard to some pleasure which there is no opportunity of enjoying. These and such-like descriptions all indicate desire, but they have no connection with the definition of the soul. But it is so with regard to all those other conditions also which we see to have some relation to the soul, those, I mean, which are mutually opposed to each other, such as cowardice and courage, pleasure and pain, fear and contempt, and so on; each of them seems akin to the principle of desire or to that of anger, while they have a separate definition to mark their own peculiar nature. Courage and contempt, for instance, exhibit a certain phase of the irascible impulse; the dispositions arising from cowardice and fear exhibit on the other hand a diminution and weakening of that same impulse. Pain, again, draws its material both from anger and desire. For the impotence of anger, which consists in not being able to punish one who has first given pain, becomes itself pain; and the despair of getting objects of desire and the absence of things upon which the heart is set create in the mind this same sullen state. Moreover, the opposite to pain, I mean the sensation of pleasure, like pain, divides itself between anger and desire; for pleasure is the leading motive of them both. All these conditions, I say, have some relation to the soul, and yet they are not the soul, but only like warts growing out of the soul's thinking part, which are reckoned as parts of it because they adhere to it, and yet are not that actual thing which the soul is in its essence.

And yet, I replied to the virgin, we can see that all these conditions provide considerable help for the improvement of those pursuing virtue. Daniel's desire brought him glory, and Phineas' anger pleased God. We have also been told that fear is the beginning of wisdom, and learned from Paul that salvation is the goal of godly sorrow. The Gospel commands us to have contempt for danger, and not being afraid with any terror is simply another way of describing courage, which Wisdom counts among good things. In all this, Scripture shows that such conditions should not be considered weaknesses; weaknesses would not have been used in this way to put virtue into practice.

And yet, I rejoined to the virgin, we see no slight help afforded for improvement to the virtuous from all these conditions. Daniel's desire was his glory; and Phineas' anger pleased the Deity. We have been told, too, that fear is the beginning of wisdom, and learned from Paul that salvation is the goal of the sorrow after a godly sort. The Gospel bids us have a contempt for danger; and the not being afraid with any amazement is nothing else but a describing of courage, and this last is numbered by Wisdom among the things that are good. In all this Scripture shows that such conditions are not to be considered weaknesses; weaknesses would not have been so employed for putting virtue into practice.

I think, the Teacher replied, that I am responsible for this confusion arising from different accounts of the matter. I did not state it as clearly as I could have by introducing a logical order to help us think through these issues. Now, however, I will establish such an order, as far as possible, so that our discussion may proceed logically and leave no room for such contradictions. We declare, then, that the soul's capacity to think, to judge, and to survey the world belongs to it by its very nature. Through this capacity, the soul preserves within itself the image of divine grace, since our reason tells us that divinity itself, whatever it may be in its innermost nature, reveals itself in these very things: universal supervision and the ability to discern between good and evil. But all those elements of the soul that exist on the boundary and are by their nature capable of inclining toward either of two opposites—whose eventual movement toward good or bad depends on how they are used—such as anger, fear, and any other similar emotion of the soul without which human nature cannot be understood—all these we regard as additions from outside. This is because in the Beauty that is man's prototype, no such characteristics are to be found. Now let me offer the following statement as a mere exercise in interpretation. I pray it may escape the sneers of fault-finding listeners. Scripture tells us that the Deity proceeded by a kind of graduated and ordered progression to the creation of man. After the foundations of the universe were laid, as the account records, man did not appear on earth immediately. The creation of animals preceded his, and plants preceded them. Through this, Scripture shows that the vital forces blended with the material world according to a progression. First, life infused itself into non-sentient nature, then advanced into the sentient world, and then ascended to intelligent and rational beings. Accordingly, while all existing things must be either corporeal or spiritual, the corporeal ones are divided into the animate and inanimate. By animate, I mean possessing life. Of the things possessing life, some have sensation, while others have no sensation. Again, of these sentient things, some have reason, while others do not. Since, then, this life of sensation could not possibly exist apart from the matter that is its subject, and the intellectual life could not be embodied without growing within the sentient, for this reason the creation of man is described as coming last, as one who took into himself every single form of life—both that of plants and that seen in animals. His nourishment and growth he derives from vegetable life, for even in plants such processes can be seen when nourishment is drawn in by their roots and given off in fruit and leaves. His sentient organization he derives from animal creation. But his faculty of thought and reason is unique and is a special gift in our nature, to be considered by itself. However, just as this nature has the instinct to acquire the necessities for material existence—an instinct which, when shown in us humans, we call Appetite—and as we acknowledge this belongs to the vegetable form of life, since we can observe it there too as impulses working naturally to satisfy themselves with their proper nourishment and to produce growth, so all the distinctive conditions of animal creation are blended with the intellectual part of the soul. To them, she continued, belongs anger; to them belongs fear; to them all those other opposing activities within us—everything except the faculty of reason and thought. That alone, the choice product, as has been said, of all our life, bears the stamp of the Divine character. But since, according to the view we have just stated, it is impossible for this reasoning faculty to exist in bodily life without existing through sensations, and since sensation is already found existing in animal creation, necessarily, because of this one condition, our soul has contact with the other things that are bound up with it. These are all those phenomena within us that we call passions, which have not been given to human nature for any bad purpose at all. For the Creator would certainly be the author of evil if in them, so deeply rooted as they are in our nature, any necessities of wrongdoing were found. Rather, according to the use our free will makes of them, these emotions of the soul become the instruments of virtue or of vice. They are like iron being fashioned according to the will of the craftsman, which takes whatever shape the idea in his mind prescribes and becomes a sword or some agricultural tool. If, then, our reason, which is our nature's finest part, holds dominion over these imported emotions—as Scripture allegorically declares in the command to humans to rule over the animals—none of them will be active in the service of evil. Fear will only produce obedience within us, anger will produce fortitude, and cowardice caution. The instinct of desire will procure for us the delight that is Divine and perfect. But if reason drops the reins and is dragged behind like a charioteer who has become entangled in his chariot, then these instincts are changed into savagery, just as we see happens among animals. For since reason does not preside over the natural impulses implanted in them, the more aggressive animals, under the command of their anger, mutually destroy each other, while the large and powerful animals gain no benefit themselves from their strength but become, through their lack of reason, slaves to that which has reason. Neither are their desires for pleasure employed on any of the higher objects, nor does any other instinct observable in them result in any profit to themselves. So too with ourselves: if these instincts are not turned by reasoning in the right direction, and if our feelings gain mastery over our mind, the person is changed from a reasoning into an unreasoning being, and from godlike intelligence sinks by the force of these passions to the level of an animal.

I think, replied the Teacher, that I am myself responsible for this confusion arising from different accounts of the matter; for I did not state it as distinctly as I might have, by introducing a certain order of consequences for our consideration. Now, however, some such order shall, as far as it is possible, be devised, so that our essay may advance in the way of logical sequence and so give no room for such contradictions. We declare, then, that the speculative, critical, and world-surveying faculty of the soul is its peculiar property by virtue of its very nature, and that thereby the soul preserves within itself the image of the divine grace; since our reason surmises that divinity itself, whatever it may be in its inmost nature, is manifested in these very things — universal supervision and the critical discernment between good and evil. But all those elements of the soul which lie on the border-land and are capable from their peculiar nature of inclining to either of two opposites (whose eventual determination to the good or to the bad depends on the kind of use they are put to), anger, for instance, and fear, and any other such-like emotion of the soul divested of which human nature cannot be studied — all these we reckon as accretions from without, because in the Beauty which is man's prototype no such characteristics are to be found. Now let the following statement be offered as a mere exercise (in interpretation). I pray that it may escape the sneers of cavilling hearers. Scripture informs us that the Deity proceeded by a sort of graduated and ordered advance to the creation of man. After the foundations of the universe were laid, as the history records, man did not appear on the earth at once; but the creation of the brutes preceded his, and the plants preceded them. Thereby Scripture shows that the vital forces blended with the world of matter according to a gradation; first, it infused itself into insensate nature; and in continuation of this advanced into the sentient world; and then ascended to intelligent and rational beings. Accordingly, while all existing things must be either corporeal or spiritual, the former are divided into the animate and inanimate. By animate, I mean possessed of life: and of the things possessed of life, some have it with sensation, the rest have no sensation. Again, of these sentient things, some have reason, the rest have not. Seeing, then, that this life of sensation could not possibly exist apart from the matter which is the subject of it, and the intellectual life could not be embodied, either, without growing in the sentient, on this account the creation of man is related as coming last, as of one who took up into himself every single form of life, both that of plants and that which is seen in brutes. His nourishment and growth he derives from vegetable life; for even in vegetables such processes are to be seen when aliment is being drawn in by their roots and given off in fruit and leaves. His sentient organization he derives from the brute creation. But his faculty of thought and reason is incommunicable, and is a peculiar gift in our nature, to be considered by itself. However, just as this nature has the instinct acquisitive of the necessaries to material existence — an instinct which, when manifested in us men, we call Appetite — and as we admit this appertains to the vegetable form of life, since we can notice it there too like so many impulses working naturally to satisfy themselves with their kindred aliment and to issue in germination, so all the peculiar conditions of the brute creation are blended with the intellectual part of the soul. To them, she continued, belongs anger; to them belongs fear; to them all those other opposing activities within us; everything except the faculty of reason and thought. That alone, the choice product, as has been said, of all our life, bears the stamp of the Divine character. But since, according to the view which we have just enunciated, it is not possible for this reasoning faculty to exist in the life of the body without existing by means of sensations, and since sensation is already found subsisting in the brute creation, necessarily as it were, by reason of this one condition, our soul has touch with the other things which are knit up with it; and these are all those phænomena within us that we call passions; which have not been allotted to human nature for any bad purpose at all (for the Creator would most certainly be the author of evil, if in them, so deeply rooted as they are in our nature, any necessities of wrong-doing were found), but according to the use which our free will puts them to, these emotions of the soul become the instruments of virtue or of vice. They are like the iron which is being fashioned according to the volition of the artificer, and receives whatever shape the idea which is in his mind prescribes, and becomes a sword or some agricultural implement. Supposing, then, that our reason, which is our nature's choicest part, holds the dominion over these imported emotions (as Scripture allegorically declares in the command to men to rule over the brutes), none of them will be active in the ministry of evil; fear will only generate within us obedience, and anger fortitude, and cowardice caution; and the instinct of desire will procure for us the delight that is Divine and perfect. But if reason drops the reins and is dragged behind like a charioteer who has got entangled in his car, then these instincts are changed into fierceness, just as we see happens among the brutes. For since reason does not preside over the natural impulses that are implanted in them, the more irascible animals, under the generalship of their anger, mutually destroy each other; while the bulky and powerful animals get no good themselves from their strength, but become by their want of reason slaves of that which has reason. Neither are the activities of their desire for pleasure employed on any of the higher objects; nor does any other instinct to be observed in them result in any profit to themselves. Thus too, with ourselves, if these instincts are not turned by reasoning into the right direction, and if our feelings get the mastery of our mind, the man is changed from a reasoning into an unreasoning being, and from godlike intelligence sinks by the force of these passions to the level of the brute.

Deeply moved by these words, I said: To anyone who thinks carefully, your explanation—even though it proceeds in this step-by-step manner and is plain and unadorned—clearly bears the mark of correctness and hits the truth. For those who are skilled only in technical methods of proof, a mere demonstration is enough to convince them. But we agreed that there is something more trustworthy than any of these artificial arguments, namely what the teachings of Holy Scripture point to. So I think it is necessary to examine, in addition to what has been said, whether this inspired teaching agrees with all of it.

Much moved by these words, I said: To any one who reflects indeed, your exposition, advancing as it does in this consecutive manner, though plain and unvarnished, bears sufficiently upon it the stamp of correctness and hits the truth. And to those who are expert only in the technical methods of proof a mere demonstration suffices to convince; but as for ourselves, we were agreed that there is something more trustworthy than any of these artificial conclusions, namely, that which the teachings of Holy Scripture point to: and so I deem that it is necessary to inquire, in addition to what has been said, whether this inspired teaching harmonizes with it all.

And who, she replied, could deny that truth is found only in that which has the seal of Scripture's testimony upon it? So if it is necessary to bring something from the Gospels in support of our view, a study of the Parable of the Wheat and Tares will not be out of place here. The Householder there sowed good seed (and we are clearly the house). But the enemy, having watched for the time when men slept, sowed what was useless among what was good for food, setting the tares right in the middle of the wheat. The two kinds of seed grew up together, for it was not possible that seed placed right in the middle of the wheat should fail to grow up with it. But the Superintendent of the field forbids the servants to gather up the useless crop, because they are growing at the very root of the opposite kind, so as not to uproot the nutritious along with that foreign growth. Now we think that Scripture means by the good seed the corresponding impulses of the soul, each of which, if only they are cultivated for good, necessarily produces the fruit of virtue within us. But since the bad seed of error in judgment concerning the true Beauty, which alone is such by its intrinsic nature, has been scattered among these, and since this has been thrown into shadow by the growth of delusion that springs up alongside it (for the active principle of desire does not germinate and increase in the direction of that natural Beauty which was the object for which it was sown in us, but it has changed its growth so as to move toward a bestial and unthinking state, this very error about Beauty carrying its impulse toward this result; and in the same way the seed of anger does not steel us to be brave, but only arms us to fight with our own people; and the power of loving deserts its intellectual objects and becomes completely mad for the immoderate enjoyment of sense pleasures; and so in like manner our other affections put forth the worse instead of the better growths)—on account of this the wise Husbandman leaves this growth that has been introduced among his seed to remain there, so as to ensure we are not altogether stripped of better hopes by desire having been rooted out along with that worthless growth. If our nature suffered such a mutilation, what would there be to lift us up to grasp the heavenly delights? If love is taken from us, how shall we be united to God? If anger is to be extinguished, what arms shall we possess against the adversary? Therefore the Husbandman leaves those illegitimate seeds within us, not for them always to overwhelm the more precious crop, but in order that the land itself (for so, in his allegory, he calls the heart) by its native inherent power, which is that of reasoning, may wither up the one growth and may render the other fruitful and abundant. But if that is not done, then he assigns the fire to mark the distinction in the crops. If, then, a man indulges these affections in due proportion and holds them in his own power instead of being held in theirs, employing them as an instrument as a king does his subjects' many hands, then efforts toward excellence more easily succeed for him. But should he become theirs, and, as when slaves mutiny against their master, get enslaved by those slavish thoughts and ignominiously bow before them—a prey to his natural inferiors—he will be forced to turn to those employments which his imperious masters command. This being so, we shall not pronounce these emotions of the soul, which lie in the power of their possessors for good or ill, to be either virtue or vice. But whenever their impulse is toward what is noble, then they become matter for praise, as his desire did for Daniel, and his anger for Phineas, and their grief for those who nobly mourn. But if they incline to baseness, then these are, and they are called, bad passions.

And who, she replied, could deny that truth is to be found only in that upon which the seal of Scriptural testimony is set? So, if it is necessary that something from the Gospels should be adduced in support of our view, a study of the Parable of the Wheat and Tares will not be here out of place. The Householder there sowed good seed; (and we are plainly the house). But the enemy, having watched for the time when men slept, sowed that which was useless in that which was good for food, setting the tares in the very middle of the wheat. The two kinds of seed grew up together; for it was not possible that seed put into the very middle of the wheat should fail to grow up with it. But the Superintendent of the field forbids the servants to gather up the useless crop, on account of their growing at the very root of the contrary sort; so as not to root up the nutritious along with that foreign growth. Now we think that Scripture means by the good seed the corresponding impulses of the soul, each one of which, if only they are cultured for good, necessarily puts forth the fruit of virtue within us. But since there has been scattered among these the bad seed of the error of judgment as to the true Beauty which is alone in its intrinsic nature such, and since this last has been thrown into the shade by the growth of delusion which springs up along with it (for the active principle of desire does not germinate and increase in the direction of that natural Beauty which was the object of its being sown in us, but it has changed its growth so as to move towards a bestial and unthinking state, this very error as to Beauty carrying its impulse towards this result; and in the same way the seed of anger does not steel us to be brave, but only arms us to fight with our own people; and the power of loving deserts its intellectual objects and becomes completely mad for the immoderate enjoyment of pleasures of sense; and so in like manner our other affections put forth the worse instead of the better growths) — on account of this the wise Husbandman leaves this growth that has been introduced among his seed to remain there, so as to secure our not being altogether stripped of better hopes by desire having been rooted out along with that good-for-nothing growth. If our nature suffered such a mutilation, what will there be to lift us up to grasp the heavenly delights? If love is taken from us, how shall we be united to God? If anger is to be extinguished, what arms shall we possess against the adversary? Therefore the Husbandman leaves those bastard seeds within us, not for them always to overwhelm the more precious crop, but in order that the land itself (for so, in his allegory, he calls the heart) by its native inherent power, which is that of reasoning, may wither up the one growth and may render the other fruitful and abundant: but if that is not done, then he commissions the fire to mark the distinction in the crops. If, then, a man indulges these affections in a due proportion and holds them in his own power instead of being held in theirs, employing them for an instrument as a king does his subjects' many hands, then efforts towards excellence more easily succeed for him. But should he become theirs, and, as when any slaves mutiny against their master, get enslaved by those slavish thoughts and ignominiously bow before them; a prey to his natural inferiors, he will be forced to turn to those employments which his imperious masters command. This being so, we shall not pronounce these emotions of the soul, which lie in the power of their possessors for good or ill, to be either virtue or vice. But, whenever their impulse is towards what is noble, then they become matter for praise, as his desire did to Daniel, and his anger to Phineas, and their grief to those who nobly mourn. But if they incline to baseness, then these are, and they are called, bad passions.

She stopped speaking after this statement and allowed a brief pause in the discussion. During this time, I mentally reviewed everything that had been said. Going back to that earlier line of argument in her discourse—that it was not impossible for the soul after the body's death to remain within its atoms—I spoke to her again. Where then is that much-discussed and famous Hades? The word circulates frequently both in everyday conversation and in the writings of the pagans and in our own Scriptures, and everyone thinks that souls migrate there from here, as into a place of safekeeping. Surely you would not call your atoms that Hades.

She ceased after this statement and allowed the discussion a short interval, in which I reviewed mentally all that had been said; and reverting to that former course of proof in her discourse, that it was not impossible that the soul after the body's dissolution should reside in its atoms, I again addressed her. Where is that much-talked-of and renowned Hades, then? The word is in frequent circulation both in the intercourse of daily life, and in the writings of the heathens and in our own; and all think that into it, as into a place of safe-keeping, souls migrate from here. Surely you would not call your atoms that Hades.

Clearly, the Teacher replied, you haven't paid close attention to the argument. When I spoke about the soul's migration from the visible to the invisible realm, I thought I had left out nothing concerning the question about Hades. It seems to me that, whether in pagan writings or in the Divine Scriptures, this word referring to a place where souls are said to exist means nothing other than a transition to that unseen world of which we have no glimpse.

Clearly, replied the Teacher, you have not quite attended to the argument. In speaking of the soul's migration from the seen to the unseen, I thought I had omitted nothing as regards the question about Hades. It seems to me that, whether in the heathen or in the Divine writings, this word for a place in which souls are said to be means nothing else but a transition to that Unseen world of which we have no glimpse.

And how, then, I asked, is it that some people think the underworld is an actual physical place that holds within itself the souls that have finally departed from human life, drawing them to itself as the proper container for such natures?

And how, then, I asked, is it that some think that by the underworld is meant an actual place, and that it harbours within itself the souls that have at last flitted away from human life, drawing them towards itself as the right receptacle for such natures?

The Teacher replied: Our teaching won't be harmed at all by such an assumption. For if what you say is true, and the vault of heaven extends continuously so that it encircles everything, and the earth and its surroundings are balanced in the middle, and all the revolving bodies move around this fixed and solid center, then it follows by absolute necessity that whatever happens to any of the atoms on the upper side of the earth will also happen on the opposite side, since one single substance encompasses the earth's entire bulk. When the sun shines above the earth, shadow spreads over its lower part, because the earth's spherical shape makes it impossible for the rays to cover it completely all at once. Necessarily, wherever the sun's rays fall on some particular point of the globe, if we follow a straight diameter, we'll find shadow on the opposite point. Continuously, at the opposite end of the direct line of rays, shadow moves around the globe, keeping pace with the sun, so that both the upper and lower halves of the earth are in light and darkness equally in turn. By this analogy, we have reason to be certain that whatever happens to the atoms in our hemisphere will also happen to them in the other. Since the environment of the atoms is one and the same on every side of the earth, I think it right neither to contradict nor to support those who argue that we must regard either this region or the lower one as assigned to the released souls. As long as this objection doesn't shake our central doctrine that these souls exist after life in the flesh, there's no need for controversy about their location. We hold that place is a property of body only, and that soul, being immaterial, is not by its nature necessarily confined to any place.

Well, replied the Teacher, our doctrine will be in no ways injured by such a supposition. For if it is true, what you say, and also that the vault of heaven prolongs itself so uninterruptedly that it encircles all things with itself, and that the earth and its surroundings are poised in the middle, and that the motion of all the revolving bodies is round this fixed and solid centre, then, I say, there is an absolute necessity that, whatever may happen to each one of the atoms on the upper side of the earth, the same will happen on the opposite side, seeing that one single substance encompasses its entire bulk. As, when the sun shines above the earth, the shadow is spread over its lower part, because its spherical shape makes it impossible for it to be clasped all round at one and the same time by the rays, and necessarily, on whatever side the sun's rays may fall on some particular point of the globe, if we follow a straight diameter, we shall find shadow upon the opposite point, and so, continuously, at the opposite end of the direct line of the rays shadow moves round that globe, keeping pace with the sun, so that equally in their turn both the upper half and the under half of the earth are in light and darkness; so, by this analogy, we have reason to be certain that, whatever in our hemisphere is observed to befall the atoms, the same will befall them in that other. The environment of the atoms being one and the same on every side of the earth, I deem it right neither to contradict nor yet to favour those who raise the objection that we must regard either this or the lower region as assigned to the souls released. As long as this objection does not shake our central doctrine of the existence of those souls after the life in the flesh, there need be no controversy about the whereabouts to our mind, holding as we do that place is a property of body only, and that soul, being immaterial, is by no necessity of its nature detained in any place.

But what, I asked, if your opponent should use the Apostle as a defense, where he says that every reasoning creature, in the restoration of all things, is to look toward Him who presides over the whole? In that passage in the Epistle to the Philippians he mentions certain things that are under the earth: every knee shall bow to Him of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth.

But what, I asked, if your opponent should shield himself behind the Apostle, where he says that every reasoning creature, in the restitution of all things, is to look towards Him Who presides over the whole? In that passage in the Epistle to the Philippians Philippians 2:10 he makes mention of certain things that are under the earth every knee shall bow to Him of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth.

We will hold to our teaching, the Teacher replied, even if we hear them bringing up these words. Since our opponent agrees that the soul exists after death, we do not raise an objection about the place, as we just said.

We shall stand by our doctrine, answered the Teacher, even if we should hear them adducing these words. For the existence of the soul (after death) we have the assent of our opponent, and so we do not make an objection as to the place, as we have just said.

But if someone were to ask what the Apostle means in this statement, what should one say? Would you remove all reference to place from the passage?

But if some were to ask the meaning of the Apostle in this utterance, what is one to say? Would you remove all signification of place from the passage?

I do not think, she replied, that the divine Apostle divided the intellectual world into localities when he named part as in heaven, part as on earth, and part as under the earth. There are three states in which reasoning creatures can exist: one received an immaterial life from the very beginning, and we call it the angelic; another is united with the flesh, and we call it the human; a third is released by death from fleshly entanglements and is found in souls pure and simple. Now I think that the divine Apostle in his deep wisdom looked to this when he revealed the future harmony of all these reasoning beings in the work of goodness. He places the unembodied angelic world in heaven, that which is still involved with a body on earth, and that which is released from a body under the earth. Indeed, if there is any other world to be classified under that which possesses reason, it is not left out. Whether anyone chooses to call this last demons or spirits or anything else of the kind, we shall not care. We certainly believe, both because of the prevailing opinion and even more because of Scripture's teaching, that there exists another world of beings besides, stripped of such bodies as ours are, who are opposed to that which is good and are capable of harming the lives of men, having by an act of will fallen from the nobler view, and by this revolt from goodness personified in themselves the contrary principle. This world is what, some say, the Apostle adds to the number of the things under the earth, signifying in that passage that when evil shall have been someday annihilated in the long revolutions of the ages, nothing shall be left outside the world of goodness, but that even from those evil spirits shall rise in harmony the confession of Christ's Lordship. If this is so, then no one can compel us to see any spot of the underworld in the expression "things under the earth." The atmosphere spreads equally over every part of the earth, and there is not a single corner of it left uncovered by this surrounding air.

I do not think, she replied, that the divine Apostle divided the intellectual world into localities, when he named part as in heaven, part as on earth, and part as under the earth. There are three states in which reasoning creatures can be: one from the very first received an immaterial life, and we call it the angelic: another is in union with the flesh, and we call it the human: a third is released by death from fleshly entanglements, and is to be found in souls pure and simple. Now I think that the divine Apostle in his deep wisdom looked to this, when he revealed the future concord of all these reasoning beings in the work of goodness; and that he puts the unembodied angel-world in heaven, and that still involved with a body on earth, and that released from a body under the earth; or, indeed, if there is any other world to be classed under that which is possessed of reason (it is not left out); and whether any one choose to call this last demons or spirits, or anything else of the kind, we shall not care. We certainly believe, both because of the prevailing opinion, and still more of Scripture teaching, that there exists another world of beings besides, divested of such bodies as ours are, who are opposed to that which is good and are capable of hurting the lives of men, having by an act of will lapsed from the nobler view, and by this revolt from goodness personified in themselves the contrary principle; and this world is what, some say, the Apostle adds to the number of the things under the earth, signifying in that passage that when evil shall have been some day annihilated in the long revolutions of the ages, nothing shall be left outside the world of goodness, but that even from those evil spirits shall rise in harmony the confession of Christ's Lordship. If this is so, then no one can compel us to see any spot of the underworld in the expression, things under the earth; the atmosphere spreads equally over every part of the earth, and there is not a single corner of it left unrobed by this circumambient air.

When she had finished, I hesitated a moment, and then said: I am not yet satisfied about the thing we have been inquiring into. After all that has been said, my mind is still in doubt, and I beg that our discussion may be allowed to return to the same line of reasoning as before, leaving out only what we have fully agreed upon. I say this because I think that all but the most stubborn debaters will have been sufficiently convinced by our discussion not to condemn the soul to annihilation and nonexistence after the body's dissolution, nor to argue that because it differs in substance from the atoms it is impossible for it to exist anywhere in the universe. However much a being that is intellectual and immaterial may fail to coincide with these atoms, it is in no way prevented (so far) from existing in them. This belief of ours rests on two facts: first, on the soul's existing in our bodies in this present life, though fundamentally different from them; and second, on the fact that the Divine being, as our argument has shown, though distinctly something other than visible and material substances, nevertheless pervades each one among all existences, and by this penetration of the whole keeps the world in a state of being. Following these analogies, we need not think that the soul, either, is out of existence when she passes from the world of forms to the Unseen. But how, I insisted, after the united whole of the atoms has assumed, owing to their mixing together, a form quite different—the form in fact with which the soul has been actually living—by what mark, when this form, as we should have expected, is erased along with the dissolution of the atoms, shall the soul follow along them, now that that familiar form ceases to exist?

When she had finished, I hesitated a moment, and then said: I am not yet satisfied about the thing which we have been inquiring into; after all that has been said my mind is still in doubt; and I beg that our discussion may be allowed to revert to the same line of reasoning as before, omitting only that upon which we are thoroughly agreed. I say this, for I think that all but the most stubborn controversialists will have been sufficiently convinced by our debate not to consign the soul after the body's dissolution to annihilation and nonentity, nor to argue that because it differs substantially from the atoms it is impossible for it to exist anywhere in the universe; for, however much a being that is intellectual and immaterial may fail to coincide with these atoms, it is in no ways hindered (so far) from existing in them; and this belief of ours rests on two facts: firstly, on the soul's existing in our bodies in this present life, though fundamentally different from them: and secondly, on the fact that the Divine being, as our argument has shown, though distinctly something other than visible and material substances, nevertheless pervades each one among all existences, and by this penetration of the whole keeps the world in a state of being; so that following these analogies we need not think that the soul, either, is out of existence, when she passes from the world of forms to the Unseen. But how, I insisted, after the united whole of the atoms has assumed, owing to their mixing together, a form quite different — the form in fact with which the soul has been actually domesticated — by what mark, when this form, as we should have expected, is effaced along with the resolution of the atoms, shall the soul follow along (them), now that that familiar form ceases to persist?

She waited a moment and then said: Let me create an imaginative comparison to illustrate the matter before us, even though what I'm proposing may be outside the realm of possibility. Suppose it were possible in the art of painting not only to mix opposite colors together, as painters always do to represent a particular shade, but also to separate this mixture again and restore each color to its natural dye. If white, black, red, golden, or any other color that has been mixed to form the given shade were to be separated again from that union with another and remain by itself, we assume that our artist will nonetheless remember the actual nature of that color, and that he will never forget either the red, for instance, or the black, even if after becoming quite a different color through composition with each other they each return to their natural dye. We assume, I say, that our artist remembers how these colors blended together, and so knows what sort of color was mixed with a given color and what sort of color resulted, and how, when the other color was removed from the composition, the original color resumed its own distinctive hue as a result of such release. And supposing it were necessary to produce the same result again by composition, the process would be much easier from having been already practiced in his previous work. Now, if reason can see any parallel in this comparison, we must examine the matter at hand by its light. Let the soul stand for this art of the painter, and let the natural atoms stand for the colors of his art, and let the mixture of that shade compounded from the various dyes, and the return of these to their native state (which we have been allowed to assume), represent respectively the coming together and the separation of the atoms. Then, just as we assume in the comparison that the painter's art tells him the actual dye of each color when it has returned after mixing to its proper hue, so that he has exact knowledge of the red, and of the black, and of any other color that went to form the required shade by a specific way of uniting with another kind—a knowledge which includes its appearance both in the mixture and now when it is in its natural state and in the future again, supposing all the colors were mixed over again in the same way—so, we assert, does the soul know the natural characteristics of those atoms whose coming together makes the frame of the body in which it has itself grown, even after the scattering of those atoms. However far from each other their natural tendency and their inherent forces of repulsion drive them, and prevent each from mingling with its opposite, nonetheless the soul will be near each through its power of recognition, and will persistently cling to the familiar atoms, until their coming together after this division takes place again in the same way, for that fresh formation of the dissolved body which will properly be, and be called, resurrection.

She waited a moment and then said: Give me leave to invent a fanciful simile in order to illustrate the matter before us: even though that which I suppose may be outside the range of possibility. Grant it possible, then, in the art of painting not only to mix opposite colors, as painters are always doing, to represent a particular tint, but also to separate again this mixture and to restore to each of the colors its natural dye. If then white, or black, or red, or golden color, or any other color that has been mixed to form the given tint, were to be again separated from that union with another and remain by itself, we suppose that our artist will none the less remember the actual nature of that color, and that in no case will he show forgetfulness, either of the red, for instance, or the black, if after having become quite a different color by composition with each other they each return to their natural dye. We suppose, I say, that our artist remembers the manner of the mutual blending of these colors, and so knows what sort of color was mixed with a given color and what sort of color was the result, and how, the other color being ejected from the composition, (the original color) in consequence of such release resumed its own peculiar hue; and, supposing it were required to produce the same result again by composition, the process will be all the easier from having been already practised in his previous work. Now, if reason can see any analogy in this simile, we must search the matter in hand by its light. Let the soul stand for this Art of the painter; and let the natural atoms stand for the colors of his art; and let the mixture of that tint compounded of the various dyes, and the return of these to their native state (which we have been allowed to assume), represent respectively the concourse, and the separation of the atoms. Then, as we assume in the simile that the painter's Art tells him the actual dye of each color, when it has returned after mixing to its proper hue, so that he has an exact knowledge of the red, and of the black, and of any other color that went to form the required tint by a specific way of uniting with another kind — a knowledge which includes its appearance both in the mixture, and now when it is in its natural state, and in the future again, supposing all the colors were mixed over again in like fashion — so, we assert, does the soul know the natural peculiarities of those atoms whose concourse makes the frame of the body in which it has itself grown, even after the scattering of those atoms. However far from each other their natural propensity and their inherent forces of repulsion urge them, and debar each from mingling with its opposite, none the less will the soul be near each by its power of recognition, and will persistently cling to the familiar atoms, until their concourse after this division again takes place in the same way, for that fresh formation of the dissolved body which will properly be, and be called, resurrection.

You seem, I interrupted, with this passing remark to have made an excellent defense of the faith in the Resurrection. Through it, I think, those who oppose this doctrine might be gradually brought to see that it is not absolutely impossible for the atoms to come together again and form the same person as before.

You seem, I interrupted, in this passing remark to have made an excellent defense of the faith in the Resurrection. By it, I think, the opponents of this doctrine might be gradually led to consider it not as a thing absolutely impossible that the atoms should again coalesce and form the same man as before.

That is very true, the Teacher replied. For we may hear these opponents raising the following difficulty. The atoms are dissolved back into the universe, each returning to its like. So by what means does the warmth, for example, that existed in a particular man, after it has joined with the universal warmth, separate itself again from this union with its kindred element in order to form this man who is being reconstituted? For if the identical individual particle does not return, and only something that is similar in kind but not numerically identical is brought back, you will have something different in place of the original thing, and such a process will no longer be a resurrection but merely the creation of a new man. But if the same man is to return to himself, he must be the same in every respect and must recover his original form in every single atom of his elements.

That is very true, the Teacher replied. For we may hear these opponents urging the following difficulty. The atoms are resolved, like to like, into the universe; by what device, then, does the warmth, for instance, residing in such and such a man, after joining the universal warmth, again dissociate itself from this connection with its kindred, so as to form this man who is being 'remoulded'? For if the identical individual particle does not return and only something that is homogeneous but not identical is fetched, you will have something else in the place of that first thing, and such a process will cease to be a resurrection and will be merely the creation of a new man. But if the same man is to return into himself, he must be the same entirely, and regain his original formation in every single atom of his elements.

To answer such an objection, I responded, the view about the soul I mentioned earlier will help. The soul remains after death in those very atoms where it first developed. Like a guardian watching over private property, it does not abandon them when they mix with similar atoms. Through the subtle reach of her intelligence, she makes no mistake about identifying them, despite their tiny size. She spreads herself along with those atoms that belong to her as they mingle with similar particles, and she never grows too weak to keep track of all of them when they flow back into the universe. She stays with them, no matter where or how Nature arranges them. But when the All-disposing Power gives the signal for these scattered atoms to reunite, then, just as all the various ropes hanging from one pulley respond at the same moment to the pull from that center, so all these atoms that were once familiar with each other rush together simultaneously, following this force of the soul acting upon them. They form the body's structure through the soul, with each individual atom joining its former neighbor and embracing an old companion.

Then to meet such an objection, I rejoined, the above opinion about the soul will, as I said, avail; namely, that she remains after dissolution in those very atoms in which she first grew up, and, like a guardian placed over private property, does not abandon them when they are mingled with their kindred atoms, and by the subtle ubiquity of her intelligence makes no mistake about them, with all their subtle minuteness, but diffuses herself along with those which belong to herself when they are being mingled with their kindred dust, and suffers no exhaustion in keeping up with the whole number of them when they stream back into the universe, but remains with them, no matter in what direction or in what fashion Nature may arrange them. But should the signal be given by the All-disposing Power for these scattered atoms to combine again, then, just as when every one of the various ropes that hang from one block answer at one and the same moment to the pull from that centre, so, following this force of the soul which acts upon the various atoms, all these, once so familiar with each other, rush simultaneously together and form the cable of the body by means of the soul, each single one of them being wedded to its former neighbour and embracing an old acquaintance.

The Teacher continued, saying that the following illustration could also be appropriately added to those already presented, to show that the soul does not need much instruction to distinguish its own atoms from foreign ones. Imagine a potter with a supply of clay—a large supply. Suppose that part of it has already been shaped into finished vessels, while the rest is still waiting to be molded. Suppose also that the vessels themselves are not all of similar shape, but one is a jug, for instance, and another is a wine-jar, another is a plate, another is a cup or some other useful vessel. Furthermore, let not one owner possess them all, but imagine that each has a special owner. Now as long as these vessels are unbroken, they are of course recognizable by their owners, and no less so even if they are broken in pieces. From those pieces each owner will know, for instance, that this belongs to a jar, and again, what sort of fragment belongs to a cup. And if they are plunged back into the unworked clay, the discernment between what has already been worked and that clay will be even more accurate. The individual human being is such a vessel. He has been molded out of the universal matter, owing to the coming together of his atoms, and he exhibits in a form peculiarly his own a marked distinction from his kind. When that form has gone to pieces, the soul that has been mistress of this particular vessel will have an exact knowledge of it, derived even from its fragments. Nor will she leave this property, either, in the common blending with all the other fragments, or if it is plunged into the still formless part of the matter from which the atoms have come. She always remembers her own as it was when compact in bodily form, and after dissolution she never makes any mistake about it, led by marks still clinging to the remains.

The following illustration also, the Teacher went on, might be very properly added to those already brought forward, to show that the soul has not need of much teaching in order to distinguish its own from the alien among the atoms. Imagine a potter with a supply of clay; and let the supply be a large one; and let part of it have been already moulded to form finished vessels, while the rest is still waiting to be moulded; and suppose the vessels themselves not to be all of similar shape, but one to be a jug, for instance, and another a wine-jar, another a plate, another a cup or any other useful vessel; and further, let not one owner possess them all, but let us fancy for each a special owner. Now as long as these vessels are unbroken they are of course recognizable by their owners, and none the less so, even should they be broken in pieces; for from those pieces each will know, for instance, that this belongs to a jar, and, again, what sort of fragment belongs to a cup. And if they are plunged again into the unworked clay, the discernment between what has been already worked and that clay will be a more unerring one still. The individual man is as such a vessel; he has been moulded out of the universal matter, owing to the concourse of his atoms; and he exhibits in a form peculiarly his own a marked distinction from his kind; and when that form has gone to pieces the soul that has been mistress of this particular vessel will have an exact knowledge of it, derived even from its fragments; nor will she leave this property, either, in the common blending with all the other fragments, or if it be plunged into the still formless part of the matter from which the atoms have come; she always remembers her own as it was when compact in bodily form, and after dissolution she never makes any mistake about it, led by marks still clinging to the remains.

I praised this example as well suited to illustrate the natural features of the case we were considering, and I said: It is very good to speak this way and to believe that this is so; but suppose someone were to quote against it our Lord's account about those who are in hell, claiming it does not harmonize with the results of our inquiry—how should we prepare an answer?

I applauded this as well devised to bring out the natural features of the case before us; and I said: It is very well to speak like this and to believe that it is so; but suppose some one were to quote against it our Lord's narrative about those who are in hell, as not harmonizing with the results of our inquiry, how are we to be prepared with an answer?

The Teacher answered: The language of that narrative is certainly physical, but many hints are scattered throughout it to prompt the careful reader to examine it more thoughtfully. I mean that the One who separates the good from the bad by a great gulf, who shows the man in torment begging for a drop of water to be brought by a finger, who shows the man who suffered in this life resting on a patriarch's bosom, and who describes their earlier death and burial in the tomb—this One leads an intelligent interpreter of His meaning far beyond a surface-level reading. For what kind of eyes does the Rich Man lift up in hell when he has left his physical eyes in that tomb? And how can a spirit without a body feel any flame? And what kind of tongue can he want cooled with a drop of water when he has lost his tongue of flesh? What is the finger that is supposed to bring him this drop? What kind of place is the bosom of rest? The bodies of both men are in the tomb, and their souls are without bodies and do not have physical parts. So it is impossible to make the structure of the narrative match reality if we understand it literally. We can only do that by translating each detail into its equivalent in the realm of ideas. Therefore we must think of the gulf as what keeps concepts that must not be mixed from running together, not as a physical crack in the earth. No matter how vast such a crack might be, a spirit without a body could cross it with no difficulty, since intelligence can instantly be wherever it wishes.

The Teacher answered: The expressions of that narrative of the Word are certainly material; but still many hints are interspersed in it to rouse the skilled inquirer to a more discriminating study of it. I mean that He Who parts the good from the bad by a great gulf, and makes the man in torment crave for a drop to be conveyed by a finger, and the man who has been ill-treated in this life rest on a patriarch's bosom, and Who relates their previous death and consignment to the tomb, takes an intelligent searcher of His meaning far beyond a superficial interpretation. For what sort of eyes has the Rich Man to lift up in hell, when he has left his bodily eyes in that tomb? And how can a disembodied spirit feel any flame? And what sort of tongue can he crave to be cooled with the drop of water, when he has lost his tongue of flesh? What is the finger that is to convey to him this drop? What sort of place is the bosom of repose? The bodies of both of them are in the tomb, and their souls are disembodied, and do not consist of parts either; and so it is impossible to make the framework of the narrative correspond with the truth, if we understand it literally; we can do that only by translating each detail into an equivalent in the world of ideas. Thus we must think of the gulf as that which parts ideas which may not be confounded from running together, not as a chasm of the earth. Such a chasm, however vast it were, could be traversed with no difficulty by a disembodied intelligence; since intelligence can in no time be wherever it will.

What then, I asked, are the fire and the gulf and the other features in the picture? Are they not what they are said to be?

What then, I asked, are the fire and the gulf and the other features in the picture? Are they not that which they are said to be?

I think, she replied, that the Gospel signifies through each of these certain teachings about our question of the soul. When the patriarch first says to the Rich Man, "You in your lifetime received your good things," and speaks the same way about the Poor Man—that he has done his duty in bearing his share of life's evil things—and then adds about the gulf that it is a barrier between them, he clearly indicates a very important truth through these expressions. In my view, it is as follows.

At first, human life had only one character. By this I mean it was found only in the category of the good and had no contact with evil. The first of God's commandments confirms this truth—the one that gave man unlimited enjoyment of all the blessings of Paradise, forbidding only what was a mixture of good and evil and thus composed of opposites, but making death the penalty for transgressing in that particular matter. But man, acting freely by a voluntary impulse, abandoned the lot that was unmixed with evil and drew upon himself what was a mixture of opposites. Yet Divine Providence did not leave our recklessness without a corrective. Death, as the fixed penalty for breaking the law, necessarily fell upon those who transgressed it. But God divided the life of man into two parts: this present life, and the life out of the body hereafter. He placed on the first a limit of the briefest possible time, while He prolonged the other into eternity. And in His love for man, He gave him his choice to have one or the other of those things—good or evil, I mean—in whichever of the two parts he preferred: either in this short and passing life, or in those endless ages whose limit is infinity.

Now these terms "good" and "evil" are equivocal; they are used in two senses, one relating to the mind and the other to the senses. Some classify as good whatever is pleasant to the senses; others are confident that only what is perceptible by the intellect is good and deserves that name. Those whose reasoning powers have never been exercised and who have never caught a glimpse of the better way soon use up on gluttony in this fleshly life the portion of good that their constitution can claim, and they reserve none of it for the afterlife. But those who by a wise and sober-minded calculation manage the powers of living experience things painful to the senses here, but they reserve their good for the succeeding life, and so their happier lot is extended to last as long as that eternal life.

This, in my opinion, is the gulf. It is not made by the splitting of the earth, but by those decisions in this life that result in a separation into opposite characters. The man who has once chosen pleasure in this life and has not cured his thoughtlessness by repentance places the land of the good beyond his own reach, for he has dug against himself the yawning, impassable abyss of a necessity that nothing can break through.

This is the reason, I think, that the name of Abraham's bosom is given to that good situation of the soul in which Scripture makes the athlete of endurance rest. For it is said of this patriarch—the first of all born up to that time—that he exchanged the enjoyment of the present for the hope of the future. He was stripped of all the surroundings in which his life at first was lived and resided among foreigners, and thus purchased future blessedness through present hardship. Just as figuratively we call a particular section of the ocean a bosom, so Scripture seems to me to express the idea of those immeasurable blessings above by the word "bosom," meaning a place into which all virtuous voyagers of this life are, when they have departed from here, brought to anchor in the waveless harbor of that gulf of blessings. Meanwhile, the denial of these blessings that they witness becomes in the others a flame that burns the soul and causes the craving for the refreshment of one drop out of that ocean of blessings in which the saints are rich—which nevertheless they do not receive.

If you also consider the tongue, the eye, the finger, and the other names of bodily organs that occur in the conversation between those disembodied souls, you will be convinced that this conjecture of ours about them agrees with the opinion we have already stated about the soul. Look closely at the meaning of those words. For just as the gathering of atoms forms the substance of the entire body, so it is reasonable to think that the same cause operates to complete the substance of each member of the body. If, then, the soul is present with the atoms of the body when they are again mingled with the universe, it will not only be aware of the entire mass that once came together to form the whole body and will be present with it, but beyond that, will not fail to know the particular materials of each one of the members, so as to remember by what divisions among the atoms our limbs were completely formed. There is, then, nothing improbable in supposing that what is present in the complete mass is present also in each division of the mass. If one, then, thinks of those atoms in which each detail of the body potentially exists, and understands that Scripture means a finger and a tongue and an eye and the rest as existing, after dissolution, only in the sphere of the soul, one will not miss the probable truth.

Moreover, if each detail draws the mind away from a material interpretation of the story, surely the hell we have just been speaking of cannot reasonably be thought a place so named; rather we are told there by Scripture about a certain unseen and immaterial situation in which the soul resides.

In this story of the Rich and Poor Man we are taught another doctrine also, which is closely connected with our earlier discoveries. The story makes the sensual, pleasure-loving man, when he sees that his own case is one that admits no escape, show concern for his relatives on earth. And when Abraham tells him that the life of those still in the flesh is not without guidance—for they may find it at hand, if they will, in the Law and the Prophets—he still continues pleading with that Just Patriarch, and asks that a sudden and convincing message, brought by someone risen from the dead, be sent to them.

I think, she replied, that the Gospel signifies by means of each of them certain doctrines with regard to our question of the soul. For when the patriarch first says to the Rich Man, You in your lifetime received your good things, and in the same way speaks of the Poor Man, that he, namely, has done his duty in bearing his share of life's evil things, and then, after that, adds with regard to the gulf that it is a barrier between them, he evidently by such expressions intimates a very important truth; and, to my thinking, it is as follows. Once man's life had but one character; and by that I mean that it was to be found only in the category of the good and had no contact with evil. The first of God's commandments attests the truth of this; that, namely, which gave to man unstinted enjoyment of all the blessings of Paradise, forbidding only that which was a mixture of good and evil and so composed of contraries, but making death the penalty for transgressing in that particular. But man, acting freely by a voluntary impulse, deserted the lot that was unmixed with evil, and drew upon himself that which was a mixture of contraries. Yet Divine Providence did not leave that recklessness of ours without a corrective. Death indeed, as the fixed penalty for breaking the law, necessarily fell upon its transgressors; but God divided the life of man into two parts, namely, this present life, and that out of the body hereafter; and He placed on the first a limit of the briefest possible time, while He prolonged the other into eternity; and in His love for man He gave him his choice, to have the one or the other of those things, good or evil, I mean, in which of the two parts he liked: either in this short and transitory life, or in those endless ages, whose limit is infinity. Now these expressions good and evil are equivocal; they are used in two senses, one relating to mind and the other to sense; some classify as good whatever is pleasant to feeling: others are confident that only that which is perceptible by intelligence is good and deserves that name. Those, then, whose reasoning powers have never been exercised and who have never had a glimpse of the better way soon use up on gluttony in this fleshly life the dividend of good which their constitution can claim, and they reserve none of it for the after life; but those who by a discreet and sober-minded calculation economize the powers of living are afflicted by things painful to sense here, but they reserve their good for the succeeding life, and so their happier lot is lengthened out to last as long as that eternal life. This, in my opinion, is the gulf; which is not made by the parting of the earth, but by those decisions in this life which result in a separation into opposite characters. The man who has once chosen pleasure in this life, and has not cured his inconsiderateness by repentance, places the land of the good beyond his own reach; for he has dug against himself the yawning impassable abyss of a necessity that nothing can break through. This is the reason, I think, that the name of Abraham's bosom is given to that good situation of the soul in which Scripture makes the athlete of endurance repose. For it is related of this patriarch first, of all up to that time born, that he exchanged the enjoyment of the present for the hope of the future; he was stripped of all the surroundings in which his life at first was passed, and resided among foreigners, and thus purchased by present annoyance future blessedness. As then figuratively we call a particular circuit of the ocean a bosom, so does Scripture seem to me to express the idea of those measureless blessings above by the word bosom, meaning a place into which all virtuous voyagers of this life are, when they have put in from hence, brought to anchor in the waveless harbour of that gulf of blessings. Meanwhile the denial of these blessings which they witness becomes in the others a flame, which burns the soul and causes the craving for the refreshment of one drop out of that ocean of blessings wherein the saints are affluent; which nevertheless they do not get. If, too, you consider the tongue, and the eye, and the finger, and the other names of bodily organs, which occur in the conversation between those disembodied souls, you will be persuaded that this conjecture of ours about them chimes in with the opinion we have already stated about the soul. Look closely into the meaning of those words. For as the concourse of atoms forms the substance of the entire body, so it is reasonable to think that the same cause operates to complete the substance of each member of the body. If, then, the soul is present with the atoms of the body when they are again mingled with the universe, it will not only be cognizant of the entire mass which once came together to form the whole body, and will be present with it, but, besides that, will not fail to know the particular materials of each one of the members, so as to remember by what divisions among the atoms our limbs were completely formed. There is, then, nothing improbable in supposing that what is present in the complete mass is present also in each division of the mass. If one, then, thinks of those atoms in which each detail of the body potentially inheres, and surmises that Scripture means a finger and a tongue and an eye and the rest as existing, after dissolution, only in the sphere of the soul, one will not miss the probable truth. Moreover, if each detail carries the mind away from a material acceptation of the story, surely the hell which we have just been speaking of cannot reasonably be thought a place so named; rather we are there told by Scripture about a certain unseen and immaterial situation in which the soul resides. In this story of the Rich and the Poor Man we are taught another doctrine also, which is intimately connected with our former discoveries. The story makes the sensual pleasure-loving man, when he sees that his own case is one that admits of no escape, evince forethought for his relations on earth; and when Abraham tells him that the life of those still in the flesh is not unprovided with a guidance, for they may find it at hand, if they will, in the Law and the Prophets, he still continues entreating that Just Patriarch, and asks that a sudden and convincing message, brought by some one risen from the dead, may be sent to them.

What then, I asked, is the teaching here?

What then, I asked, is the doctrine here?

Why is it that Lazarus' soul is occupied with his present blessings and doesn't turn to look at anything he has left behind, while the rich man is still attached, as if by cement, even after death, to the life of feeling? He doesn't strip himself of it even when he has stopped living, still keeping flesh and blood in his thoughts. In his plea that his relatives be spared from his sufferings, he clearly shows he is not yet freed from fleshly feeling. In such details of the story, she continued, I think our Lord teaches us this: those still living in the flesh must as much as they possibly can separate and free themselves from its attachments through virtuous conduct, so that after death they won't need a second death to cleanse them from the remnants left by this cement of the flesh. Then, once the bonds around the soul are loosened, her soaring up to the Good may be swift and unhindered, with no bodily anguish to distract her. For if anyone becomes wholly and thoroughly carnal in thought, such a person, with every movement and energy of the soul absorbed in fleshly desires, is not separated from such attachments even in the disembodied state—just as those who have lingered long in foul-smelling places don't lose the unpleasantness picked up during that extended stay, even when they pass into fresh air. So it is that when the change is made into the intangible unseen realm, not even then will it be possible for lovers of the flesh to avoid dragging away with them some fleshly filth under any circumstances. And this will intensify their torment, their soul having been materialized by such surroundings. I think too that this view agrees to some extent with the claim made by some people that shadowy phantoms of the departed are often seen around their graves. If this is really true, it proves that an excessive attachment of that particular soul to life in the flesh existed, causing it to be unwilling, even when expelled from the flesh, to fly completely away and to accept the complete change of its form into the intangible. It remains near the body even after the body's dissolution, and though now outside it, hovers regretfully over the place where its material is and continues to haunt it.

Why, seeing that Lazarus' soul is occupied with his present blessings and turns round to look at nothing that he has left, while the rich man is still attached, with a cement as it were, even after death, to the life of feeling, which he does not divest himself of even when he has ceased to live, still keeping as he does flesh and blood in his thoughts (for in his entreaty that his kindred may be exempted from his sufferings he plainly shows that he is not freed yet from fleshly feeling) — in such details of the story (she continued) I think our Lord teaches us this; that those still living in the flesh must as much as ever they can separate and free themselves in a way from its attachments by virtuous conduct, in order that after death they may not need a second death to cleanse them from the remnants that are owing to this cement of the flesh, and, when once the bonds are loosed from around the soul, her soaring up to the Good may be swift and unimpeded, with no anguish of the body to distract her. For if any one becomes wholly and thoroughly carnal in thought, such an one, with every motion and energy of the soul absorbed in fleshly desires, is not parted from such attachments, even in the disembodied state; just as those who have lingered long in noisome places do not part with the unpleasantness contracted by that lengthened stay, even when they pass into a sweet atmosphere. So it is that, when the change is made into the impalpable Unseen, not even then will it be possible for the lovers of the flesh to avoid dragging away with them under any circumstances some fleshly foulness; and thereby their torment will be intensified, their soul having been materialized by such surroundings. I think too that this view of the matter harmonizes to a certain extent with the assertion made by some persons that around their graves shadowy phantoms of the departed are often seen. If this is really so, an inordinate attachment of that particular soul to the life in the flesh is proved to have existed, causing it to be unwilling, even when expelled from the flesh, to fly clean away and to admit the complete change of its form into the impalpable; it remains near the frame even after the dissolution of the frame, and though now outside it, hovers regretfully over the place where its material is and continues to haunt it.

Then, after thinking for a moment about what these last words meant, I said: I think a contradiction has now emerged between what you've said and the conclusions we reached in our earlier examination of the passions. On the one hand, we said that such movements within us—the ones we listed in our previous discussion, like anger, fear, desire for pleasure, and so on—arise from our kinship with the animals. On the other hand, we affirmed that virtue consists in using these movements well, and vice in using them badly. Beyond this, we also discussed how each of the other passions actually contributes to a virtuous life, and we found that through desire especially we are brought closer to God, lifted up from earth toward him as if by a chain. I think this part of our discussion somehow conflicts with what we're trying to establish now.

Then, after a moment's reflection on the meaning of these latter words, I said: I think that a contradiction now arises between what you have said and the result of our former examination of the passions. For if, on the one hand, the activity of such movements within us is to be held as arising from our kinship with the brutes, such movements I mean as were enumerated in our previous discussion, anger, for instance, and fear, desire of pleasure, and so on, and, on the other hand, it was affirmed that virtue consists in the good employment of these movements, and vice in their bad employment, and in addition to this we discussed the actual contribution of each of the other passions to a virtuous life, and found that through desire above all we are brought nearer God, drawn up, by its chain as it were, from earth towards Him — I think (I said) that that part of the discussion is in a way opposed to that which we are now aiming at.

How is that? she asked.

How so? She asked.

Why, once every irrational impulse is extinguished within us after our purification, this principle of desire will no longer exist any more than the other principles. And once this is removed, it seems that the striving for the better way would also cease, since no other emotion remains in the soul that can stir us up to desire the Good.

Why, when every unreasoning instinct is quenched within us after our purgation, this principle of desire will not exist any more than the other principles; and this being removed, it looks as if the striving after the better way would also cease, no other emotion remaining in the soul that can stir us up to the appetence of Good.

To that objection, she replied, we answer this. The ability to think and judge belongs to the godlike part of the soul, for it is through these faculties that we grasp the Deity as well. If our soul becomes free from any emotional connection with brute creation—whether through forethought in this life or through purgation in the next—there will be nothing to prevent its contemplation of the Beautiful, since the Beautiful is essentially capable of attracting every being that looks toward it. If the soul is purified of every vice, it will most certainly be in the sphere of Beauty. The Deity is Beautiful in its very substance, and the soul in its state of purity will have affinity with the Deity and will embrace it as like itself. When this happens, there will no longer be any need for the impulse of Desire to lead the way to the Beautiful. Whoever spends his time in darkness will be under the influence of a desire for light, but when he comes into the light, enjoyment takes the place of desire, and the power to enjoy makes desire useless and obsolete. It will therefore be no loss to our participation in the Good that the soul should be free from such emotions, turning back upon herself to know accurately what her actual nature is and to behold the Original Beauty reflected in the mirror and image of her own beauty. For truly the real assimilation to the Divine consists in making our own life in some degree a copy of the Supreme Being. A nature like that, which transcends all thought and is far removed from all that we observe within ourselves, exists in a very different manner from the way we exist in this present life. Man, possessing a constitution whose law is to be moving, is carried in the particular direction where the impulse of his will points. His soul is not affected in the same way toward what lies before it as toward what it has left behind, for hope leads the forward movement while memory follows that movement when it has advanced to the attainment of the hope. If hope leads the soul to something intrinsically good, the impression that this exercise of the will leaves upon the memory is a bright one. But if hope has seduced the soul with only some phantom of the Good, and the excellent way has been missed, then the memory that follows what has happened becomes shame, and an internal war is thus waged in the soul between memory and hope, because hope has been such a bad leader of the will. Such in fact is the state of mind that shame expresses: the soul is stung by the result, its remorse for its ill-considered attempt is a whip that makes it feel acutely, and it would bring in oblivion to aid it against its tormentor. Now in our case, nature, being lacking in the Good, is always aiming at what is still wanting to it, and this aiming at a still-missing thing is this very habit of Desire that our constitution displays equally, whether it is deprived of the real Good or wins what is good to win. But a nature that surpasses every idea we can form of the Good and transcends all other power, being in no want of anything that can be regarded as good, is itself the plenitude of every good. It does not move in the sphere of the good by way of participation only, but is itself the substance of the Good—whatever we imagine the Good to be. It neither gives scope for any rising hope (for hope shows activity in the direction of something absent, but what a man has, why does he yet hope for, as the Apostle asks), nor is it in want of the activity of memory for the knowledge of things, since that which is actually seen has no need of being remembered. Since, then, this Divine nature is beyond any particular good, and to the good the good is an object of love, it follows that when it looks within itself, it wishes for what it contains and contains what it wishes, and admits nothing external. Indeed there is nothing external to it, with the sole exception of evil, which—strange as it may seem to say—possesses an existence in not existing at all. For there is no other origin of evil except the negation of the existent, and the truly existent forms the substance of the Good. That which is not to be found in the existent must therefore be in the non-existent. When the soul, then, having divested itself of the multifarious emotions incident to its nature, gets its Divine form and, mounting above Desire, enters within that toward which it was once incited by Desire, it offers no harbor within itself either for hope or for memory. It holds the object of the one; the other is excluded from consciousness by the occupation of enjoying all that is good. Thus the soul copies the life that is above and is conformed to the distinctive features of the Divine nature. None of its habits are left to it except that of love, which clings by natural affinity to the Beautiful. For this is what love is: the inherent affection toward a chosen object. When the soul, having become simple and single in form and so perfectly godlike, finds that perfectly simple and immaterial good which is really worth enthusiasm and love, it attaches itself to it and blends with it by means of the movement and activity of love, fashioning itself according to that which it is continually finding and grasping. Becoming by this assimilation to the Good all that the nature of that in which it participates is, the soul will consequently—because there is no lack of any good in that thing itself which it participates in—itself also be in no lack of anything, and so will expel from within the activity and habit of Desire, for this arises only when the thing missed is not found. For this teaching we have the authority of God's own Apostle, who announces a subduing and ceasing of all other activities—even for the good—which are within us, and finds no limit for love alone. Prophecies, he says, shall fail; forms of knowledge shall cease; but charity never fails, which is equivalent to its being always as it is. Though he says that faith and hope have endured so far by the side of love, yet again he extends its date beyond theirs, and with good reason too, for hope is in operation only so long as the enjoyment of the things hoped for is not to be had, and faith in the same way is a support in the uncertainty about the things hoped for—for so he defines it, the substance of things hoped for. But when the thing hoped for actually comes, then all other faculties are reduced to quiescence, and love alone remains active, finding nothing to succeed itself. Love, therefore, is the foremost of all excellent achievements and the first of the commandments of the law. If ever the soul reaches this goal, it will be in no need of anything else; it will embrace that plenitude of things which are, whereby alone it seems in any way to preserve within itself the stamp of God's actual blessedness. For the life of the Supreme Being is love, seeing that the Beautiful is necessarily lovable to those who recognize it, and the Deity does recognize it, and so this recognition becomes love, that which He recognizes being essentially beautiful. This True Beauty the insolence of satiety cannot touch, and no satiety interrupting this continuous capacity to love the Beautiful, God's life will have its activity in love—which life is thus in itself beautiful and is essentially of a loving disposition toward the Beautiful and receives no check to this activity of love. In fact, in the Beautiful no limit is to be found so that love should have to cease with any limit of the Beautiful. This last can be ended only by its opposite, but when you have a good, as here, which is in its essence incapable of a change for the worse, then that good will go on unchecked into infinity. Moreover, as every being is capable of attracting its like, and humanity is, in a way, like God, as bearing within itself some resemblances to its Prototype, the soul is by a strict necessity attracted to the kindred Deity. In fact what belongs to God must by all means and at any cost be preserved for Him. If, on the one hand, the soul is unencumbered with superfluities and no trouble connected with the body presses it down, its advance toward Him who draws it to Himself is sweet and congenial. But suppose, on the other hand, that it has been transfixed with the nails of propension so as to be held down to a habit connected with material things—a case like that of those in the ruins caused by earthquakes, whose bodies are crushed by the mounds of rubbish. Let us imagine by way of illustration that these are not only pressed down by the weight of the ruins but have been pierced as well with some spikes and splinters discovered with them in the rubbish. What then would naturally be the plight of those bodies when they were being dragged by relatives from the ruins to receive the holy rites of burial, mangled and torn entirely, disfigured in the most dreadful manner conceivable, with the nails beneath the heap harrowing them by the very violence necessary to pull them out? Such I think is the plight of the soul as well when the Divine force, for God's very love of man, drags that which belongs to Him from the ruins of the irrational and material. Not in hatred or revenge for a wicked life, to my thinking, does God bring upon sinners those painful

To that objection, she replied, we answer this. The speculative and critical faculty is the property of the soul's godlike part; for it is by these that we grasp the Deity also. If, then whether by forethought here, or by purgation hereafter, our soul becomes free from any emotional connection with the brute creation, there will be nothing to impede its contemplation of the Beautiful; for this last is essentially capable of attracting in a certain way every being that looks towards it. If, then, the soul is purified of every vice, it will most certainly be in the sphere of Beauty. The Deity is in very substance Beautiful; and to the Deity the soul will in its state of purity have affinity, and will embrace It as like itself. Whenever this happens, then, there will be no longer need of the impulse of Desire to lead the way to the Beautiful. Whoever passes his time in darkness, he it is who will be under the influence of a desire for the light; but whenever he comes into the light, then enjoyment takes the place of desire, and the power to enjoy renders desire useless and out of date. It will therefore be no detriment to our participation in the Good, that the soul should be free from such emotions, and turning back upon herself should know herself accurately what her actual nature is, and should behold the Original Beauty reflected in the mirror and in the figure of her own beauty. For truly herein consists the real assimilation to the Divine; viz. in making our own life in some degree a copy of the Supreme Being. For a Nature like that, which transcends all thought and is far removed from all that we observe within ourselves, proceeds in its existence in a very different manner to what we do in this present life. Man, possessing a constitution whose law it is to be moving, is carried in that particular direction whither the impulse of his will directs: and so his soul is not affected in the same way towards what lies before it, as one may say, as to what it has left behind; for hope leads the forward movement, but it is memory that succeeds that movement when it has advanced to the attainment of the hope; and if it is to something intrinsically good that hope thus leads on the soul, the print that this exercise of the will leaves upon the memory is a bright one; but if hope has seduced the soul with some phantom only of the Good, and the excellent Way has been missed, then the memory that succeeds what has happened becomes shame, and an intestine war is thus waged in the soul between memory and hope, because the last has been such a bad leader of the will. Such in fact is the state of mind that shame gives expression to; the soul is stung as it were at the result; its remorse for its ill-considered attempt is a whip that makes it feel to the quick, and it would bring in oblivion to its aid against its tormentor. Now in our case nature, owing to its being indigent of the Good, is aiming always at this which is still wanting to it, and this aiming at a still missing thing is this very habit of Desire, which our constitution displays equally, whether it is baulked of the real Good, or wins that which it is good to win. But a nature that surpasses every idea that we can form of the Good and transcends all other power, being in no want of anything that can be regarded as good, is itself the plenitude of every good; it does not move in the sphere of the good by way of participation in it only, but it is itself the substance of the Good (whatever we imagine the Good to be); it neither gives scope for any rising hope (for hope manifests activity in the direction of something absent; but what a man has, why does he yet hope for? as the Apostle asks), nor is it in want of the activity of the memory for the knowledge of things; that which is actually seen has no need of being remembered. Since, then, this Divine nature is beyond any particular good, and to the good the good is an object of love, it follows that when It looks within Itself, It wishes for what It contains and contains that which It wishes, and admits nothing external. Indeed there is nothing external to It, with the sole exception of evil, which, strange as it may seem to say, possesses an existence in not existing at all. For there is no other origin of evil except the negation of the existent, and the truly-existent forms the substance of the Good. That therefore which is not to be found in the existent must be in the non-existent. Whenever the soul, then, having divested itself of the multifarious emotions incident to its nature, gets its Divine form and, mounting above Desire, enters within that towards which it was once incited by that Desire, it offers no harbour within itself either for hope or for memory. It holds the object of the one; the other is extruded from the consciousness by the occupation in enjoying all that is good: and thus the soul copies the life that is above, and is conformed to the peculiar features of the Divine nature; none of its habits are left to it except that of love, which clings by natural affinity to the Beautiful. For this is what love is; the inherent affection towards a chosen object. When, then, the soul, having become simple and single in form and so perfectly godlike, finds that perfectly simple and immaterial good which is really worth enthusiasm and love, it attaches itself to it and blends with it by means of the movement and activity of love, fashioning itself according to that which it is continually finding and grasping. Becoming by this assimilation to the Good all that the nature of that which it participates is, the soul will consequently, owing to there being no lack of any good in that thing itself which it participates, be itself also in no lack of anything, and so will expel from within the activity and the habit of Desire; for this arises only when the thing missed is not found. For this teaching we have the authority of God's own Apostle, who announces a subduing and a ceasing of all other activities, even for the good, which are within us, and finds no limit for love alone. Prophecies, he says, shall fail; forms of knowledge shall cease; but charity never fails; which is equivalent to its being always as it is: and though he says that faith and hope have endured so far by the side of love, yet again he prolongs its date beyond theirs, and with good reason too; for hope is in operation only so long as the enjoyment of the things hoped for is not to be had; and faith in the same way is a support in the uncertainty about the things hoped for; for so he defines it — the substance of things hoped for; but when the thing hoped for actually comes, then all other faculties are reduced to quiescence, and love alone remains active, finding nothing to succeed itself. Love, therefore, is the foremost of all excellent achievements and the first of the commandments of the law. If ever, then, the soul reach this goal, it will be in no need of anything else; it will embrace that plenitude of things which are, whereby alone it seems in any way to preserve within itself the stamp of God's actual blessedness. For the life of the Supreme Being is love, seeing that the Beautiful is necessarily lovable to those who recognize it, and the Deity does recognize it, and so this recognition becomes love, that which He recognizes being essentially beautiful. This True Beauty the insolence of satiety cannot touch; and no satiety interrupting this continuous capacity to love the Beautiful, God's life will have its activity in love; which life is thus in itself beautiful, and is essentially of a loving disposition towards the Beautiful, and receives no check to this activity of love. In fact, in the Beautiful no limit is to be found so that love should have to cease with any limit of the Beautiful. This last can be ended only by its opposite; but when you have a good, as here, which is in its essence incapable of a change for the worse, then that good will go on unchecked into infinity. Moreover, as every being is capable of attracting its like, and humanity is, in a way, like God, as bearing within itself some resemblances to its Prototype, the soul is by a strict necessity attracted to the kindred Deity. In fact what belongs to God must by all means and at any cost be preserved for Him. If, then, on the one hand, the soul is unencumbered with superfluities and no trouble connected with the body presses it down, its advance towards Him Who draws it to Himself is sweet and congenial. But suppose, on the other hand, that it has been transfixed with the nails of propension so as to be held down to a habit connected with material things — a case like that of those in the ruins caused by earthquakes, whose bodies are crushed by the mounds of rubbish; and let us imagine by way of illustration that these are not only pressed down by the weight of the ruins, but have been pierced as well with some spikes and splinters discovered with them in the rubbish. What then, would naturally be the plight of those bodies, when they were being dragged by relatives from the ruins to receive the holy rites of burial, mangled and torn entirely, disfigured in the most direful manner conceivable, with the nails beneath the heap harrowing them by the very violence necessary to pull them out?– Such I think is the plight of the soul as well when the Divine force, for God's very love of man, drags that which belongs to Him from the ruins of the irrational and material. Not in hatred or revenge for a wicked life, to my thinking, does God bring upon sinners those painful dispensations; He is only claiming and drawing to Himself whatever, to please Him, came into existence. But while He for a noble end is attracting the soul to Himself, the Fountain of all Blessedness, it is the occasion necessarily to the being so attracted of a state of torture. Just as those who refine gold from the dross which it contains not only get this base alloy to melt in the fire, but are obliged to melt the pure gold along with the alloy, and then while this last is being consumed the gold remains, so, while evil is being consumed in the purgatorial fire, the soul that is welded to this evil must inevitably be in the fire too, until the spurious material alloy is consumed and annihilated by this fire. If a clay of the more tenacious kind is deeply plastered round a rope, and then the end of the rope is put through a narrow hole, and then some one on the further side violently pulls it by that end, the result must be that, while the rope itself obeys the force exerted, the clay that has been plastered upon it is scraped off it with this violent pulling and is left outside the hole, and, moreover, is the cause why the rope does not run easily through the passage, but has to undergo a violent tension at the hands of the puller. In such a manner, I think, we may figure to ourselves the agonized struggle of that soul which has wrapped itself up in earthy material passions, when God is drawing it, His own one, to Himself, and the foreign matter, which has somehow grown into its substance, has to be scraped from it by main force, and so occasions it that keen intolerable anguish.

Then it seems, I said, that it is not primarily or chiefly punishment that the Deity, as Judge, inflicts upon sinners. Rather, as your argument has shown, He acts only to separate the good from the evil and to draw it into communion with blessedness.

Then it seems, I said, that it is not punishment chiefly and principally that the Deity, as Judge, afflicts sinners with; but He operates, as your argument has shown, only to get the good separated from the evil and to attract it into the communion of blessedness.

That, said the Teacher, is my meaning; and also that the agony will be measured by the amount of evil there is in each individual. For it would not be reasonable to think that the person who has remained for so long in forbidden evil and the person who has fallen only into moderate sins should be tortured to the same degree in the judgment upon their sinful condition. Rather, the duration of that agonizing flame will be longer or shorter depending on the quantity of material available to burn—that is, as long as there is fuel to feed it. In the case of someone who has accumulated a heavy weight of material, the consuming fire must necessarily be very thorough. But where what the fire has to feed upon has spread less far, the penetrating severity of the punishment is reduced to the extent that the evil itself is diminished. In every case, evil must be removed out of existence, so that, as we said above, what is absolutely non-existent should cease to be at all. Since it is not in evil's nature to exist outside the will, does it not follow that when every will rests in God, evil will be reduced to complete annihilation, since no receptacle will be left for it?

That, said the Teacher, is my meaning; and also that the agony will be measured by the amount of evil there is in each individual. For it would not be reasonable to think that the man who has remained so long as we have supposed in evil known to be forbidden, and the man who has fallen only into moderate sins, should be tortured to the same amount in the judgment upon their vicious habit; but according to the quantity of material will be the longer or shorter time that that agonizing flame will be burning; that is, as long as there is fuel to feed it. In the case of the man who has acquired a heavy weight of material, the consuming fire must necessarily be very searching; but where that which the fire has to feed upon has spread less far, there the penetrating fierceness of the punishment is mitigated, so far as the subject itself, in the amount of its evil, is diminished. In any and every case evil must be removed out of existence, so that, as we said above, the absolutely non-existent should cease to be at all. Since it is not in its nature that evil should exist outside the will, does it not follow that when it shall be that every will rests in God, evil will be reduced to complete annihilation, owing to no receptacle being left for it?

But I said, what help can anyone find in this devout hope when they consider the magnitude of the evil involved in enduring torture even for a single year? And if that unbearable anguish is extended for the span of an age, what small bit of comfort remains from any future expectation for the person whose purification is measured out to match an entire age?

But, said I, what help can one find in this devout hope, when one considers the greatness of the evil in undergoing torture even for a single year; and if that intolerable anguish be prolonged for the interval of an age, what grain of comfort is left from any subsequent expectation to him whose purgation is thus commensurate with an entire age?

Why, either we must plan to keep the soul absolutely untouched and free from any stain of evil, or, if our passionate nature makes that quite impossible, then we must plan that our failures in excellence consist only of mild and easily-curable derelictions. For the Gospel in its teaching distinguishes between a debtor of ten thousand talents and a debtor of five hundred pence, and of fifty pence and of a farthing, which is the smallest of coins. It proclaims that God's just judgment reaches to all, and increases the payment necessary as the weight of the debt increases, and on the other hand does not overlook the very smallest debts. But the Gospel tells us that this payment of debts was not accomplished by the repayment of money, but that the indebted man was delivered to the tormentors until he should pay the whole debt. And that means nothing else than paying in the coin of torment the inevitable recompense—the recompense, I mean, that consists in taking the share of pain incurred during his lifetime, when he recklessly chose mere pleasure, undiluted with its opposite. In this way, having put off from himself all that foreign growth which sin is, and having discarded the shame of any debts, he might stand in liberty and fearlessness. Now liberty is the coming up to a state which owns no master and is self-regulating. It is that with which we were gifted by God at the beginning, but which has been obscured by the feeling of shame arising from indebtedness. Liberty too is in all cases one and the same essentially; it has a natural attraction to itself. It follows, then, that since everything that is free will be united with its like, and since virtue is a thing that has no master—that is, is free—everything that is free will be united with virtue. But, further, the Divine Being is the fountain of all virtue. Therefore, those who have parted with evil will be united with Him. And so, as the Apostle says, God will be all in all. For this utterance seems to me plainly to confirm the opinion we have already arrived at, for it means that God will be instead of all other things, and in all. For while our present life is active among a variety of multiform conditions, and the things we have relations with are numerous—for instance, time, air, locality, food and drink, clothing, sunlight, lamplight, and other necessities of life, none of which, many though they be, are God—that blessed state which we hope for is in need of none of these things. Rather, the Divine Being will become all, and instead of all, to us, distributing Himself proportionately to every need of that existence. It is plain, too, from the Holy Scripture that God becomes, to those who deserve it, locality, and home, and clothing, and food, and drink, and light, and riches, and dominion, and everything thinkable and nameable that goes to make our life happy. But He who becomes all things will be in all things too. And herein it appears to me that Scripture teaches the complete annihilation of evil. If, that is, God will be in all existing things, then evil, plainly, will not then be among them. For if anyone were to assume that it did exist then, how will the belief that God will be in all be kept intact? The excepting of that one thing, evil, mars the comprehensiveness of the term all. But He who will be in all will never be in that which does not exist.

Why, either we must plan to keep the soul absolutely untouched and free from any stain of evil; or, if our passionate nature makes that quite impossible, then we must plan that our failures in excellence consist only in mild and easily-curable derelictions. For the Gospel in its teaching distinguishes between a debtor of ten thousand talents and a debtor of five hundred pence, and of fifty pence and of a farthing, which is the uttermost of coins; it proclaims that God's just judgment reaches to all, and enhances the payment necessary as the weight of the debt increases, and on the other hand does not overlook the very smallest debts. But the Gospel tells us that this payment of debts was not effected by the refunding of money, but that the indebted man was delivered to the tormentors until he should pay the whole debt; and that means nothing else than paying in the coin of torment the inevitable recompense, the recompense, I mean, that consists in taking the share of pain incurred during his lifetime, when he inconsiderately chose mere pleasure, undiluted with its opposite; so that having put off from him all that foreign growth which sin is, and discarded the shame of any debts, he might stand in liberty and fearlessness. Now liberty is the coming up to a state which owns no master and is self-regulating; it is that with which we were gifted by God at the beginning, but which has been obscured by the feeling of shame arising from indebtedness. Liberty too is in all cases one and the same essentially; it has a natural attraction to itself. It follows, then, that as everything that is free will be united with its like, and as virtue is a thing that has no master, that is, is free, everything that is free will be united with virtue. But, further, the Divine Being is the fountain of all virtue. Therefore, those who have parted with evil will be united with Him; and so, as the Apostle says, God will be all in all; for this utterance seems to me plainly to confirm the opinion we have already arrived at, for it means that God will be instead of all other things, and in all. For while our present life is active among a variety of multiform conditions, and the things we have relations with are numerous, for instance, time, air, locality, food and drink, clothing, sunlight, lamplight, and other necessities of life, none of which, many though they be, are God — that blessed state which we hope for is in need of none of these things, but the Divine Being will become all, and instead of all, to us, distributing Himself proportionately to every need of that existence. It is plain, too, from the Holy Scripture that God becomes, to those who deserve it, locality, and home, and clothing, and food, and drink, and light, and riches, and dominion, and everything thinkable and nameable that goes to make our life happy. But He that becomes all things will be in all things too; and herein it appears to me that Scripture teaches the complete annihilation of evil. If, that is, God will be in all existing things, evil; plainly, will not then be among them; for if any one was to assume that it did exist then, how will the belief that God will be in all be kept intact? The excepting of that one thing, evil, mars the comprehensiveness of the term all. But He that will be in all will never be in that which does not exist.

What then, I asked, are we to say to those whose hearts fail when faced with these calamities?

What then, I asked, are we to say to those whose hearts fail at these calamities?

The Teacher replied, "We will say this to them. Dear friends, it is foolish for you to worry and complain about the fixed sequence of events in life. You do not know the goal toward which each divine plan for the universe is moving. You do not know that all things must be conformed to the Divine Nature according to their author's design, in a certain order and pattern. Indeed, this is why intelligent beings came into existence—so that the riches of the Divine blessings would not remain unused. The All-creating Wisdom fashioned these souls, these receptacles with free wills, like vessels for this very purpose: that there would be capacities able to receive His blessings and grow continually larger as the stream pours in. This is how remarkable participation in the Divine blessings is: it makes the one who receives them larger and more capacious. From his capacity to receive, the receiver actually gains an increase in size as well, and he never stops growing. The fountain of blessings flows unceasingly, and the partaker's nature, finding nothing superfluous or useless in what it receives, turns the entire influx into an enlargement of its own dimensions. The soul becomes both more eager to absorb this noble nourishment and more capable of containing it. Each grows along with the other—both the capacity that is nurtured in such abundance of blessings and so grows greater, and the nurturing supply that flows in proportion to the growth of those increasing powers. Therefore, this growth will likely reach such a magnitude that there is no limit to check it, so that we will never stop growing into it. With such a prospect before us, are you angry that our nature is advancing to its goal along the path appointed for us? Our journey there cannot be completed unless what weighs us down—this burdensome load of earthiness—is shaken off the soul. Nor can we dwell in Purity with the corresponding part of our nature unless we have cleansed ourselves through better training from the attachment to earthiness that we have developed in life. But if you still cling to this body, and being separated from this beloved thing causes you pain, do not let even this make you despair. You will see this bodily covering, which is now dissolved in death, woven again from the same elements—not into this structure with its gross and heavy texture, but with its threads worked into something more subtle and ethereal, so that you will not only have near you what you love, but it will be restored to you with a brighter and more beautiful appearance."

We will say to them, replied the Teacher, this. It is foolish, good people, for you to fret and complain of the chain of this fixed sequence of life's realities; you do not know the goal towards which each single dispensation of the universe is moving. You do not know that all things have to be assimilated to the Divine Nature in accordance with the artistic plan of their author, in a certain regularity and order. Indeed, it was for this that intelligent beings came into existence; namely, that the riches of the Divine blessings should not lie idle. The All-creating Wisdom fashioned these souls, these receptacles with free wills, as vessels as it were, for this very purpose, that there should be some capacities able to receive His blessings and become continually larger with the inpouring of the stream. Such are the wonders that the participation in the Divine blessings works: it makes him into whom they come larger and more capacious; from his capacity to receive it gets for the receiver an actual increase in bulk as well, and he never stops enlarging. The fountain of blessings wells up unceasingly, and the partaker's nature, finding nothing superfluous and without a use in that which it receives, makes the whole influx an enlargement of its own proportions, and becomes at once more wishful to imbibe the nobler nourishment and more capable of containing it; each grows along with each, both the capacity which is nursed in such abundance of blessings and so grows greater, and the nurturing supply which comes on in a flood answering to the growth of those increasing powers. It is likely, therefore, that this bulk will mount to such a magnitude as there is no limit to check, so that we should not grow into it. With such a prospect before us, are you angry that our nature is advancing to its goal along the path appointed for us? Why, our career cannot be run there-ward, except that which weighs us down, I mean this encumbering load of earthiness, be shaken off the soul; nor can we be domiciled in Purity with the corresponding part of our nature, unless we have cleansed ourselves by a better training from the habit of affection which we have contracted in life towards this earthiness. But if there be in you any clinging to this body, and the being unlocked from this darling thing give you pain, let not this, either, make you despair. You will behold this bodily envelopment, which is now dissolved in death, woven again out of the same atoms, not indeed into this organization with its gross and heavy texture, but with its threads worked up into something more subtle and ethereal, so that you will not only have near you that which you love, but it will be restored to you with a brighter and more entrancing beauty.

But it seems to me now, I said, that the doctrine of the Resurrection necessarily comes up for our discussion. I think this doctrine is true and credible even at first sight, as Scripture tells us, so that won't be disputed between us. However, since the weakness of human understanding is strengthened further by arguments we can grasp, it would be good not to leave this part of the subject without philosophical examination either. Let us consider, then, what ought to be said about it.

But it somehow seems to me now, I said, that the doctrine of the Resurrection necessarily comes on for our discussion; a doctrine which I think is even at first sight true as well as credible, as it is told us in Scripture; so that that will not come in question between us: but since the weakness of the human understanding is strengthened still farther by any arguments that are intelligible to us, it would be well not to leave this part of the subject, either, without philosophical examination. Let us consider, then, what ought to be said about it.

As for the thinkers outside our own system of thought, the Teacher continued, they have approached and touched upon the doctrine of the Resurrection in various ways, though none of them coincide exactly with us. They haven't completely abandoned such an expectation. Some degrade human nature by maintaining that a soul alternates between human and irrational forms, transmigrating into various bodies and changing at will from human into bird, fish, or beast, then returning to human form. Some extend this absurdity even to trees and shrubs, considering plant life as corresponding and related to humanity. Others hold only that the soul exchanges one human body for another, so that human life continues perpetually by means of the same souls, which remain the same in number and are born repeatedly in one generation after another.

As for ourselves, we take our stand on the teachings of the Church and assert that we should accept only enough of these speculations to show that those who hold them are to some extent in agreement with the doctrine of the Resurrection. Their statement, for instance, that the soul after its release from this body enters into certain other bodies is not completely out of harmony with the revival we hope for. For our view, which maintains that the body both now and in the future is composed of the atoms of the universe, is held equally by these pagans. In fact, you cannot imagine any constitution of the body independent of these atoms coming together. But the difference lies here: we assert that the same body as before, composed of the same atoms, is compacted around the soul again; they suppose that the soul enters other bodies, not only rational but also irrational and even insensate. While all agree that these bodies the soul resumes derive their substance from the atoms of the universe, they part company from us in thinking that they are not made from exactly the same atoms that in this mortal life grew around the soul. Let this external testimony stand for the fact that it is not contrary to probability that the soul should again inhabit a body. After that, however, we must examine the inconsistencies of their position, and it will be easy, by following out the consistent view, to bring the truth to light.

What, then, should be said about these theories? Those who claim that the soul migrates into natures different from each other seem to me to eliminate all natural distinctions and to blend and confuse together, in every possible respect, the rational, the irrational, the sentient, and the insensate—if all these can pass into each other with no distinct natural order preventing mutual transition. To say that one and the same soul, because of a particular bodily environment, is at one time a rational and intellectual soul, then is enclosed with reptiles, or herds with birds, or becomes a beast of burden or a carnivorous animal, or swims in the deep, or even drops down to an insensate thing so as to strike roots or become a complete tree producing buds on branches, and from those buds a flower or thorn or edible or poisonous fruit—to say this is nothing short of making all things the same and believing that one single nature runs through all beings, that there is a connection between them which hopelessly blends and confuses all the marks by which one could be distinguished from another. The philosopher who asserts that the same thing may be born in anything intends nothing less than that all things are one, when the observed differences in things present no obstacle to mixing together things that are utterly incompatible. He makes it necessary that even when one sees one of the venomous or carnivorous creatures, one should regard it, despite appearances, as of the same tribe, even the same family, as oneself. With such beliefs a person will look even upon hemlock as not alien to his own nature, detecting humanity in the plant. The grape cluster itself, though produced by cultivation to sustain life, he will not regard without suspicion, for it too comes from a plant. We find that even the grain we live on grows from plants. How, then, can one put in the sickle to cut them down? How can one squeeze the grape cluster, or pull up the thistle from the field, or gather flowers, or hunt birds, or light the logs of the funeral pyre, when it remains uncertain whether we are not laying violent hands on kinsmen, ancestors, or fellow countrymen, and whether it is not through some body of theirs that the fire is being kindled, the cup mixed, and the food prepared? To think that in any single one of these things a human soul has become a plant or animal, while no marks indicate what sort of plant or animal was once human and what sort sprang from other beginnings—such a conception will lead whoever holds it to feel equal interest in everything. He must either harden himself against actual human beings who are living, or if his nature inclines him to love his kin, he will feel the same toward every kind of life, whether in reptiles or wild beasts. Why, if the holder of such an opinion enters a thicket of trees, he will regard the trees as a crowd of people. What sort of life will his be, when he must be tender toward everything on grounds of kinship, or else hardened toward humanity because he sees no difference between them and other creatures?

From what has already been said, we must reject this theory, and there are many other considerations that on grounds of mere consistency lead us away from it. For I have heard persons who hold these opinions saying that whole nations of souls are hidden away somewhere in a realm of their own, living a life similar to that of the embodied soul, but their substance is so fine and buoyant that they themselves revolve along with the revolution of the universe. These souls, having individually lost their wings through some gravitation toward evil, become embodied—first this happens in humans; after that, passing from human life due to brutish affinities of their passions, they are reduced to the level of brutes; leaving that, they drop down to this insensate life of pure nature you have been hearing about, so that the inherently fine and buoyant thing the soul is first becomes weighted and downward-tending because of some vice, and so migrates to a human body; then its reasoning powers are extinguished and it goes on living in some brute; then even this gift of sensation is withdrawn and it changes into insensate plant life; but after that it mounts up again by the same gradations until it is restored to its place in heaven.

Now this doctrine will be found, even after a very cursory survey, to have no internal coherency. First, since the soul is to be dragged down from its life in heaven, on account of evil there, to the condition of a tree, and is then from this point, on account of virtue exhibited there, to return to heaven, their theory will be unable to decide which should have preference—the life in heaven or the life in the tree. A circle of the same sequences will be perpetually traversed, where the soul, at whatever point it may be, has no resting place. If it lapses from the disembodied state to the embodied, thence to the insensate, and then springs back to the disembodied, an inextricable confusion of good and evil must result in the minds of those who teach this. For the life in heaven will no more preserve its blessedness (since evil can touch heaven's inhabitants) than the life in trees will be devoid of virtue (since it is from this, they say, that the soul's rebound toward the good begins, while from there it begins the evil life again). Second, since the soul as it moves around in heaven is there entangled with evil and consequently dragged down to live in mere matter, from which, however, it is lifted again into its residence on high, it follows that those philosophers establish the very contrary of their own views. They establish, namely, that life in matter is the purification of evil, while that undeviating revolution along with the stars is the foundation and cause of evil in every soul—if it is here that the soul through virtue grows its wing and soars upward, and there that those wings through evil fall off so that it descends and clings to this lower world and is mixed with the grossness of material nature.

But the untenableness of this view does not stop even here, in containing assertions directly opposed to each other. Beyond this, their fundamental conception itself cannot stand secure on every side. They say, for instance, that a heavenly nature is unchangeable. How then can there be room for any weakness in the unchangeable? If, again, a lower nature is subject to infirmity, how in the midst of this infirmity can freedom from it be achieved? They attempt to combine two things that can never be joined: they see strength in weakness, passionlessness in passion. But even to this last view they are not faithful throughout, for they bring the soul home from its material life to that very place from which they had exiled it because of evil there, as though life in that place was quite safe and uncontaminated—apparently quite forgetting that the soul was weighted with evil there before it plunged down into this lower world. The blame thrown on life here below and the praise of things in heaven are thus interchanged and reversed, for what was once blamed conducts, in their opinion, to the brighter life, while what was taken for the better state gives an impulse to the soul's tendency toward evil.

Expel

As for the thinkers, the Teacher went on, outside our own system of thought, they have, with all their diverse ways of looking at things, one in one point, another in another, approached and touched the doctrine of the Resurrection: while they none of them exactly coincide with us, they have in no case wholly abandoned such an expectation. Some indeed make human nature vile in their comprehensiveness, maintaining that a soul becomes alternately that of a man and of something irrational; that it transmigrates into various bodies, changing at pleasure from the man into fowl, fish, or beast, and then returning to human kind. While some extend this absurdity even to trees and shrubs, so that they consider their wooden life as corresponding and akin to humanity, others of them hold only thus much — that the soul exchanges one man for another man, so that the life of humanity is continued always by means of the same souls, which, being exactly the same in number, are being born perpetually first in one generation, then in another. As for ourselves, we take our stand upon the tenets of the Church, and assert that it will be well to accept only so much of these speculations as is sufficient to show that those who indulge in them are to a certain extent in accord with the doctrine of the Resurrection. Their statement, for instance, that the soul after its release from this body insinuates itself into certain other bodies is not absolutely out of harmony with the revival which we hope for. For our view, which maintains that the body, both now, and again in the future, is composed of the atoms of the universe, is held equally by these heathens. In fact, you cannot imagine any constitution of the body independent of a concourse of these atoms. But the divergence lies in this: we assert that the same body again as before, composed of the same atoms, is compacted around the soul; they suppose that the soul alights on other bodies, not only rational, but irrational and even insensate; and while all are agreed that these bodies which the soul resumes derive their substance from the atoms of the universe, they part company from us in thinking that they are not made out of identically the same atoms as those which in this mortal life grew around the soul. Let then, this external testimony stand for the fact that it is not contrary to probability that the soul should again inhabit a body; after that however, it is incumbent upon us to make a survey of the inconsistencies of their position, and it will be easy thus, by means of the consequences that arise as we follow out the consistent view, to bring the truth to light. What, then, is to be said about these theories? This that those who would have it that the soul migrates into natures divergent from each other seem to me to obliterate all natural distinctions; to blend and confuse together, in every possible respect, the rational, the irrational, the sentient, and the insensate; if, that is, all these are to pass into each other, with no distinct natural order secluding them from mutual transition. To say that one and the same soul, on account of a particular environment of body, is at one time a rational and intellectual soul, and that then it is caverned along with the reptiles, or herds with the birds, or is a beast of burden, or a carnivorous one, or swims in the deep; or even drops down to an insensate thing, so as to strike out roots or become a complete tree, producing buds on branches, and from those buds a flower, or a thorn, or a fruit edible or noxious — to say this, is nothing short of making all things the same and believing that one single nature runs through all beings; that there is a connection between them which blends and confuses hopelessly all the marks by which one could be distinguished from another. The philosopher who asserts that the same thing may be born in anything intends no less than that all things are to be one; when the observed differences in things are for him no obstacle to mixing together things which are utterly incongruous. He makes it necessary that, even when one sees one of the creatures that are venom-darting or carnivorous, one should regard it, in spite of appearances, as of the same tribe, nay even of the same family, as oneself. With such beliefs a man will look even upon hemlock as not alien to his own nature, detecting, as he does, humanity in the plant. The grape-bunch itself, produced though it be by cultivation for the purpose of sustaining life, he will not regard without suspicion; for it too comes from a plant: and we find even the fruit of the ears of grain upon which we live are plants; how, then, can one put in the sickle to cut them down; and how can one squeeze the bunch, or pull up the thistle from the field, or gather flowers, or hunt birds, or set fire to the logs of the funeral pyre: it being all the while uncertain whether we are not laying violent hands on kinsmen, or ancestors, or fellow-country-men, and whether it is not through the medium of some body of theirs that the fire is being kindled, and the cup mixed, and the food prepared? To think that in the case of any single one of these things a soul of a man has become a plant or animal, while no marks are stamped upon them to indicate what sort of plant or animal it is that has been a man, and what sort has sprung from other beginnings — such a conception as this will dispose him who has entertained it to feel an equal amount of interest in everything: he must perforce either harden himself against actual human beings who are in the land of the living, or, if his nature inclines him to love his kindred, he will feel alike towards every kind of life, whether he meet it in reptiles or in wild beasts. Why, if the holder of such an opinion go into a thicket of trees, even then he will regard the trees as a crowd of men. What sort of life will his be, when he has to be tender towards everything on the ground of kinship, or else hardened towards mankind on account of his seeing no difference between them and the other creatures? From what has been already said, then, we must reject this theory: and there are many other considerations as well which on the grounds of mere consistency lead us away from it. For I have heard persons who hold these opinions saying that whole nations of souls are hidden away somewhere in a realm of their own, living a life analogous to that of the embodied soul; but such is the fineness and buoyancy of their substance that they themselves' roll round along with the revolution of the universe; and that these souls, having individually lost their wings through some gravitation towards evil, become embodied; first this takes place in men; and after that, passing from a human life, owing to brutish affinities of their passions, they are reduced to the level of brutes; and, leaving that, drop down to this insensate life of pure nature which you have been hearing so much of; so that that inherently fine and buoyant thing that the soul is first becomes weighted and downward tending in consequence of some vice, and so migrates to a human body; then its reasoning powers are extinguished, and it goes on living in some brute; and then even this gift of sensation is withdrawn, and it changes into the insensate plant life; but after that mounts up again by the same gradations until it is restored to its place in heaven. Now this doctrine will at once be found, even after a very cursory survey, to have no coherency with itself. For, first, seeing that the soul is to be dragged down from its life in heaven, on account of evil there, to the condition of a tree, and is then from this point, on account of virtue exhibited there, to return to heaven, their theory will be unable to decide which is to have the preference, the life in heaven, or the life in the tree. A circle, in fact, of the same sequences will be perpetually traversed, where the soul, at whatever point it may be, has no resting-place. If it thus lapses from the disembodied state to the embodied, and thence to the insensate, and then springs back to the disembodied, an inextricable confusion of good and evil must result in the minds of those who thus teach. For the life in heaven will no more preserve its blessedness (since evil can touch heaven's denizens), than the life in trees will be devoid of virtue (since it is from this, they say, that the rebound of the soul towards the good begins, while from there it begins the evil life again). Secondly, seeing that the soul as it moves round in heaven is there entangled with evil and is in consequence dragged down to live in mere matter, from whence, however, it is lifted again into its residence on high, it follows that those philosophers establish the very contrary of their own views; they establish, namely, that the life in matter is the purgation of evil, while that undeviating revolution along with the stars is the foundation and cause of evil in every soul: if it is here that the soul by means of virtue grows its wing and then soars upwards, and there that those wings by reason of evil fall off, so that it descends and clings to this lower world and is commingled with the grossness of material nature. But the untenableness of this view does not stop even in this, namely, that it contains assertions diametrically opposed to each other. Beyond this, their fundamental conception itself cannot stand secure on every side. They say, for instance, that a heavenly nature is unchangeable. How then, can there be room for any weakness in the unchangeable? If, again, a lower nature is subject to infirmity, how in the midst of this infirmity can freedom from it be achieved? They attempt to amalgamate two things that can never be joined together: they descry strength in weakness, passionlessness in passion. But even to this last view they are not faithful throughout; for they bring home the soul from its material life to that very place whence they had exiled it because of evil there, as though the life in that place was quite safe and uncontaminated; apparently quite forgetting the fact that the soul was weighted with evil there, before it plunged down into this lower world. The blame thrown on the life here below, and the praise of the things in heaven, are thus interchanged and reversed; for that which was once blamed conducts in their opinion to the brighter life, while that which was taken for the better state gives an impulse to the soul's propensity to evil. Expel, therefore, from among the doctrines of the Faith all erroneous and shifting suppositions about such matters! We must not follow, either, as though they had bit the truth those who suppose that souls pass from women's bodies to live in men, or, reversely, that souls that have parted with men's bodies exist in women: or even if they only say that they pass from men into men, or from women into women. As for the former theory, not only has it been rejected for being shifting and illusory, and for landing us in opinions diametrically opposed to each other; but it must be rejected also because it is a godless theory, maintaining as it does that nothing among the things in nature is brought into existence without deriving its peculiar constitution from evil as its source. If, that is, neither men nor plants nor cattle can be born unless some soul from above has fallen into them, and if this fall is owing to some tendency to evil, then they evidently think that evil controls the creation of all beings. In some mysterious way, too, both events are to occur at once; the birth of the man in consequence of a marriage, and the fall of the soul (synchronizing as it must with the proceedings at that marriage). A greater absurdity even than this is involved: if, as is the fact, the large majority of the brute creation copulate in the spring, are we, then, to say that the spring brings it about that evil is engendered in the revolving world above, so that, at one and the same moment, there certain souls are impregnated with evil and so fall, and here certain brutes conceive? And what are we to say about the husbandman who sets the vine-shoots in the soil? How does his hand manage to have covered in a human soul along with the plant, and how does the moulting of wings last simultaneously with his employment in planting? The same absurdity, it is to be observed, exists in the other of the two theories as well; in the direction, I mean, of thinking that the soul must be anxious about the intercourses of those living in wedlock, and must be on the look-out for the times of bringing forth, in order that it may insinuate itself into the bodies then produced. Supposing the man refuses the union, or the woman keeps herself clear of the necessity of becoming a mother, will evil then fail to weigh down that particular soul? Will it be marriage, in consequence, that sounds up above the first note of evil in the soul, or will this reversed state invade the soul quite independently of any marriage? But then, in this last case, the soul will have to wander about in the interval like a houseless vagabond, lapsed as it has from its heavenly surroundings, and yet, as it may happen in some cases, still without a body to receive it. But how, after that, can they imagine that the Deity exercises any superintendence over the world, referring as they do the beginnings of human lives to this casual and meaningless descent of a soul. For all that follows must necessarily accord with the beginning; and so, if a life begins in consequence of a chance accident, the whole course of it becomes at once a chapter of accidents, and the attempt to make the whole world depend on a Divine power is absurd, when it is made by these men, who deny to the individualities in it a birth from the fiat of the Divine Will and refer the several origins of beings to encounters that come of evil, as though there could never have existed such a thing as a human life, unless a vice had struck, as it were, its leading note. If the beginning is like that, a sequel will most certainly be set in motion in accordance with that beginning. None would dare to maintain that what is fair can come out of what is foul, any more than from good can come its opposite. We expect fruit in accordance with the nature of the seed. Therefore this blind movement of chance is to rule the whole of life, and no Providence is any more to pervade the world.

Even our attempts to predict the future through calculations will be completely useless. Virtue will lose its value, and turning away from evil will not be worthwhile. Everything will be entirely under the control of the driver, Chance, and our lives will be no different from ships without ballast, drifting on waves of random circumstances, now toward one incident of good or evil, now toward another. The treasures of virtue will never be found in those who owe their constitution to causes completely contrary to virtue. If God truly watches over our life, then obviously evil cannot be its beginning. But if we do owe our birth to evil, then we must continue living in complete conformity with it. This will prove that it is foolish to talk about the houses of correction that await us after this life ends, and the just rewards, and all the other things asserted and believed in that tend to suppress vice. For how can a person who owes his birth to evil be outside its influence? How can someone whose very physis has its origin in a vice, as they claim, possess any deliberate impulse toward a life of virtue? Take any single one of the animals: it does not try to speak like a human being, but in using the natural kind of voice it absorbed with its mother's milk, it considers it no loss to be deprived of articulate speech. In the same way, those who believe that a vice was the origin and cause of their being alive will never bring themselves to long for virtue, because it will be completely foreign to their nature. But in fact, those who have cleansed the vision of their soul through reflection all desire and strive after a life of virtue. Therefore it is clearly proved by this fact that vice does not come before the beginning of life, and that our nature did not originate from it, but that the all-disposing wisdom of God was the Cause of it. In short, the soul enters the stage of life in the manner that pleases its Creator, and then (but not before), by virtue of its power of willing, is free to choose what is to its mind, and so, whatever it wishes to be, becomes that very thing. We may understand this truth by the example of the eyes. To see is their natural state, but failing to see results from either choice or disease. This unnatural state may occur instead of the natural one, either by deliberately shutting the eyes or by losing their sight through disease. With the same truth we may say that the soul derives its constitution from God, and since we cannot conceive of any vice in Him, it is removed from any necessity of being vicious. Nevertheless, though this is the condition in which it came into being, it can be drawn by its own free will in a chosen direction, either deliberately shutting its eyes to the Good, or letting them be damaged by that insidious enemy we have taken into our home to live with us, and so passing through life in the darkness of error. Or conversely, it can preserve undimmed its sight of the Truth and keep far away from all weaknesses that could darken it.

But then someone will ask: When and how did it come into being? Now as for the question of how any single thing came into existence, we must eliminate it entirely from our discussion. Even in the case of things that are fully within the grasp of our understanding and of which we have sensible perception, it would be impossible for speculative reason to grasp how the phenomenon is produced. So much so that even inspired and saintly men have considered such questions insoluble. For instance, the Apostle says, "Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen are not made of things which do appear" (Hebrews 11:3). He would not, I believe, have spoken like that if he had thought the question could be settled by any efforts of the reasoning powers. While the Apostle affirms that it is an object of his faith that it was by the will of God that the world itself and all that is in it was framed (whatever this world is that involves the idea of the whole visible and invisible creation), he has on the other hand left the how of this framing out of the investigation. Nor do I think that this point can ever be reached by any inquirers. The question presents, on its face, many insuperable difficulties. How, for instance, can a world of movement come from one that is at rest? How can that which shows dimension and compositeness come from the simple and dimensionless? Did it come directly out of the Supreme Being? But the fact that this world differs in kind from that Being works against such a supposition. Did it then come from some other source? Yet Faith cannot contemplate anything as entirely outside the Divine Nature, for we would have to believe in two distinct and separate Principles if, outside the Creative Cause, we are to suppose something else that the Artificer, with all His skill, has to draw upon for the formative processes of the Universe. Since, then, the Cause of all things is one and only one, and yet the existences produced by that Cause are not of the same nature as its transcendent quality, an inconceivability of equal magnitude arises in both our suppositions: both that the creation comes directly out of the Divine Being, and that the universe owes its existence to some cause other than Him. For if created things are to be of the same nature as God, we must consider Him to be invested with the properties belonging to His creation. Or else a world of matter, outside the circle of God's substance and equal to the eternity of the Self-existent One on the grounds of having no beginning, will have to be set against Him. This is in fact what the followers of Manes, and some of the Greek philosophers who held opinions equally bold, did imagine, and they raised this imagination into a system. In order, then, to avoid falling into either of these absurdities that the inquiry into the origin of things involves, let us, following the example of the Apostle, leave the question of how in each created thing without addressing it at all, merely observing in passing that the movement of God's Will becomes a fact at any moment He pleases, and the intention is immediately realized in Nature. For Omnipotence does not leave the plans of its far-seeing skill in the state of unsubstantial wishes, and the actualizing of a wish is Substance. In short, the whole world of existing things falls into two divisions: that of the intelligible and that of the corporeal. The intelligible creation does not, to begin with, seem to be in any way at variance with a spiritual Being, but on the contrary closely approaches Him, exhibiting as it does that absence of tangible form and of dimension that we rightly attribute to His transcendent nature. The corporeal creation, on the other hand, must certainly be classed among things that have nothing in common with the Deity, and it does offer this supreme difficulty to the Reason: namely, that the Reason cannot see how the visible comes out of the invisible, how the hard solid comes out of the intangible, how the finite comes out of the infinite, how that which is circumscribed by certain proportions, where the idea of quantity enters, can come from that which has no size, no proportions, and so on through each single aspect of body. But even about this we can say this much: not one of those things we attribute to body is itself body; neither figure, nor color, nor weight, nor extension, nor quantity, nor any other qualifying notion whatever. Rather, every one of them is a category; it is the combination of them all into a single whole that constitutes body. Seeing, then, that these several qualities that complete the particular body are grasped by thought alone and not by sense, and that the Deity is a thinking being, what trouble can it be to such a thinking agent to produce the thinkable things whose mutual combination generates for us the substance of that body? All this discussion, however, lies outside our present business.

The previous question was: If some souls exist before their bodies, when and how do they come into existence? And of this question, the part about the how has been left out of our examination and has not been addressed, as it presents impenetrable difficulties. There remains the question of when the soul's commencement of existence occurs; it follows immediately on what we have already discussed. For if we were to grant that the soul has lived before its body in some place of resort peculiar to itself, then we cannot avoid seeing some force in all that fantastic teaching lately discussed, which would explain the soul's habitation of the body as a consequence of some vice. On the other hand, no one who can reflect will imagine an after-birth of the soul—that is, that it is younger than the formation of the body—for everyone can see for himself that not one among all the things that are inanimate or soulless possesses any power of motion or of growth, whereas there is no question that what is conceived in the womb both grows and moves from place to place. It remains therefore that we must think that the point of commencement of existence is one and the same for body and soul. We also affirm that, just as the earth receives the sapling from the hands of the farmer and makes a tree of it, without itself imparting the power of growth to its nursling but only lending it, when placed within itself, the impulse to grow, in this very same way that which is

Nay, even the forecasting by our calculations will be quite useless; virtue will lose its value; and to turn from evil will not be worth the while. Everything will be entirely under the control of the driver, Chance; and our lives will differ not at all from vessels devoid of ballast, and will drift on waves of unaccountable circumstances, now to this, now to that incident of good or of evil. The treasures of virtue will never be found in those who owe their constitution to causes quite contrary to virtue. If God really superintends our life, then, confessedly, evil cannot begin it. But if we do owe our birth to evil, then we must go on living in complete uniformity with it. Thereby it will be shown that it is folly to talk about the houses of correction which await us after this life is ended, and the just recompenses, and all the other things there asserted, and believed in too, that tend to the suppression of vice: for how can a man, owing, as he does, his birth to evil, be outside its pale? How can he, whose very nature has its rise in a vice, as they assert, possess any deliberate impulse towards a life of virtue? Take any single one of the brute creation; it does not attempt to speak like a human being, but in using the natural kind of utterance sucked in, as it were, with its mother's milk, it deems it no loss to be deprived of articulate speech. Just in the same way those who believe that a vice was the origin and the cause of their being alive will never bring themselves to have a longing after virtue, because it will be a thing quite foreign to their nature. But, as a fact, they who by reflecting have cleansed the vision of their soul do all of them desire and strive after a life of virtue. Therefore it is by that fact clearly proved that vice is not prior in time to the act of beginning to live, and that our nature did not thence derive its source, but that the all-disposing wisdom of God was the Cause of it: in short, that the soul issues on the stage of life in the manner which is pleasing to its Creator, and then (but not before), by virtue of its power of willing, is free to choose that which is to its mind, and so, whatever it may wish to be, becomes that very thing. We may understand this truth by the example of the eyes. To see is their natural state; but to fail to see results to them either from choice or from disease. This unnatural state may supervene instead of the natural, either by wilful shutting of the eyes or by deprivation of their sight through disease. With the like truth we may assert that the soul derives its constitution from God, and that, as we cannot conceive of any vice in Him, it is removed from any necessity of being vicious; that nevertheless, though this is the condition in which it came into being, it can be attracted of its own free will in a chosen direction, either wilfully shutting its eyes to the Good, or letting them be damaged by that insidious foe whom we have taken home to live with us, and so passing through life in the darkness of error; or, reversely, preserving undimmed its sight of the Truth and keeping far away from all weaknesses that could darken it.– But then some one will ask, When and how did it come into being? Now as for the question, how any single thing came into existence, we must banish it altogether from our discussion. Even in the case of things which are quite within the grasp of our understanding and of which we have sensible perception, it would be impossible for the speculative reason to grasp the how of the production of the phenomenon; so much so, that even inspired and saintly men have deemed such questions insoluble. For instance, the Apostle says, Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen are not made of things which do appear Hebrews 11:3. He would not, I take it, have spoken like that, if he had thought that the question could be settled by any efforts of the reasoning powers. While the Apostle affirms that it is an object of his faith that it was by the will of God that the world itself and all which is therein was framed (whatever this world be that involves the idea of the whole visible and invisible creation), he has on the other hand left out of the investigation the how of this framing. Nor do I think that this point can ever be reached by any inquirers. The question presents, on the face of it, many insuperable difficulties. How, for instance, can a world of movement come from one that is at rest? How from the simple and undimensional that which shows dimension and compositeness? Did it come actually out of the Supreme Being? But the fact that this world presents a difference in kind to that Being militates against such a supposition. Did it then come from some other quarter? Yet Faith can contemplate nothing as quite outside the Divine Nature; for we should have to believe in two distinct and separate Principles, if outside the Creative Cause we are to suppose something else, which the Artificer, with all His skill, has to put under contribution for the formative processes of the Universe. Since, then, the Cause of all things is one, and one only, and yet the existences produced by that Cause are not of the same nature as its transcendent quality, an inconceivability of equal magnitude arises in both our suppositions, i.e. both that the creation comes straight out of the Divine Being, and that the universe owes its existence to some cause other than Him; for if created things are to be of the same nature as God, we must consider Him to be invested with the properties belonging to His creation; or else a world of matter, outside the circle of God's substance, and equal, on the score of the absence in it of all beginning, to the eternity of the Self-existent One, will have to be ranged against Him: and this is in fact what the followers of Manes, and some of the Greek philosophers who held opinions of equal boldness with his, did imagine; and they raised this imagination into a system. In order, then, to avoid falling into either of these absurdities, which the inquiry into the origin of things involves, let us, following the example of the Apostle, leave the question of the how in each created thing, without meddling with it at all, but merely observing incidentally that the movement of God's Will becomes at any moment that He pleases a fact, and the intention becomes at once realized in Nature; for Omnipotence does not leave the plans of its far-seeing skill in the state of unsubstantial wishes: and the actualizing of a wish is Substance. In short, the whole world of existing things falls into two divisions: i.e. that of the intelligible, and that of the corporeal: and the intelligible creation does not, to begin with, seem to be in any way at variance with a spiritual Being, but on the contrary to verge closely upon Him, exhibiting as it does that absence of tangible form and of dimension which we rightly attribute to His transcendent nature. The corporeal creation, on the other hand, must certainly be classed among specialities that have nothing in common with the Deity; and it does offer this supreme difficulty to the Reason; namely, that the Reason cannot see how the visible comes out of the invisible, how the hard solid comes out of the intangible, how the finite comes out of the infinite, how that which is circumscribed by certain proportions, where the idea of quantity comes in, can come from that which has no size, no proportions, and so on through each single circumstance of body. But even about this we can say so much: i.e. that not one of those things which we attribute to body is itself body; neither figure, nor color, nor weight, nor extension, nor quantity, nor any other qualifying notion whatever; but every one of them is a category; it is the combination of them all into a single whole that constitutes body. Seeing, then, that these several qualifications which complete the particular body are grasped by thought alone, and not by sense, and that the Deity is a thinking being, what trouble can it be to such a thinking agent to produce the thinkables whose mutual combination generates for us the substance of that body? All this discussion, however, lies outside our present business. The previous question was — If some souls exist anterior to their bodies, when and how do they come into existence? And of this question, again, the part about the how, has been left out of our examination and has not been meddled with, as presenting impenetrable difficulties. There remains the question of the when of the soul's commencement of existence: it follows immediately on that which we have already discussed. For if we were to grant that the soul has lived previous to its body in some place of resort peculiar to itself, then we cannot avoid seeing some force in all that fantastic teaching lately discussed, which would explain the soul's habitation of the body as a consequence of some vice. Again, on the other hand, no one who can reflect will imagine an after-birth of the soul, i.e. that it is younger than the moulding of the body; for every one can see for himself that not one among all the things that are inanimate or soulless possesses any power of motion or of growth; whereas there is no question about that which is bred in the uterus both growing and moving from place to place. It remains therefore that we must think that the point of commencement of existence is one and the same for body and soul. Also we affirm that, just as the earth receives the sapling from the hands of the husbandman and makes a tree of it, without itself imparting the power of growth to its nursling, but only lending it, when placed within itself, the impulse to grow, in this very same way that which is secreted from a man for the planting of a man is itself to a certain extent a living being as much gifted with a soul and as capable of nourishing itself as that from which it comes. If this offshoot, in its diminutiveness, cannot contain at first all the activities and the movements of the soul, we need not be surprised; for neither in the seed of grain is there visible all at once the ear. How indeed could anything so large be crowded into so small a space? But the earth keeps on feeding it with its congenial aliment, and so the grain becomes the ear, without changing its nature while in the clod, but only developing it and bringing it to perfection under the stimulus of that nourishment. As, then, in the case of those growing seeds the advance to perfection is a graduated one, so in man's formation the forces of his soul show themselves in proportion to the size to which his body has attained. They dawn first in the fœtus, in the shape of the power of nutrition and of development: after that, they introduce into the organism that has come into the light the gift of perception: then, when this is reached, they manifest a certain measure of the reasoning faculty, like the fruit of some matured plant, not growing all of it at once, but in a continuous progress along with the shooting up of that plant. Seeing, then, that that which is secreted from one living being to lay the foundations of another living being cannot itself be dead (for a state of deadness arises from the privation of life, and it cannot be that privation should precede the having), we grasp from these considerations the fact that in the compound which results from the joining of both ( soul and body) there is a simultaneous passage of both into existence; the one does not come first, any more than the other comes after. But as to the number of souls, our reason must necessarily contemplate a stopping some day of its increase; so that Nature's stream may not flow on for ever, pouring forward in her successive births and never staying that onward movement. The reason for our race having some day to come to a standstill is as follows, in our opinion: since every intellectual reality is fixed in a plenitude of its own, it is reasonable to expect that humanity also will arrive at a goal (for in this respect also humanity is not to be parted from the intellectual world); so that we are to believe that it will not be visible for ever only in defect, as it is now: for this continual addition of after generations indicates that there is something deficient in our race.

Whenever humanity reaches its fullness, this continuous stream of reproduction will stop entirely. It will have reached its appointed limit, and a new order of things—completely different from the present succession of births and deaths—will sustain human life. If there is no birth, it necessarily follows that there will be nothing to die. Coming together must come before falling apart (and by coming together I mean entering this world through birth). Therefore, if this coming together does not happen first, no falling apart will follow. So if we judge by what is likely, the life after this is shown to us in advance as something fixed and imperishable, unchanged by any birth or decay.

Whenever, then, humanity shall have reached the plenitude that belongs to it, this on-streaming movement of production will altogether cease; it will have touched its destined bourn, and a new order of things quite distinct from the present precession of births and deaths will carry on the life of humanity. If there is no birth, it follows necessarily that there will be nothing to die. Composition must precede dissolution (and by composition I mean the coming into this world by being born); necessarily, therefore, if this synthesis does not precede, no dissolution will follow. Therefore, if we are to go upon probabilities, the life after this is shown to us beforehand as something that is fixed and imperishable, with no birth and no decay to change it.

The Teacher finished her explanation, and to the many people sitting by her bedside, the whole discussion seemed to have reached a proper conclusion. Nevertheless, fearing that if the Teacher's illness turned fatal (as actually did happen), we would have no one among us to answer the objections of unbelievers to the Resurrection, I still insisted.

The Teacher finished her exposition; and to the many persons sitting by her bedside the whole discussion seemed now to have arrived at a fitting conclusion. Nevertheless, fearing that if the Teacher's illness took a fatal turn (such as did actually happen), we should have no one among us to answer the objections of the unbelievers to the Resurrection, I still insisted.

The argument has not yet addressed the most crucial question relating to our Faith. I mean that the inspired Writings, in both the New and Old Testaments, declare most emphatically not only that when our race has completed the ordained sequence of its existence as the ages pass through their full cycle, this continuous flow from one generation to the next will stop entirely, but also that then, when the completed universe no longer allows for further increase, all the souls in their complete number will return from their invisible and dispersed condition into tangible and visible form, with the identical atoms (belonging to each soul) reassembling together in the same arrangement as before; and this reconstitution of human life is called, in these Writings that contain God's teaching, the Resurrection, with the entire movement of the atoms receiving the same name as the raising up of something that is actually lying prostrate on the ground.

The argument has not yet touched the most vital of all the questions relating to our Faith. I mean, that the inspired Writings, both in the New and in the Old Testament, declare most emphatically not only that, when our race has completed the ordered chain of its existence as the ages lapse through their complete circle, this current streaming onward as generation succeeds generation will cease altogether, but also that then, when the completed Universe no longer admits of further increase, all the souls in their entire number will come back out of their invisible and scattered condition into tangibility and light, the identical atoms (belonging to each soul) reassembling together in the same order as before; and this reconstitution of human life is called, in these Writings which contain God's teaching, the Resurrection, the entire movement of the atoms receiving the same term as the raising up of that which is actually prostrate on the ground.

But, she said, which of these points has been left unnoticed in what has been said?

But, said she, which of these points has been left unnoticed in what has been said?

I replied, "The actual doctrine of the Resurrection."

Why, the actual doctrine of the Resurrection, I replied.

And yet, she answered, much in our long and detailed discussion pointed to that.

And yet, she answered, much in our long and detailed discussion pointed to that.

Then are you not aware, I insisted, of all the objections—a very swarm of them—that our opponents bring against us in connection with that hope of yours?

Then are you not aware, I insisted, of all the objections, a very swarm of them, which our antagonists bring against us in connection with that hope of yours?

And I immediately tried to repeat all the arguments devised by their contentious advocates to undermine the doctrine of the Resurrection.

And I at once tried to repeat all the devices hit upon by their captious champions to upset the doctrine of the Resurrection.

She replied, "First, I think, we should briefly survey the scattered statements about this doctrine in Holy Scripture; they will put the finishing touch on our discussion. Notice that I hear David, in the midst of his praises in the Divine Songs, saying at the end of the hymn of the hundred and third (104th) Psalm, where he has taken God's administration of the world as his theme: 'You shall take away their breath, and they shall die, and return to their dust. You shall send forth Your Spirit, and they shall be created, and You shall renew the face of the earth.' He says that a power of the Spirit that works in all things gives life to the beings it enters and deprives those it abandons of their life. Since the dying is said to happen when the Spirit departs, and the renewal of these dead ones happens when He appears, and since in the order of the statement the death of those who will be renewed comes first, we believe that in these words the mystery of the Resurrection is proclaimed to the Church, and that David in the spirit of prophecy expressed this very gift you are asking about. You will find this same prophet in another place also saying that the God of the world, the Lord of everything that exists, has shown Himself to us so that we may keep the Feast among those who decorate with boughs. By that mention of decoration with boughs, he means the Feast of Tabernacle-fixing, which has been observed from ancient times in accordance with Moses' command. That lawgiver, I believe, adopting a prophet's spirit, predicted things still to come. For though the decoration was always happening, it was never finished. The truth was foreshadowed under the type and riddle of those Feasts that kept occurring, but the true Tabernacle-fixing had not yet come. For this reason, the God and Lord of the whole world, according to the prophet's statement, has shown Himself to us so that the Tabernacle-fixing of this dwelling of ours that has been dissolved may be kept for humankind—a material decoration, that is, may be begun again through the gathering together of our scattered atoms. For that word in its particular meaning signifies the Temple-circuit and the decoration that completes it. This passage from the Psalms reads as follows: 'God and Lord has shown Himself to us; keep the Feast among those who decorate with boughs, even to the horns of the altar.' This seems to me to proclaim in metaphors the fact that one single feast will be kept by the whole rational creation, and that in that assembly of the saints the lower ones will join the dance with their higher counterparts. For in the case of the fabric of that Temple which was the type, not everyone outside its circuit was allowed to come within, but everything that was Gentile and alien was prohibited from entering. And of those who had entered, not all were equally privileged to advance toward the center, but only those who had consecrated themselves by a holier way of life and by certain sprinklings. And again, not everyone among these last could set foot within the interior of the Temple; only the priests had the right to enter within the Curtain, and that only for the service of the sanctuary. Even to the priests, the darkened shrine of the Temple, where stood the beautiful Altar with its jutting horns, was forbidden, except to one of them who held the highest office of the priesthood, and who once a year, on a set day, and unattended, passed within it carrying an offering more than usually sacred and mystical. Since these are the distinctions connected with this Temple that you know of, it was clearly a representation and imitation of the condition of the spirit-world. The lesson taught by these material observances is this: not all of the rational creation can approach the temple of God, or in other words, the worship of the Almighty; but those who are led astray by false beliefs are outside the precinct of the Deity. Of those who by virtue of this worship have been preferred to the rest and admitted within it, some by reason of sprinklings and purifications have still further privileges. And again among these last, those who have been consecrated as priests have privileges further still, even to being admitted to the mysteries of the interior. To bring the meaning of the allegory into still clearer light, we may understand the Word here as teaching this: among all the Powers endowed with reason, some have been fixed like a Holy Altar in the innermost shrine of the Deity. And of these last, some jut forward like horns because of their eminence, and around them others are arranged first or second according to a prescribed sequence of rank. The race of humanity, by contrast, was excluded from the Divine precinct on account of indwelling evil, but when purified with lustral water it re-enters it. Since all the further barriers by which our sin has fenced us off from the things within the veil are in the end to be taken down, whenever the time comes that the tabernacle of our nature is, so to speak, fixed up again in the Resurrection, and all the deep-rooted corruption of sin has vanished from the world, then a universal feast will be kept around the Deity by those who have decorated themselves in the Resurrection. One and the same banquet will be spread for all, with no differences cutting off any rational creature from an equal share in it. For those who are now excluded because of their sin will at last be admitted within the Holiest places of God's blessedness and will bind themselves to the horns of the Altar there—that is, to the most excellent of the transcendent Powers. The Apostle says the same thing more plainly when he indicates the final harmony of the whole universe with the Good: 'That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven and things on earth and things under the earth, and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.' Instead of the horns, he speaks of that which is angelic and in heaven, and by the other terms he signifies ourselves, the creatures whom we think of next to that. One festival of united voices shall occupy us all; that festival shall be the confession and recognition of the Being Who truly Is. One might," she continued, "select many other passages of Holy Scripture to establish the doctrine of the Resurrection. For instance, Ezekiel leaps in the spirit of prophecy over all the intervening time with its vast duration. He stands, by his powers of foresight, in the actual moment of the Resurrection, and as if he had really gazed on what is still to come, brings it before our eyes in his description. He saw a mighty plain spread out to an endless distance before him, and vast heaps of bones upon it flung at random, some this way, some that. Then under an impulse from God these bones began to move and group themselves with their fellows that they once belonged to, and attach to the familiar sockets, and then clothe themselves with muscle, flesh, and skin—which was the process called decorating in the poetry of the Psalms. A Spirit, in fact, was giving life and movement to everything that lay there. But as for our Apostle's description of the wonders of the Resurrection, why should one repeat it, since it can easily be found and read? How, for instance, with a shout and the sound of trumpets—in the language of the Word—all dead and prostrate things shall be changed in the twinkling of an eye into immortal beings. The expressions in the Gospels I will also pass over, for their meaning is quite clear to everyone. Our Lord does not declare in word alone that the bodies of the dead shall be raised up again; but He shows in action the Resurrection itself, making a beginning of this work of wonder from things more within our reach and less capable of being doubted. First, that is, He displays His life-giving power in the case of deadly forms of disease, and chases those illnesses away by one word of command. Then He raises a little girl just dead. Then He makes a young man who is already being carried out sit up on his bier and delivers him to his mother. After that He calls forth from his tomb the four-days-dead and already decomposing Lazarus, bringing the prostrate body to life with His commanding voice. Then after three days He raises His own human body from the dead, though it was pierced with the nails and spear, and brings the print of those nails and the spear-wound as witness to the Resurrection. But I think that a detailed mention of these things is not necessary, for no doubt about them lingers in the minds of those who have accepted the written accounts of them."

She, however, replied, First, I think, we must briefly run over the scattered proclamations of this doctrine in Holy Scripture; they shall give the finishing touch to our discourse. Observe, then, that I can hear David, in the midst of his praises in the Divine Songs, saying at the end of the hymnody of the hundred and third (104th) Psalm, where he has taken for his theme God's administration of the world, You shall take away their breath, and they shall die, and return to their dust: You shall send forth Your Spirit, and they shall be created: and You shall renew the face of the earth. He says that a power of the Spirit which works in all vivifies the beings into whom it enters, and deprives those whom He abandons of their life. Seeing, then, that the dying is declared to occur at the Spirit's departure, and the renewal of these dead ones at His appearance, and seeing moreover that in the order of the statement the death of those who are to be thus renewed comes first, we hold that in these words that mystery of the Resurrection is proclaimed to the Church, and that David in the spirit of prophecy expressed this very gift which you are asking about. You will find this same prophet in another place also saying that the God of the world, the Lord of everything that is, has showed Himself to us, that we may keep the Feast among the decorators; by that mention of decoration with boughs, he means the Feast of Tabernacle-fixing, which, in accordance with Moses' injunction, has been observed from of old. That lawgiver, I take it, adopting a prophet's spirit, predicted therein things still to come; for though the decoration was always going on it was never finished. The truth indeed was foreshadowed under the type and riddle of those Feasts that were always occurring, but the true Tabernacle-fixing was not yet come; and on this account the God and Lord of the whole world, according to the Prophet's declaration, has showed Himself to us, that the Tabernacle-fixing of this our tenement that has been dissolved may be kept for human kind; a material decoration, that is, may be begun again by means of the concourse of our scattered atoms. For that word πυκασμὸς in its peculiar meaning signifies the Temple-circuit and the decoration which completes it. Now this passage from the Psalms runs as follows: God and Lord has showed Himself to us; keep the Feast among the decorators even unto the horns of the altar; and this seems to me to proclaim in metaphors the fact that one single feast is to be kept by the whole rational creation, and that in that assembly of the saints the inferiors are to join the dance with their superiors. For in the case of the fabric of that Temple which was the Type it was not allowed to all who were on the outside of its circuit to come within, but everything that was Gentile and alien was prohibited from entering; and of those, further, who had entered, all were not equally privileged to advance towards the centre; but only those who had consecrated themselves by a holier manner of life, and by certain sprinklings; and, again, not every one among these last might set foot within the interior of the Temple; the priests alone had the right of entering within the Curtain, and that only for the service of the sanctuary; while even to the priests the darkened shrine of the Temple, where stood the beautiful Altar with its jutting horns, was forbidden, except to one of them, who held the highest office of the priesthood, and who once a year, on a stated day, and unattended, passed within it, carrying an offering more than usually sacred and mystical. Such being the differences in connection with this Temple which you know of, it was clearly a representation and an imitation of the condition of the spirit-world, the lesson taught by these material observances being this, that it is not the whole of the rational creation that can approach the temple of God, or, in other words, the adoration of the Almighty; but that those who are led astray by false persuasions are outside the precinct of the Deity; and that from the number of those who by virtue of this adoration have been preferred to the rest and admitted within it, some by reason of sprinklings and purifications have still further privileges; and again among these last those who have been consecrated priests have privileges further still, even to being admitted to the mysteries of the interior. And, that one may bring into still clearer light the meaning of the allegory, we may understand the Word here as teaching this, that among all the Powers endued with reason some have been fixed like a Holy Altar in the inmost shrine of the Deity; and that again of these last some jut forward like horns, for their eminence, and that around them others are arranged first or second, according to a prescribed sequence of rank; that the race of man, on the contrary, on account of indwelling evil was excluded from the Divine precinct, but that purified with lustral water it re-enters it; and, since all the further barriers by which our sin has fenced us off from the things within the veil are in the end to be taken down, whenever the time comes that the tabernacle of our nature is as it were to be fixed up again in the Resurrection, and all the inveterate corruption of sin has vanished from the world, then a universal feast will be kept around the Deity by those who have decorated themselves in the Resurrection; and one and the same banquet will be spread for all, with no differences cutting off any rational creature from an equal participation in it; for those who are now excluded by reason of their sin will at last be admitted within the Holiest places of God's blessedness, and will bind themselves to the horns of the Altar there, that is, to the most excellent of the transcendental Powers. The Apostle says the same thing more plainly when he indicates the final accord of the whole Universe with the Good: That to Him every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth: And that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father: instead of the horns, speaking of that which is angelic and in heaven, and by the other terms signifying ourselves, the creatures whom we think of next to that; one festival of united voices shall occupy us all; that festival shall be the confession and the recognition of the Being Who truly Is. One might (she proceeded) select many other passages of Holy Scripture to establish the doctrine of the Resurrection. For instance, Ezekiel leaps in the spirit of prophecy over all the intervening time, with its vast duration; he stands, by his powers of foresight, in the actual moment of the Resurrection, and, as if he had really gazed on what is still to come, brings it in his description before our eyes. He saw a mighty plain Ezekiel 37:1-10, unfolded to an endless distance before him, and vast heaps of bones upon it flung at random, some this way, some that; and then under an impulse from God these bones began to move and group themselves with their fellows that they once owned, and adhere to the familiar sockets, and then clothe themselves with muscle, flesh, and skin (which was the process called decorating in the poetry of the Psalms); a Spirit in fact was giving life and movement to everything that lay there. But as regards our Apostle's description of the wonders of the Resurrection, why should one repeat it, seeing that it can easily be found and read? How, for instance, with a shout and the sound of trumpets (in the language of the Word) all dead and prostrate things shall be changed in the twinkling of an eye into immortal beings. The expressions in the Gospels also I will pass over; for their meaning is quite clear to every one; and our Lord does not declare in word alone that the bodies of the dead shall be raised up again; but He shows in action the Resurrection itself, making a beginning of this work of wonder from things more within our reach and less capable of being doubted. First, that is, He displays His life-giving power in the case of the deadly forms of disease, and chases those maladies by one word of command; then He raises a little girl just dead; then He makes a young man, who is already being carried out, sit up on his bier, and delivers him to his mother; after that He calls forth from his tomb the four-days-dead and already decomposed Lazarus, vivifying the prostrate body with His commanding voice; then after three days He raises from the dead His own human body, pierced though it was with the nails and spear, and brings the print of those nails and the spear-wound to witness to the Resurrection. But I think that a detailed mention of these things is not necessary; for no doubt about them lingers in the minds of those who have accepted the written accounts of them.

But that, I said, was not the point in question. Most of your listeners will agree that there will someday be a Resurrection, and that humanity will be brought before the incorruptible tribunal—both because of the Scripture proofs and because of our previous examination of the question. But the question still remains: Will the state we are to expect be like the present state of the body? Because if so, then, as I was saying, people would be better off not hoping for any Resurrection at all. For if our bodies are to be restored to life again in the same sort of condition as they are in when they stop breathing, then all that humanity can look forward to in the Resurrection is an unending calamity. For what spectacle is more pitiful than when in extreme old age our bodies shrivel up and change into something repulsive and hideous, with the flesh all wasted away over the years, the skin dried up around the bones until it is all wrinkled, the muscles in a spasmodic state because they are no longer enriched with their natural moisture, and the whole body consequently shrunken, the hands on either side powerless to perform their natural work, shaken with an involuntary trembling? What a sight also are the bodies of people in advanced stages of consumption! They differ from bare bones only in giving the appearance of being covered with a worn-out veil of skin. What a sight too are those of people swollen with dropsy! What words could describe the unsightly disfigurement of people suffering from leprosy? Gradually rottenness spreads over all their limbs and organs of sensation and devours them. What words could describe the condition of people who have been mutilated in earthquakes, battles, or by any other disaster, and live on in such a state for a long time before their natural deaths? Or of those who from an injury have grown up from infancy with their limbs twisted! What can one say of them? What is one to think about the bodies of newborn infants who have been either abandoned, strangled, or died a natural death, if they are to be brought to life again just as they were? Are they to continue in that infant state? What condition could be more miserable than that? Or are they to come to the prime of their age? Well, but what sort of milk does Nature have to nurse them with again? It comes then to this: if our bodies are to live again in every respect the same as before, this thing that we are expecting is simply a calamity; whereas if they are not the same, the person raised up will be someone other than the one who died. If, for instance, a little boy was buried but a grown man rises again, or the reverse, how can we say that the dead person himself is raised up, when someone has been substituted for him because of this difference in age? Instead of the child, one sees a grown man. Instead of the old man, one sees a person in his prime. In fact, instead of the one person, someone else entirely. The cripple is changed into the able-bodied person; the consumptive sufferer into a person whose flesh is firm; and so on in all possible cases, not to list them all for fear of being too long-winded. If, then, the body will not come to life again with exactly the same attributes it had when it mingled with the earth, that dead body will not rise again; but on the contrary the earth will be formed into another person. How, then, will the Resurrection affect me, when instead of me someone else will come to life? Someone else, I say; for how could I recognize myself when, instead of what was once myself, I see someone who is not myself? It cannot really be me, unless it is in every respect the same as myself. Suppose, for instance, in this life I had in my memory the features of someone; say he was bald, had prominent lips, a somewhat flat nose, a fair complexion, grey eyes, white hair, wrinkled skin; and then I went to look for such a person and met a young man with a full head of hair, an aquiline nose, a dark complexion, and in all other respects quite different in his type of appearance; am I likely in seeing the latter to think of the former? But why dwell longer on these less forceful objections to the Resurrection and neglect the strongest one of all? For who has not heard that human life is like a stream, moving from birth to death at a certain rate of progress, and only ceasing from that progressive movement when it also ceases to exist? This movement indeed is not one of spatial change; our size never exceeds itself; but it makes this advance through internal alteration; and as long as this alteration is what its name implies, it never remains at the same stage from moment to moment; for how can that which is being altered be kept in any sameness? The fire on the wick, as far as appearance goes, certainly seems always the same, the continuity of its movement giving it the look of being an uninterrupted and self-contained whole; but in reality it is always passing itself along and never remains the same; the moisture which is extracted by the heat is burned up and changed into smoke the moment it has burst into flame, and this alterative force produces the movement of the flame, working by itself to change the subject-matter into smoke. Just as it is impossible for someone who has touched that flame twice in the same place to touch the very same flame twice (for the speed of the alteration is too quick; it does not wait for that second touch, however rapidly it may be done; the flame is always fresh and new; it is always being produced, always transmitting itself, never remaining in one and the same state), the same kind of thing is found to be the case with the constitution of our body. There is inflow and outflow going on in it in an alterative progress until the moment that it ceases to live; as long as it is living it has no stability; for it is either being replenished, or it is discharging as vapor, or it is being kept in motion by both of these processes combined. If, then, a particular person is not the same even as he was yesterday, but is made different by this transmutation, when the Resurrection restores our body to life again, that single person will become a crowd of human beings, so that with his rising again there will be found the baby, the child, the boy, the youth, the man, the father, the old man, and all the intermediate persons that he once was. But further: chastity and profligacy are both carried on in the flesh; those also who endure the most painful tortures for their religion, and those on the other hand who shrink from such, both one class and the other reveal their character in relation to fleshly sensations. How, then, can justice be done at the Judgment?

But that, said I, was not the point in question. Most of your hearers will assent to the fact that there will some day be a Resurrection, and that man will be brought before the incorruptible tribunal; on account both of the Scripture proofs, and also of our previous examination of the question. But still the question remains: Is the state which we are to expect to be like the present state of the body? Because if so, then, as I was saying, men had better avoid hoping for any Resurrection at all. For if our bodies are to be restored to life again in the same sort of condition as they are in when they cease to breathe, then all that man can look forward to in the Resurrection is an unending calamity. For what spectacle is more piteous than when in extreme old age our bodies shrivel up and change into something repulsive and hideous, with the flesh all wasted in the length of years, the skin dried up about the bones till it is all in wrinkles, the muscles in a spasmodic state from being no longer enriched with their natural moisture, and the whole body consequently shrunk, the hands on either side powerless to perform their natural work, shaken with an involuntary trembling? What a sight again are the bodies of persons in a long consumption! They differ from bare bones only in giving the appearance of being covered with a worn-out veil of skin. What a sight too are those of persons swollen with the disease of dropsy! What words could describe the unsightly disfigurement of sufferers from leprosy? Gradually over all their limbs and organs of sensation rottenness spreads and devours them. What words could describe that of persons who have been mutilated in earthquake, battle, or by any other visitation, and live on in such a plight for a long time before their natural deaths? Or of those who from an injury have grown up from infancy with their limbs awry! What can one say of them? What is one to think about the bodies of newborn infants who have been either exposed, or strangled, or died a natural death, if they are to be brought to life again just such as they were? Are they to continue in that infantine state? What condition could be more miserable than that? Or are they to come to the flower of their age? Well, but what sort of milk has Nature got to suckle them again with? It comes then to this: that, if our bodies are to live again in every respect the same as before, this thing that we are expecting is simply a calamity; whereas if they are not the same, the person raised up will be another than he who died. If, for instance, a little boy was buried, but a grown man rises again, or reversely, how can we say that the dead in his very self is raised up, when he has had some one substituted for him by virtue of this difference in age? Instead of the child, one sees a grown-up man. Instead of the old man, one sees a person in his prime. In fact, instead of the one person another entirely. The cripple is changed into the able-bodied man; the consumptive sufferer into a man whose flesh is firm; and so on of all possible cases, not to enumerate them for fear of being prolix. If, then, the body will not come to life again just such in its attributes as it was when it mingled with the earth, that dead body will not rise again; but on the contrary the earth will be formed into another man. How, then, will the Resurrection affect myself, when instead of me some one else will come to life? Some one else, I say; for how could I recognize myself when, instead of what was once myself, I see some one not myself? It cannot really be I, unless it is in every respect the same as myself. Suppose, for instance, in this life I had in my memory the traits of some one; say he was bald, had prominent lips, a somewhat flat nose, a fair complexion, grey eyes, white hair, wrinkled skin; and then went to look for such an one, and met a young man with a fine head of hair, an aquiline nose, a dark complexion, and in all other respects quite different in his type of countenance; am I likely in seeing the latter to think of the former? But why dwell longer on these the less forcible objections to the Resurrection, and neglect the strongest one of all? For who has not heard that human life is like a stream, moving from birth to death at a certain rate of progress, and then only ceasing from that progressive movement when it ceases also to exist? This movement indeed is not one of spacial change; our bulk never exceeds itself; but it makes this advance by means of internal alteration; and as long as this alteration is that which its name implies, it never remains at the same stage (from moment to moment); for how can that which is being altered be kept in any sameness? The fire on the wick, as far as appearance goes, certainly seems always the same, the continuity of its movement giving it the look of being an uninterrupted and self-centred whole; but in reality it is always passing itself along and never remains the same; the moisture which is extracted by the heat is burnt up and changed into smoke the moment it has burst into flame and this alterative force effects the movement of the flame, working by itself the change of the subject-matter into smoke; just, then, as it is impossible for one who has touched that flame twice on the same place, to touch twice the very same flame (for the speed of the alteration is too quick; it does not wait for that second touch, however rapidly it may be effected; the flame is always fresh and new; it is always being produced, always transmitting itself, never remaining at one and the same place), a thing of the same kind is found to be the case with the constitution of our body. There is influx and afflux going on in it in an alterative progress until the moment that it ceases to live; as long as it is living it has no stay; for it is either being replenished, or it is discharging in vapour, or it is being kept in motion by both of these processes combined. If, then, a particular man is not the same even as he was yesterday, but is made different by this transmutation, when so be that the Resurrection shall restore our body to life again, that single man will become a crowd of human beings, so that with his rising again there will be found the babe, the child, the boy, the youth, the man, the father, the old man, and all the intermediate persons that he once was. But further; chastity and profligacy are both carried on in the flesh; those also who endure the most painful tortures for their religion, and those on the other hand who shrink from such, both one class and the other reveal their character in relation to fleshly sensations; how, then, can justice be done at the Judgment?

Consider also the case of one and the same person who first sins and then cleanses himself through repentance, and then perhaps falls back into sin. In such a case both the defiled and the undefiled body undergo change as his physis changes, and neither remains the same to the end. Which body, then, is to be tortured for the profligate behavior? The body stiffened with old age and near death? But this is not the same as the one that committed the sin. Then the body that defiled itself by giving in to passion? But where is the old man in that case? This latter body will not rise again, and the Resurrection will not accomplish a complete work. Or else the old man will rise, while the criminal escapes. Let me mention something else from among the objections unbelievers raise against this doctrine. No part of the body, they argue, is made by nature without a function. Some parts are the efficient causes within us of being alive; without them our life in the flesh could not possibly continue. These include the heart, liver, brain, lungs, stomach, and the other vital organs. Other parts are assigned to the activities of sensation, others to handling and walking, and others are adapted for producing offspring. Now if the life to come is to have exactly the same circumstances as this one, the supposed change in us amounts to nothing. But if the report is true, as it surely is, that marriage forms no part of the economy of that afterlife, and eating and drinking will not sustain its continuance, what use will there be for the members of our body when we no longer expect any of the activities for which our members now exist? If certain organs now exist for the sake of marriage, then when marriage ceases we will not need those organs. The same applies to hands for working, feet for running, the mouth for taking food, teeth for grinding it, the organs of the stomach for digesting, and the evacuating ducts for disposing of what has become superfluous. When all these operations are no more, how or why would their instruments exist? Therefore, necessarily, if the things that will not contribute in any way to that other life are not to surround the body, none of the parts that currently constitute the body would exist either. That life will then be carried on by other instruments, and no one could call such a state of things a Resurrection where the particular members are no longer present in the body because they are useless to that life. But if on the other hand our Resurrection will include every one of these members, then the Author of the Resurrection will fashion things in us that are of no use or advantage to that life. Yet we must believe not only that there is a Resurrection, but also that it will not be an absurdity. We must therefore listen carefully to the explanation of this, so that we may preserve the credibility of every part of this truth to the end.

Or take the case of one and the same man first sinning and then cleansing himself by repentance, and then, it might so happen, relapsing into his sin; in such a case both the defiled and the undefiled body alike undergoes a change, as his nature changes, and neither of them continue to the end the same; which body, then, is the profligate to be tortured in? In that which is stiffened with old age and is near to death? But this is not the same as that which did the sin. In that, then, which defiled itself by giving way to passion? But where is the old man, in that case? This last, in fact, will not rise again, and the Resurrection will not do a complete work; or else he will rise, while the criminal will escape. Let me say something else also from among the objections made by unbelievers to this doctrine. No part, they urge, of the body is made by nature without a function. Some parts, for instance, are the efficient causes within us of our being alive; without them our life in the flesh could not possibly be carried on; such are the heart, liver, brain, lungs, stomach, and the other vitals; others are assigned to the activities of sensation; others to those of handing and walking; others are adapted for the transmission of a posterity. Now if the life to come is to be in exactly the same circumstances as this, the supposed change in us is reduced to nothing; but if the report is true, as indeed it is, which represents marriage as forming no part of the economy of that after-life, and eating and drinking as not then preserving its continuance, what use will there be for the members of our body, when we are no longer to expect in that existence any of the activities for which our members now exist? If, for the sake of marriage, there are now certain organs adapted for marriage, then, whenever the latter ceases to be, we shall not need those organs: the same may be said of the hands for working with, the feet for running with, the mouth for taking food with, the teeth for grinding it with, the organs of the stomach for digesting, the evacuating ducts for getting rid of that which has become superfluous. When therefore, all those operations will be no more how or wherefore will their instruments exist? So that necessarily, if the things that are not going to contribute in any way to that other life are not to surround the body, none of the parts which at present constitute the body would exist either. That life, then, will be carried on by other instruments; and no one could call such a state of things a Resurrection, where the particular members are no longer present in the body, owing to their being useless to that life. But if on the other hand our Resurrection will be represented in every one of these; then the Author of the Resurrection will fashion things in us of no use and advantage to that life. And yet we must believe, not only that there is a Resurrection, but also that it will not be an absurdity. We must, therefore, listen attentively to the explanation of this, so that, for every part of this truth we may have its probability saved to the last.

When I had finished, the Teacher replied as follows: You have attacked the doctrines connected with the Resurrection with some energy, using what is called rhetoric. You have circled around and around the truth with plausibly subversive arguments, so much so that those who have not carefully considered this mysterious truth might possibly have their view of it affected by the apparent likelihood of those arguments, and might think that the difficulty you raised against what has been advanced was not altogether beside the point. But, she continued, the truth does not lie in these arguments, even though we may find it impossible to give a rhetorical answer to them couched in equally strong language. The true explanation of all these questions is still stored up in the hidden treasure-rooms of Wisdom, and will not come to light until that moment when we are taught the mystery of the Resurrection by the reality of it. Then there will be no more need for words to explain the things we now hope for. Just as many questions might be raised for debate among people sitting up at night about what kind of thing sunshine is, and then the simple appearing of it in all its beauty would make any verbal description unnecessary, so every calculation that tries to arrive speculatively at the future state will be reduced to nothing by the object of our hopes when it comes upon us. But since it is our duty not to leave the arguments brought against us unexamined in any way, we will expound the truth about these points as follows. First let us get a clear understanding of the scope of this doctrine—in other words, what is the end that Holy Scripture has in view in promulgating it and creating belief in it. Well, to sketch the outline of so vast a truth and to embrace it in a definition, we will say that the Resurrection is the reconstitution of our nature in its original form. But in that form of life, of which God Himself was the Creator, it is reasonable to believe that there was neither old age nor infancy nor any of the sufferings arising from our present various infirmities, nor any kind of bodily affliction whatever. It is reasonable, I say, to believe that God was the Creator of none of these things, but that man was a divine thing before his humanity came within reach of the assault of evil. Then, however, with the inroad of evil, all these afflictions also broke in upon him. Accordingly, a life that is free from evil has no necessity whatever of being passed amid the things that result from evil. It follows that when a man travels through ice he must get his body chilled, or when he walks in a very hot sun he must get his skin darkened, but if he has kept clear of one or the other, he escapes these results entirely—both the darkening and the chilling. In fact, no one would be justified in looking for the effect of a particular cause when that particular cause has been removed. Just so our nature (physis), becoming subject to passion, had to encounter all the necessary results of a life of passion, but when it has returned to that state of passionless blessedness, it will no longer encounter the inevitable results of evil tendencies. Seeing, then, that all the infusions of the life of the brute into our nature (physis) were not in us before our humanity descended through the touch of evil into passions, most certainly when we abandon those passions we shall abandon all their visible results. No one, therefore, will be justified in seeking in that other life for the consequences in us of any passion. Just as a man who, clad in a ragged tunic, has taken off the garment no longer feels its disgrace upon him, so we too, when we have cast off that dead unsightly tunic made from the skins of brutes and put upon us (for I take the coats of skins to mean that conformation belonging to a brute nature with which we were clothed when we became familiar with passionate indulgence), shall, along with the casting off of that tunic, fling from us all the belongings that were around us of that skin of a brute. Such accretions are sexual intercourse, conception, childbirth, impurities, nursing, feeding, evacuation, gradual growth to full size, prime of life, old age, disease, and death. If that skin is no longer around us, how can its resulting consequences be left behind within us? It is foolish, then, when we are to expect a different state of things in the life to come, to object to the doctrine of the Resurrection on the ground of something that has nothing to do with it. I mean, what does thinness or corpulence, a state of consumption or of excess, or any other condition supervening in a nature (physis) that is ever in flux, have to do with the other life, which is a stranger to any fleeting and transitory passing such as that? One thing, and one thing only, is required for the operation of the Resurrection: namely, that a man should have lived by being born, or to use rather the Gospel words, that a man should be born into the world. The length or brevity of the life, the manner of the death, this or that, is an irrelevant subject of inquiry in connection with that operation. Whatever instance we take, however we suppose this to have been, it is all the same. From these differences in life there arises no difficulty, any more than any facility, with regard to the Resurrection. He who has once begun to live must necessarily go on having once lived, after his intervening dissolution in death has been repaired in the Resurrection.

When I had finished, the Teacher thus replied, You have attacked the doctrines connected with the Resurrection with some spirit, in the way of rhetoric as it is called; you have coursed round and round the truth with plausibly subversive arguments; so much so, that those who have not very carefully considered this mysterious truth might possibly be affected in their view of it by the likelihood of those arguments, and might think that the difficulty started against what has been advanced was not altogether beside the point. But, she proceeded, the truth does not lie in these arguments, even though we may find it impossible to give a rhetorical answer to them, couched in equally strong language. The true explanation of all these questions is still stored up in the hidden treasure-rooms of Wisdom, and will not come to the light until that moment when we shall be taught the mystery of the Resurrection by the reality of it; and then there will be no more need of phrases to explain the things which we now hope for. Just as many questions might be started for debate among people sitting up at night as to the kind of thing that sunshine is, and then the simple appearing of it in all its beauty would render any verbal description superfluous, so every calculation that tries to arrive conjecturally at the future state will be reduced to nothingness by the object of our hopes, when it comes upon us. But since it is our duty not to leave the arguments brought against us in any way unexamined, we will expound the truth as to these points as follows. First let us get a clear notion as to the scope of this doctrine; in other words, what is the end that Holy Scripture has in view in promulgating it and creating the belief in it. Well, to sketch the outline of so vast a truth and to embrace it in a definition, we will say that the Resurrection is the reconstitution of our nature in its original form. But in that form of life, of which God Himself was the Creator, it is reasonable to believe that there was neither age nor infancy nor any of the sufferings arising from our present various infirmities, nor any kind of bodily affliction whatever. It is reasonable, I say, to believe that God was the Creator of none of these things, but that man was a thing divine before his humanity got within reach of the assault of evil; that then, however, with the inroad of evil, all these afflictions also broke in upon him. Accordingly a life that is free from evil is under no necessity whatever of being passed amidst the things that result from evil. It follows that when a man travels through ice he must get his body chilled; or when he walks in a very hot sun that he must get his skin darkened; but if he has kept clear of the one or the other, he escapes these results entirely, both the darkening and the chilling; no one, in fact, when a particular cause was removed, would be justified in looking for the effect of that particular cause. Just so our nature, becoming passional, had to encounter all the necessary results of a life of passion: but when it shall have started back to that state of passionless blessedness, it will no longer encounter the inevitable results of evil tendencies. Seeing, then, that all the infusions of the life of the brute into our nature were not in us before our humanity descended through the touch of evil into passions, most certainly, when we abandon those passions, we shall abandon all their visible results. No one, therefore, will be justified in seeking in that other life for the consequences in us of any passion. Just as if a man, who, clad in a ragged tunic, has divested himself of the garb, feels no more its disgrace upon him, so we too, when we have cast off that dead unsightly tunic made from the skins of brutes and put upon us (for I take the coats of skins to mean that conformation belonging to a brute nature with which we were clothed when we became familiar with passionate indulgence), shall, along with the casting off of that tunic, fling from us all the belongings that were round us of that skin of a brute; and such accretions are sexual intercourse, conception, parturition, impurities, suckling, feeding, evacuation, gradual growth to full size, prime of life, old age, disease, and death. If that skin is no longer round us, how can its resulting consequences be left behind within us? It is folly, then, when we are to expect a different state of things in the life to come, to object to the doctrine of the Resurrection on the ground of something that has nothing to do with it. I mean, what has thinness or corpulence, a state of consumption or of plethora, or any other condition supervening in a nature that is ever in a flux, to do with the other life, stranger as it is to any fleeting and transitory passing such as that? One thing, and one thing only, is required for the operation of the Resurrection; viz. that a man should have lived, by being born; or, to use rather the Gospel words, that a man should be born into the world; the length or briefness of the life, the manner, this or that, of the death, is an irrelevant subject of inquiry in connection with that operation. Whatever instance we take, howsoever we suppose this to have been, it is all the same; from these differences in life there arises no difficulty, any more than any facility, with regard to the Resurrection. He who has once begun to live must necessarily go on having once lived, after his intervening dissolution in death has been repaired in the Resurrection.

Regarding the how and when of someone's death, what do these matter to the Resurrection? Considering such points belongs to an entirely different line of inquiry. For example, a person may have lived in bodily comfort or in hardship, virtuously or wickedly, with a good reputation or in disgrace. They may have spent their days miserably or happily. These and similar outcomes must be traced to the length of their life and how they lived it. To judge the things done in someone's life, a judge would need to examine their pleasures, losses, disease, old age, prime of life, youth, wealth, or poverty—how well or poorly a person situated in any of these circumstances completed their appointed life, whether they received many blessings or many troubles during a long life, or experienced neither but died before their mental faculties were fully formed. But when the time comes that God has brought our nature back to humanity's original state, it will be pointless to talk about such things then or to imagine that objections based on them can prove that God's power is blocked from reaching His purpose. His purpose is single and unique: when the complete whole of our race has been perfected from the first person to the last—some having been cleansed from evil immediately in this life, others having been healed afterward by the Fire during the necessary periods, and others having been unaware of both good and evil in their earthly life—to offer every one of us participation in the blessings that are in Him, which Scripture tells us no eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no thought has ever grasped. But this is nothing other, as I at least understand it, than to be in God Himself, for the Good that is beyond hearing and eye and heart must be that Good which transcends the universe. The difference between the virtuous and the wicked life lived in the present time will be shown in this way: in how quickly or slowly each person participates in that promised blessedness. The duration of each person's cure will be measured according to the amount of wickedness deeply rooted in them. This cure consists in the cleansing of the soul, and that cannot be accomplished without an agonizing condition, as was explained in our earlier discussion. But anyone would more fully grasp how futile and irrelevant all these objections are by trying to fathom the depths of our Apostle's wisdom. When explaining this mystery to the Corinthians, who were perhaps themselves raising the same objections to it that today's critics raise to undermine our faith, he proceeds on his own authority to rebuke the boldness of their ignorance, saying: You will say to me then, How are the dead raised up, and with what body do they come? You fool, what you sow is not brought to life unless it dies. And what you sow, you do not sow the body that will be, but bare grain, perhaps of wheat or some other grain. But God gives it a body as it pleased Him. In that passage, as it seems to me, he silences the mouths of those who display their ignorance of the proper proportions in Nature, who measure Divine power by their own strength and think that only as much is possible to God as human understanding can grasp, while what is beyond it also surpasses Divine ability. For the person who asked the Apostle, How are the dead raised up? clearly implies that once the body's atoms have been scattered, it is impossible for them to come together again. And since this is impossible, and no other possible form of body besides one arising from such a reuniting remains, he concludes—like a clever debater using a kind of logical argument—what he wants to prove: If a body is a gathering of atoms, and a second assembly of these atoms is impossible, what kind of body will those who rise again have? The Apostle calls this conclusion, seemingly wrapped in this clever arrangement of premises, foolishness, because it comes from people who failed to perceive in other parts of creation the mastery of Divine power. For, setting aside the more sublime miracles of God's hand by which he could have easily cornered his listener (for instance, he might have asked how or from where comes a heavenly body, such as the sun or the moon, or what is seen in the constellations; where do the firmament, the air, water, and the earth come from?), he instead convicts the objectors of thoughtlessness by means of things that grow right beside us and are very familiar to everyone. Does not even farming teach you, he asks, that the person who calculates the transcendent powers of the Deity and limits them by his own is a fool? Where do seeds get the bodies that spring up from them? What comes before this springing up? Is it not death that comes first? At least, if the dissolution of something compacted together is death—for indeed, one cannot suppose that the seed would spring up into a shoot unless it had been dissolved in the soil and thus become spongy and porous enough to mix its own qualities with the moisture of the surrounding soil, and thereby be transformed into root and shoot. Nor does it stop even there, but changes again into the stalk with its joints in between that support it like clasps, enabling it to carry the ear with its load of grain in an upright form. Where, then, were all these things that belong to the grain before its dissolution in the soil? And yet this result came from that grain; if that grain had not existed first, the ear would not have come into being. Just as the body of the ear comes to light out of the seed—God's artistic touch of power producing it all from that single thing—and just as it is neither entirely the same thing as that seed nor something altogether different, so (she insisted) by these miracles performed on seeds you may now interpret the mystery of the Resurrection. The Divine power, in the overflowing abundance of Omnipotence, not only restores to you that body once dissolved, but makes great and splendid additions to it, so that the human being is equipped in an even more magnificent way.

As to the how and the when of his dissolution, what do they matter to the Resurrection? Consideration of such points belongs to another line of inquiry altogether. For instance, a man may have lived in bodily comfort, or in affliction, virtuously or viciously, renowned or disgraced; he may have passed his days miserably, or happily. These and such-like results must be obtained from the length of his life and the manner of his living; and to be able to pass a judgment on the things done in his life, it will be necessary for the judge to scrutinize his indulgences, as the case may be, or his losses, or his disease, or his old age, or his prime, or his youth, or his wealth, or his poverty: how well or ill a man, placed in either of these, concluded his destined career; whether he was the recipient of many blessings, or of many ills in a length of life; or tasted neither of them at all, but ceased to live before his mental powers were formed. But whenever the time come that God shall have brought our nature back to the primal state of man, it will be useless to talk of such things then, and to imagine that objections based upon such things can prove God's power to be impeded in arriving at His end. His end is one, and one only; it is this: when the complete whole of our race shall have been perfected from the first man to the last — some having at once in this life been cleansed from evil, others having afterwards in the necessary periods been healed by the Fire, others having in their life here been unconscious equally of good and of evil — to offer to every one of us participation in the blessings which are in Him, which, the Scripture tells us, eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor thought ever reached. But this is nothing else, as I at least understand it, but to be in God Himself; for the Good which is above hearing and eye and heart must be that Good which transcends the universe. But the difference between the virtuous and the vicious life led at the present time will be illustrated in this way; viz. in the quicker or more tardy participation of each in that promised blessedness. According to the amount of the ingrained wickedness of each will be computed the duration of his cure. This cure consists in the cleansing of his soul, and that cannot be achieved without an excruciating condition, as has been expounded in our previous discussion. But any one would more fully comprehend the futility and irrelevancy of all these objections by trying to fathom the depths of our Apostle's wisdom. When explaining this mystery to the Corinthians, who, perhaps, themselves were bringing forward the same objections to it as its impugners today bring forward to overthrow our faith, he proceeds on his own authority to chide the audacity of their ignorance, and speaks thus: You will say, then, to me, How are the dead raised up, and with what body do they come? You fool, that which you sow is not quickened, except it die; And that which you sow, you sow not that body that shall be, but bare grain, it may chance of wheat or of some other grain; But God gives it a body as it has pleased Him. In that passage, as it seems to me, he gags the mouths of men who display their ignorance of the fitting proportions in Nature, and who measure the Divine power by their own strength, and think that only so much is possible to God as the human understanding can take in, but that what is beyond it surpasses also the Divine ability. For the man who had asked the Apostle, how are the dead raised up? evidently implies that it is impossible when once the body's atoms have been scattered that they should again come in concourse together; and this being impossible, and no other possible form of body, besides that arising from such a concourse, being left, he, after the fashion of clever controversialists, concludes the truth of what he wants to prove, by a species of syllogism, thus: If a body is a concourse of atoms, and a second assemblage of these is impossible, what sort of body will those get who rise again? This conclusion, involved seemingly in this artful contrivance of premisses, the Apostle calls folly, as coming from men who failed to perceive in other parts of the creation the masterliness of the Divine power. For, omitting the sublimer miracles of God's hand, by which it would have been easy to place his hearer in a dilemma (for instance he might have asked how or whence comes a heavenly body, that of the sun for example, or that of the moon, or that which is seen in the constellations; whence the firmament, the air, water, the earth?), he, on the contrary, convicts the objectors of inconsiderateness by means of objects which grow alongside of us and are very familiar to all. Does not even husbandry teach you, he asks, that the man who in calculating the transcendent powers of the Deity limits them by his own is a fool? Whence do seeds get the bodies that spring up from them? What precedes this springing up? Is it not a death that precedes? At least, if the dissolution of a compacted whole is a death; for indeed it cannot be supposed that the seed would spring up into a shoot unless it had been dissolved in the soil, and so become spongy and porous to such an extent as to mingle its own qualities with the adjacent moisture of the soil, and thus become transformed into a root and shoot; not stopping even there, but changing again into the stalk with its intervening knee-joints that gird it up like so many clasps, to enable it to carry with figure erect the ear with its load of grain. Where, then, were all these things belonging to the grain before its dissolution in the soil? And yet this result sprang from that grain; if that grain had not existed first, the ear would not have arisen. Just, then, as the body of the ear comes to light out of the seed, God's artistic touch of power producing it all out of that single thing, and just as it is neither entirely the same thing as that seed nor something altogether different, so (she insisted) by these miracles performed on seeds you may now interpret the mystery of the Resurrection. The Divine power, in the superabundance of Omnipotence, does not only restore you that body once dissolved, but makes great and splendid additions to it, whereby the human being is furnished in a manner still more magnificent.

Paul says that the body is sown in corruption and raised in incorruption; it is sown in weakness and raised in power; it is sown in dishonor and raised in glory; it is sown a natural body and raised a spiritual body. When a grain of wheat dissolves in the soil, it leaves behind its small size and particular shape, yet it has not lost itself. Rather, it remains itself and grows into an ear of grain, though it has advanced beyond its former state in size, splendor, complexity, and form. In the same way, the human being deposits in death all those particular features it acquired from passionate desires—dishonor, corruption, weakness, and the marks of aging—yet the human being does not lose itself. It changes into an ear of grain, so to speak, becoming incorruption, glory, honor, power, and absolute perfection. It enters a condition where its life is no longer lived according to the ways of mere physis (nature), but has passed into a spiritual and passionless existence. The natural body's distinctive trait is to be always moving and flowing, always changing from its present state into something else. But none of these processes, which we observe not only in humans but also in plants and animals, will remain in the life to come. Furthermore, the Apostle's words seem to me to harmonize completely with our own understanding of the Resurrection. They point to the very same thing we have expressed in our definition, where we said that the Resurrection is nothing other than the reconstitution of our physis in its original form. In the account of the first creation, Scripture teaches us that first the earth brought forth green plants, and then from these plants came seed, which when scattered on the ground caused the same form of the original plant to spring up again. The Apostle declares that this very same thing happens in the Resurrection. From him we learn not only that our humanity will be changed into something nobler, but also that what we should expect is nothing other than what existed at the beginning. In the beginning, there was not an ear rising from a grain, but a grain coming from an ear, and after that the ear grew around the grain. The order shown in this comparison clearly demonstrates that all that blessed state which comes to us through the Resurrection is simply a return to our original state of grace. We too were once like a full ear. But the burning heat of sin withered us, and when death dissolved us, the earth received us. Yet in the spring of the Resurrection, the earth will reproduce this bare grain of our body in the form of an ear—tall, well-proportioned, and upright, reaching to the heights of heaven, and instead of blade and beard, shining in incorruption and with all the other godlike marks. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this incorruption, glory, honor, and power are those distinct and recognized marks of deity that once belonged to the one who was created in God's image, and which we hope for in the future. The first man Adam was the first ear. But with the arrival of evil, human physis was reduced to mere multitude. Like grain on an ear, each individual person was stripped of the beauty of that original ear and decayed in the soil. But in the Resurrection we are born again in our original splendor—only instead of that single original ear, we become countless myriads of ears in the grain fields. The virtuous life differs from the vicious life in this way: those who during their lives cultivated themselves through virtuous conduct are immediately revealed with all the qualities of a perfect ear. But those whose bare grain—that is, the forces of their natural soul—has become degenerate and hardened through evil habits, like weather-damaged seeds that experts call horn-struck, will experience great severity from their Judge in the Resurrection, because they do not possess the strength to grow into the full proportions of an ear and thereby become what we were before our earthly fall. The remedy the Overseer of the harvest offers is to gather together the weeds and thorns that grew up with the good seed. These took over all the secret forces that once nourished the seed's root, so that the seed not only remained without nourishment but was choked and made unproductive by this unnatural growth. When everything that opposes or counterfeits the nourishing element has been picked out and committed to the fire that consumes everything unnatural and has disappeared, then even in this group their humanity will flourish and ripen into fruit-bearing through such cultivation. After long ages they will eventually recover that universal form which God stamped on us at the beginning. Blessed indeed are those in whom the full beauty of those ears will develop as soon as they are born in the Resurrection. Yet we do not mean that there will be visible bodily distinctions between those who lived virtuously and those who lived viciously, as if we should think one will be imperfect in physical form while another achieves perfection in it. In this present world, a prisoner and a free person are exactly alike regarding the constitution of their bodies, though regarding enjoyment and suffering there is a wide gulf between them. This, I think, is how we should understand the difference between the good and the bad in that intervening time. The perfection of bodies raised from that sowing in death consists, as the Apostle tells us, in incorruption, glory, honor, and power. Any reduction in these qualities does not indicate a corresponding bodily mutilation in the one who has risen, but rather a withdrawal and estrangement from each of those things understood as belonging to the good. Since one or the other of these two completely opposed realities—good and evil—must attach to us in some way, it is clear that to say someone is not included in the good necessarily proves he is included in the evil. But in connection with evil we find no honor, no glory, no incorruption, no power. So we are forced to conclude without doubt that someone who has nothing to do with these qualities must be connected with their opposites—with weakness, dishonor, corruption, and everything of that nature, as we discussed earlier when we described how many passions sprung from evil are so difficult for the soul to eliminate once they have infused themselves into the very substance of its entire physis and become one with it. When such things have been purged from the soul and completely removed by the healing processes accomplished through the Fire, then all the things that make up our conception of the good will come to take their place—incorruption, life, honor, grace, glory, and everything else we believe is seen in God and in His image, man as he was made.

It is sown, he says, in corruption; it is raised in incorruption: it is sown in weakness; it is raised in power: it is sown in dishonour; it is raised in glory: it is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. The grain of wheat, after its dissolution in the soil, leaves behind the slightness of its bulk and the peculiar quality of its shape, and yet it has not left and lost itself, but, still self-centred, grows into the ear, though in many points it has made an advance upon itself, viz. in size, in splendour, in complexity, in form. In the same fashion the human being deposits in death all those peculiar surroundings which it has acquired from passionate propensities; dishonour, I mean, and corruption and weakness and characteristics of age; and yet the human being does not lose itself. It changes into an ear of grain as it were; into incorruption, that is, and glory and honour and power and absolute perfection; into a condition in which its life is no longer carried on in the ways peculiar to mere nature, but has passed into a spiritual and passionless existence. For it is the peculiarity of the natural body to be always moving on a stream, to be always altering from its state for the moment and changing into something else; but none of these processes, which we observe not in man only but also in plants and brutes will be found remaining in the life that shall be then. Further, it seems to me that the words of the Apostle in every respect harmonize with our own conception of what the Resurrection is. They indicate the very same thing that we have embodied in our own definition of it, wherein we said that the Resurrection is no other thing than the re-constitution of our nature in its original form. For, whereas we learn from Scripture in the account of the first Creation, that first the earth brought forth the green herb (as the narrative says), and that then from this plant seed was yielded, from which, when it was shed on the ground, the same form of the original plant again sprang up, the Apostle, it is to be observed, declares that this very same thing happens in the Resurrection also; and so we learn from him the fact, not only that our humanity will be then changed into something nobler, but also that what we have therein to expect is nothing else than that which was at the beginning. In the beginning, we see, it was not an ear rising from a grain, but a grain coming from an ear, and, after that, the ear grows round the grain: and so the order indicated in this similitude clearly shows that all that blessed state, which arises for us by means of the Resurrection is only a return to our pristine state of grace. We too, in fact, were once in a fashion a full ear; but the burning heat of sin withered us up, and then on our dissolution by death the earth received us: but in the spring of the Resurrection she will reproduce this naked grain of our body in the form of an ear, tall, well-proportioned, and erect, reaching to the heights of heaven, and, for blade and beard, resplendent in incorruption, and with all the other godlike marks. For this corruptible must put on incorruption; and this incorruption and glory and honour and power are those distinct and acknowledged marks of Deity which once belonged to him who was created in God's image, and which we hope for hereafter. The first man Adam, that is, was the first ear; but with the arrival of evil human nature was diminished into a mere multitude; and, as happens to the grain on the ear, each individual man was denuded of the beauty of that primal ear, and mouldered in the soil: but in the Resurrection we are born again in our original splendour; only instead of that single primitive ear we become the countless myriads of ears in the cornfields. The virtuous life as contrasted with that of vice is distinguished thus: those who while living have by virtuous conduct exercised husbandry on themselves are at once revealed in all the qualities of a perfect ear, while those whose bare grain (that is the forces of their natural soul) has become through evil habits degenerate, as it were, and hardened by the weather (as the so-called hornstruck seeds, according to the experts in such things, grow up), will, though they live again in the Resurrection, experience very great severity from their Judge, because they do not possess the strength to shoot up into the full proportions of an ear, and thereby become that which we were before our earthly fall. The remedy offered by the Overseer of the produce is to collect together the tares and the thorns, which have grown up with the good seed, and into whose bastard life all the secret forces that once nourished its root have passed, so that it not only has had to remain without its nutriment, but has been choked and so rendered unproductive by this unnatural growth. When from the nutritive part within them everything that is the reverse or the counterfeit of it has been picked out, and has been committed to the fire that consumes everything unnatural, and so has disappeared, then in this class also their humanity will thrive and will ripen into fruit-bearing, owing to such husbandry, and some day after long courses of ages will get back again that universal form which God stamped upon us at the beginning. Blessed are they, indeed, in whom the full beauty of those ears shall be developed directly they are born in the Resurrection. Yet we say this without implying that any merely bodily distinctions will be manifest between those who have lived virtuously and those who have lived viciously in this life, as if we ought to think that one will be imperfect as regards his material frame, while another will win perfection as regards it. The prisoner and the free, here in this present world, are just alike as regards the constitutions of their two bodies; though as regards enjoyment and suffering the gulf is wide between them. In this way, I take it, should we reckon the difference between the good and the bad in that intervening time. For the perfection of bodies that rise from that sowing of death is, as the Apostle tells us, to consist in incorruption and glory and honour and power; but any diminution in such excellences does not denote a corresponding bodily mutilation of him who has risen again, but a withdrawal and estrangement from each one of those things which are conceived of as belonging to the good. Seeing, then, that one or the other of these two diametrically opposed ideas, I mean good and evil, must any way attach to us, it is clear that to say a man is not included in the good is a necessary demonstration that he is included in the evil. But then, in connection with evil, we find no honour, no glory, no incorruption, no power; and so we are forced to dismiss all doubt that a man who has nothing to do with these last-mentioned things must be connected with their opposites, viz. with weakness, with dishonour, with corruption, with everything of that nature, such as we spoke of in the previous parts of the discussion, when we said how many were the passions, sprung from evil, which are so hard for the soul to get rid of, when they have infused themselves into the very substance of its entire nature and become one with it. When such, then, have been purged from it and utterly removed by the healing processes worked out by the Fire, then every one of the things which make up our conception of the good will come to take their place; incorruption, that is, and life, and honour, and grace, and glory, and everything else that we conjecture is to be seen in God, and in His Image, man as he was made.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every writer and pamphleteer will have you, most excellent sir, as a subject on which to display his eloquence. Your remarkable qualities will be a broad race-course where he may range freely. A noble and inspiring subject in capable hands does indeed have a way of producing a grander style, lifting it to the height of the great reality. We, however, like an aged horse, will remain outside this proposed race-course, only turning our ear to listen for the contest waged in celebrating your praises, if the sound of any literary chariot careering at full speed through such wonders may reach us. But though old age may compel a horse to remain away from the race, it may often happen that the noise of the trampling racers rouses him into excitement, that he lifts his head with eager looks, that he shows his spirit in his breathing, and prances and paws the ground frequently, though this eagerness is all that is left to him, and time has drained his powers of running. In the same way our pen remains outside the combat, and age compels it to yield the course to the writers who flourish now. Nevertheless its eagerness to join the contest about you survives, and that it can still show, even though these stylists who flourish now are at the height of their powers. But none of this display of my enthusiasm for you has anything to do with sounding your own praises. No style, however vigorous and well-balanced, would easily succeed there, so that anyone who attempted to describe that difficult yet harmonious mixture of opposites in your character would inevitably fall far short of your real worth. Nature, indeed, by throwing out the shade of the eyelashes before the glaring rays, brings to the eyes themselves a weaker light, and so the sunlight becomes tolerable to us, mingling as it does, in quantities proportionate to our need, with the shadows which the lashes cast. Just so the grandeur and greatness of your character, tempered by your modesty and humbleness of mind, instead of blinding the beholder's eye, makes the sight on the contrary a pleasurable one. In this your humbleness of mind does not cause the splendor of the greatness to be dimmed and its hidden force to be overlooked, but the one is to be noticed in the other: the humility of your character in its elevation, and the grandeur conversely in the lowliness. Others must describe all this and extol, besides, the many-sightedness of your mind. Your intellectual eyes are indeed as numerous, it may perhaps be said, as the hairs of the head. Their keen unerring gaze is on everything alike. The distant is foreseen; the near is not unnoticed. They do not wait for experience to teach what is expedient. They see with hope's insight, or else with that of memory. They scan the present all over, first on one thing, then on another, but without confusing them. Your mind works with the same energy and with the amount of attention that is required. Another, too, must record his admiration of the way in which poverty is made rich by you, if indeed anyone is to be found in this age of ours who will make that a subject of praise and wonder. Yet surely now, if never before, the love of poverty will through you abound, and your innate wealth will be envied above the gold bars of Croesus. For whom has sea and land, with all the bounty of their natural produce, enriched, as your rejection of worldly abundance has enriched you? People wipe the stain from steel and so make it shine like silver. So has the gleam of your life grown brighter, ever carefully cleansed from the rust of wealth. We leave that to those who can enlarge upon it, and also upon your excellent knowledge of the things in which it is more glorious to gain than to abstain from gain. Grant me, however, leave to say that you do not despise all acquisitions. That there are some which, though none of your predecessors has been able to grasp, yet you and you alone have seized with both your hands. For instead of dresses and slaves and money, you have and hold the very souls of men, and store them in the treasure-house of your love. The writers and pamphleteers, whose glory comes from such praises, will go into these matters. But our pen, veteran as it now is, is to rouse itself only so far as to go at a walking pace through the problem which your wisdom has proposed, namely this: what we are to think of those who are taken prematurely, the moment of whose birth almost coincides with that of their death. The cultured pagan Plato spoke, in the person of one who had come to life again, much philosophy about the judgment courts in that other world, but he has left this other question a mystery, as supposedly too great for human conjecture to be employed upon. If, then, there is anything in these reflections of ours that is of a nature to clear up the obscurities of this question, you will doubtless welcome the new account of it. If otherwise, you will at all events excuse this in old age and accept, if nothing else, our wish to afford you some degree of pleasure. History says that Xerxes, that great prince who had made almost every land under the sun into one vast camp and roused with his own designs the whole world, when he was marching against the Greeks received with delight a poor man's gift. And that gift was water, and that not in a jar, but carried in the hollow of the palm of his hand. So do you, of your innate generosity, follow his example. To him the will made the gift, and our gift may be found in itself but a poor watery thing. In the case of the wonders in the heavens, a man sees their beauty equally, whether he is trained to watch them or whether he gazes upwards with an unscientific eye, but the feeling towards them is not the same in the man who comes from philosophy to their contemplation and in him who has only his senses of perception to commit them to. The latter may be pleased with the sunlight, or deem the beauty of stars worthy of his wonder, or have watched the stages of the moon's course throughout the month. But the former, who has the soul-insight and whose training has enlightened him so as to comprehend the phenomena of the heavens, leaves unnoticed all these things which delight the senses of the more unthinking, and looks at the harmony of the whole, inspecting the concert which results even from opposite movements in the circular revolutions: how the inner circles of these turn the contrary way to that in which the fixed stars are carried round; how those of the heavenly bodies to be observed in these inner circles are variously grouped in their approaches and divergences, their disappearances behind each other and their flank movements, and yet effect always precisely in the same way that notable and never-ending harmony, of which those are conscious who do not overlook the position of the tiniest star and whose minds, by training dwelling above, pay equal attention to them all. In the same way do you, a precious life to me, watch the divine economy. Leaving those objects which unceasingly occupy the minds of the crowd—wealth, I mean, and luxury and vainglory, things which like sunbeams flashing in their faces dazzle the unthinking—you will not pass without inquiry the seemingly most trivial questions in the world. For you do most carefully scrutinize the inequalities in human lives, not only with regard to wealth and poverty and the differences of position and descent (for you know that they are as nothing and that they owe their existence not to any intrinsic reality but to the foolish estimate of those who are struck with nonentities as if they were actual things, and that if one were only to take away from somebody who glitters with glory the blind adoration of those who gaze at him, nothing would be left him after all the inflated pride which elates him, even though the whole mass of the world's riches were buried in his cellars), but it is one of your concerns to know, among the other intentions of each detail of the divine government, why it is that while the life of one is lengthened into old age, another has only so far a portion of it as to breathe the air with one gasp and die. If nothing in this world happens without God, but all is linked to the divine will, and if the Deity is skillful and providential, then it follows necessarily that there is some plan in these things bearing the mark of his wisdom and at the same time of his providential care. A blind meaningless occurrence can never be the work of God, for it is the property of God, as the Scripture says, to make all things in wisdom. What wisdom, then, can we trace in the following? A human being enters on the scene of life, draws in the air, beginning the process of living with a cry of pain, pays the tribute of a tear to nature, just tastes life's sorrows before any of its sweets have been his, before his feelings have gained any strength, still loose in all his joints, tender, soft, unformed; in a word, before he is even human (if the gift of reason is man's peculiarity and he has never had it in him). Such a one,

Every essayist and every pamphleteer will have you, most Excellent, to display his eloquence upon; your wondrous qualities will be a broad race-course wherein he may expatiate. A noble and suggestive subject in able hands has indeed a way of making a grander style, lifting it to the height of the great reality. We, however, like an aged horse, will remain outside this proposed race-course, only turning the ear to listen for the contest waged in celebrating your praises, if the sound of any literary car careering in full swing through such wonders may reach us. But though old age may compel a horse to remain away from the race, it may often happen that the din of the trampling racers rouses him into excitement, that he lifts his head with eager looks, that he shows his spirit in his breathings, and prances and paws the ground frequently, though this eagerness is all that is left to him, and time has sapped his powers of going. In the same way our pen remains outside the combat, and age compels it to yield the course to the professors who flourish now; nevertheless its eagerness to join the contest about you survives, and that it can still evince, even though these stylists who flourish now are at the height of their powers. But none of this display of my enthusiasm for you has anything to do with sounding your own praises: no style, however nervous and well-balanced, would easily succeed there; so that any one, who attempted to describe that embarrassing yet harmonious mixture of opposites in your character, would inevitably be left far behind your real worth. Nature, indeed, by throwing out the shade of the eyelashes before the glaring rays, brings to the eyes themselves a weaker light, and so the sunlight becomes tolerable to us, mingling as it does, in quantities proportionate to our need, with the shadows which the lashes cast. Just so the grandeur and the greatness of your character, tempered by your modesty and humbleness of mind, instead of blinding the beholder's eye, makes the sight on the contrary a pleasurable one; wherein this humbleness of mind does not occasion the splendour of the greatness to be dimmed, and its latent force to be overlooked; but the one is to be noticed in the other, the humility of your character in its elevation, and the grandeur reversely in the lowliness. Others must describe all this; and extol, besides, the many-sightedness of your mind. Your intellectual eyes are indeed as numerous, it may perhaps be said, as the hairs of the head; their keen unerring gaze is on everything alike; the distant is foreseen; the near is not unnoticed; they do not wait for experience to teach expedience; they see with Hope's insight, or else with that of Memory; they scan the present all over; first on one thing, then on another, but without confusing them, your mind works with the same energy and with the amount of attention that is required. Another, too, must record his admiration of the way in which poverty is made rich by you; if indeed any one is to be found in this age of ours who will make that a subject of praise and wonder. Yet surely now, if never before, the love of poverty will through you abound, and your ingotten wealth will be envied above the ingots of Crœsus. For whom has sea and land, with all the dower of their natural produce, enriched, as your rejection of worldly abundance has enriched you? They wipe the stain from steel and so make it shine like silver: so has the gleam of your life grown brighter, ever carefully cleansed from the rust of wealth. We leave that to those who can enlarge upon it, and also upon your excellent knowledge of the things in which it is more glorious to gain than to abstain from gain. Grant me, however, leave to say, that you do not despise all acquisitions; that there are some which, though none of your predecessors has been able to clutch, yet you and you alone have seized with both your hands; for, instead of dresses and slaves and money, you have and hold the very souls of men, and store them in the treasure-house of your love. The essayists and pamphleteers, whose glory comes from such laudations, will go into these matters. But our pen, veteran as it now is, is to rouse itself only so far as to go at a foot's pace through the problem which your wisdom has proposed; namely, this — what we are to think of those who are taken prematurely, the moment of whose birth almost coincides with that of their death. The cultured heathen Plato spoke, in the person of one who had come to life again, much philosophy about the judgment courts in that other world; but he has left this other question a mystery, as ostensibly too great for human conjecture to be employed upon. If, then, there is anything in these lucubrations of ours that is of a nature to clear up the obscurities of this question, you will doubtless welcome the new account of it; if otherwise, you will at all events excuse this in old age, and accept, if nothing else, our wish to afford you some degree of pleasure. History says that Xerxes, that great prince who had made almost every land under the sun into one vast camp, and roused with his own designs the whole world, when he was marching against the Greeks received with delight a poor man's gift; and that gift was water, and that not in a jar, but carried in the hollow of the palm of his hand. So do you, of your innate generosity, follow his example; to him the will made the gift, and our gift may be found in itself but a poor watery thing. In the case of the wonders in the heavens, a man sees their beauty equally, whether he is trained to watch them, or whether he gazes upwards with an unscientific eye; but the feeling towards them is not the same in the man who comes from philosophy to their contemplation, and in him who has only his senses of perception to commit them to; the latter may be pleased with the sunlight, or deem the beauty of stars worthy of his wonder, or have watched the stages of the moon's course throughout the month; but the former, who has the soul-insight, and whose training has enlightened him so as to comprehend the phenomena of the heavens, leaves unnoticed all these things which delight the senses of the more unthinking, and looks at the harmony of the whole, inspecting the concert which results even from opposite movements in the circular revolutions; how the inner circles of these turn the contrary way to that in which the fixed stars are carried round; how those of the heavenly bodies to be observed in these inner circles are variously grouped in their approachments and divergements, their disappearances behind each other and their flank movements, and yet effect always precisely in the same way that notable and never-ending harmony; of which those are conscious who do not overlook the position of the tiniest star, and whose minds, by training domiciled above, pay equal attention to them all. In the same way do you, a precious life to me, watch the Divine economy; leaving those objects which unceasingly occupy the minds of the crowd, wealth, I mean, and luxury and vainglory — things which like sunbeams flashing in their faces dazzle the unthinking — you will not pass without inquiry the seemingly most trivial questions in the world; for you do most carefully scrutinize the inequalities in human lives; not only with regard to wealth and penury, and the differences of position and descent (for you know that they are as nothing, and that they owe their existence not to any intrinsic reality, but to the foolish estimate of those who are struck with nonentities, as if they were actual things; and that if one were only to abstract from somebody who glitters with glory the blind adoration of those who gaze at him, nothing would be left him after all the inflated pride which elates him, even though the whole mass of the world's riches were buried in his cellars), but it is one of your anxieties to know, among the other intentions of each detail of the Divine government, wherefore it is that, while the life of one is lengthened into old age, another has only so far a portion of it as to breathe the air with one gasp, and die. If nothing in this world happens without God, but all is linked to the Divine will, and if the Deity is skilful and prudential, then it follows necessarily that there is some plan in these things bearing the mark of His wisdom, and at the same time of His providential care. A blind unmeaning occurrence can never be the work of God; for it is the property of God, as the Scripture says, to make all things in wisdom. What wisdom, then, can we trace in the following? A human being enters on the scene of life, draws in the air, beginning the process of living with a cry of pain, pays the tribute of a tear to Nature, just tastes life's sorrows, before any of its sweets have been his, before his feelings have gained any strength; still loose in all his joints, tender, pulpy, unset; in a word, before he is even human (if the gift of reason is man's peculiarity, and he has never had it in him), such an one, with no advantage over the embryo in the womb except that he has seen the air, so short-lived, dies and goes to pieces again; being either exposed or suffocated, or else of his own accord ceasing to live from weakness. What are we to think about him? How are we to feel about such deaths? Will a soul such as that behold its Judge? Will it stand with the rest before the tribunal? Will it undergo its trial for deeds done in life? Will it receive the just recompense by being purged, according to the Gospel utterances, in fire, or refreshed with the dew of blessing? But I do not see how we can imagine that, in the case of such a soul. The word retribution implies that something must have been previously given; but he who has not lived at all has been deprived of the material from which to give anything. There being, then, no retribution, there is neither good nor evil left to expect. Retribution purports to be the paying back of one of these two qualities; but that which is to be found neither in the category of good nor that of bad is in no category at all; for this antithesis between good and bad is an opposition that admits no middle; and neither will come to him who has not made a beginning with either of them. What therefore falls under neither of these heads may be said not even to have existed. But if some one says that such a life does not only exist, but exists as one of the good ones, and that God gives, though He does not repay, what is good to such, we may ask what sort of reason he advances for this partiality; how is justice apparent in such a view; how will he prove his idea in concordance with the utterances in the Gospels? There (the Master) says, the acquisition of the Kingdom comes to those who are deemed worthy of it, as a matter of exchange. When you have done such and such things, then it is right that you get the Kingdom as a reward. But in this case there is no act of doing or of willing beforehand, and so what occasion is there for saying that these will receive from God any expected recompense? If one unreservedly accepts a statement such as that, to the effect that any so passing into life will necessarily be classed among the good, it will dawn upon him then that not partaking in life at all will be a happier state than living, seeing that in the one case the enjoyment of good is placed beyond a doubt even with barbarian parentage, or a conception from a union not legitimate; but he who has lived the span ordinarily possible to Nature gets the pollution of evil necessarily mingled more or less with his life, or, if he is to be quite outside this contagion, it will be at the price of much painful effort. For virtue is achieved by its seekers not without a struggle; nor is abstinence from the paths of pleasure a painless process to human nature. So that one of two probations must be the inevitable fate of him who has had the longer lease of life; either to combat here on Virtue's toilsome field, or to suffer there the painful recompense of a life of evil. But in the case of infants prematurely dying there is nothing of that sort; but they pass to the blessed lot at once, if those who take this view of the matter speak true. It follows also necessarily from this that a state of unreason is preferable to having reason, and virtue will thereby be revealed as of no value: if he who has never possessed it suffers no loss, so, as regards the enjoyment of blessedness, the labour to acquire it will be useless folly; the unthinking condition will be the one that comes out best from God's judgment. For these and such-like reasons you bid me sift the matter, with a view to our getting, by dint of a closely-reasoned inquiry, some firm ground on which to rest our thoughts about it.

For my part, considering how difficult this subject is, I think the Apostle's exclamation fits our present situation perfectly, just as he spoke it regarding unfathomable questions: O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out! For who has known the mind of the Lord? But on the other hand, that same Apostle says it is a special quality of the spiritual person to judge all things, and he commends those whom divine grace has enriched in all speech and in all knowledge. So I dare to say that we should not skip over what we can examine within our ability, nor leave this question unexamined without making any inquiry or forming any thoughts about it. Otherwise, like the very subject we're discussing, this essay would end ineffectively, spoiled before it reaches maturity by the deadly laziness of those who won't push themselves to search out the truth—like a newborn infant before it sees light and gains any strength. I also say that we shouldn't immediately confront and answer objections as if we were arguing in court, but should bring a certain order to the discussion and lead the reader from one point to another. What should this order be? First, we need to know where human nature comes from and why it ever came into existence. If we find the answer to these questions, we won't fail to get the explanation we need. Now, that everything existing after God, whether in the intellectual or sensible world, owes its existence to Him is a claim we don't need to prove; no one with even a little insight into truth would deny it. For everyone agrees that the universe is connected to one First Cause, that nothing in it exists because of itself so as to be its own origin and cause, but that there is instead a single uncreated eternal Essence, always the same, which transcends all our ideas of distance, conceived as without increase or decrease, and beyond the scope of any definition. And time and space with all their consequences, and anything before these that thought can grasp in the intelligible world beyond the universe, are all the productions of this Essence. Well then, we affirm that human nature is one of these productions. A word from inspired Scripture helps us here, declaring that when God had brought everything else into life, man was displayed upon the earth—a mixture from divine sources, the godlike intellectual essence being united in him with the various portions of earthly elements that contributed to his formation—and that he was fashioned by his Maker to be the incarnate likeness of divine transcendent Power. But it would be better to quote the exact words: And God created man, in the image of God created He him. Now certain writers before us have given the reason for the making of this living being as follows. The whole creation is divided into two parts: that which is seen and that which is not seen, to use the Apostle's words (the second meaning the intelligible and immaterial, the first the sensible and material). Being thus divided, the angelic and spiritual natures, which are among the things not seen, live in places above the world and above the heavens, because such a dwelling corresponds to their constitution. For an intellectual nature is a fine, clear, unencumbered, agile kind of thing, and a heavenly body is fine and light and perpetually moving, while the earth, by contrast, which stands last in the list of sensible things, could never be an adequate and suitable place for intellectual creatures to live. For what correspondence could there possibly be between what is light and buoyant on one hand and what is heavy and gravitating on the other? Well, so that the earth would not be completely lacking the local presence of the intellectual and the immaterial, man (these writers tell us) was fashioned by the Supreme forethought, and his earthy parts were molded over the intellectual and godlike essence of his soul. And so this combination with what has material weight enables the soul to live on this element of earth, which has a certain bond of kinship with the substance of the flesh. The purpose of everything being born, then, is that the Power above both the heavenly and earthly universe may be glorified in all parts of creation by means of intellectual natures working together toward the same end by virtue of the same faculty operating in all—I mean that of looking upon God. But this operation of looking upon God is nothing less than the life-nourishment appropriate, as like to like, to an intellectual nature. For just as these bodies, earthy as they are, are preserved by nourishment that is earthy, and we detect in all of them alike, whether brute or reasoning, the operations of a material kind of vitality, so it's right to assume that there is an intellectual life-nourishment as well by which such natures are maintained in existence. But if bodily food, coming and going as it does in circulation, nevertheless gives a certain amount of vital energy to those who receive it, how much more does partaking of the real thing, always remaining and always the same, preserve the one who partakes in existence? If, then, this is the life-nourishment of an intellectual nature—namely, to have a part in God—this part will not be gained by what is of an opposite quality. The would-be partaker must to some degree be akin to what is to be partaken of. The eye enjoys the light by having light within itself to seize its kindred light, and the finger or any other limb cannot accomplish the act of vision because none of this natural light is organized in any of them. The same necessity requires that in our partaking of God there should be some kinship in the constitution of the partaker with what is partaken of. Therefore, as Scripture says, man was made in the image of God, so that like, I take it, might be able to see like. And to see God is, as was said above, the life of the soul. But seeing that ignorance of the true good is like a mist that obscures the visual keenness of the soul, and that when that mist grows denser a cloud forms so thick that Truth's ray cannot pierce through these depths of ignorance, it follows further that with the total loss of the light the soul's life ceases altogether. For we have said that the real life of the soul is lived out in partaking of the Good. But when ignorance prevents this apprehension of God, the soul which thus ceases to partake of God also ceases to live. But no one can force us to give the family history of this ignorance, asking where it comes from and from what father. Let him understand from the word itself that ignorance and knowledge indicate one of the relations of the soul. But no relation, whether expressed or not, conveys the idea of substance; a relation and a substance are quite different descriptions. If, then, knowledge is not a substance but a perfected operation of the soul, it must be conceded that ignorance must be even farther removed still from anything in the way of substance. But what is not in that way does not exist at all, and so it would be useless to trouble ourselves about where it comes from. Now seeing that the Word declares that living in God is the life of the soul, and seeing that this living is knowledge according to each person's ability, and that ignorance does not imply the reality of anything but is only the negation of the operation of knowing, and seeing that when this partaking in God is no longer accomplished there follows at once the canceling of the soul's life, which is the worst of evils—because of all this the Producer of all Good would work in us the cure of such an evil. A cure is a good thing, but one who does not look to the evangelic mystery would still be ignorant of the manner of the cure. We have shown that alienation from God, who is the Life, is an evil. The cure of this illness, then, is to be made friends with God again and so to be in life once more. When such a life, then, is always held up in hope before humanity, it cannot be said that winning this life is absolutely a reward for a good life and that the contrary is a punishment for a bad one. Rather, what we're saying resembles the case of the eyes. We don't say that one who has clear eyesight is rewarded as with a prize by being able to perceive visible objects, nor on the other hand that one who has diseased eyes experiences a failure of optic activity as the result of some penal sentence. With the eye in a natural state, sight necessarily follows; with it damaged by disease, failure of sight necessarily follows. In the same way, the life of blessedness is like a familiar second nature to those who have kept clear the senses of the soul. But when the blinding stream of ignorance prevents our partaking in the real light, then it necessarily follows that we miss that whose enjoyment we declare to be the life of the partaker.

For my part, in view of the difficulties of the subject proposed, I think the exclamation of the Apostle very suitable to the present case, just as he uttered it over unfathomable questions: O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out! For who has known the mind of the Lord Romans 11:33-34? But seeing on the other hand that that Apostle declares it to be a peculiarity of him that is spiritual to judge all things 1 Corinthians 2:15, and commends those who have been enriched 1 Corinthians 1:5 by the Divine grace in all utterance and in all knowledge, I venture to assert that it is not right to omit the examination which is within the range of our ability, nor to leave the question here raised without making any inquiries, or having any ideas about it; lest, like the actual subject of our proposed discussion, this essay should have an ineffectual ending, spoilt before its maturity by the fatal indolence of those who will not nerve themselves to search out the truth, like a new-born infant ere it sees the light and acquires any strength. I assert, too, that it is not well at once to confront and meet objections, as if we were pleading in court, but to introduce a certain order into the discussion and to lead the view on from one point to another. What, then, should this order be? First, we want to know the whence of human nature, and the wherefore of its ever having come into existence. If we hit the answer to these questions, we shall not fail in getting the required explanation. Now, that everything that exists, after God, in the intellectual or sensible world of beings owes that existence to Him, is a proposition which it is superfluous to prove; no one, with however little insight into the truth of things, would gainsay it. For every one agrees that the Universe is linked to one First Cause; that nothing in it owes its existence to itself, so as to be its own origin and cause; but that there is on the other hand a single uncreate eternal Essence, the same for ever, which transcends all our ideas of distance, conceived of as without increase or decrease, and beyond the scope of any definition; and that time and space with all their consequences, and anything previous to these that thought can grasp in the intelligible supramundane world, are all the productions of this Essence. Well, then, we affirm that human nature is one of these productions; and a word of the inspired Teaching helps us in this, which declares that when God had brought all things else upon the scene of life, man was exhibited upon the earth, a mixture from Divine sources, the godlike intellectual essence being in him united with the several portions of earthly elements contributed towards his formation, and that he was fashioned by his Maker to be the incarnate likeness of Divine transcendent Power. It would be better however to quote the very words: And God created man, in the image of God created He him Genesis 1:27. Now the reason of the making of this animate being has been given by certain writers previous to us as follows. The whole creation is divided into two parts; that which is seen, and that which is not seen, to use the Apostle's words (the second meaning the intelligible and immaterial, the first, the sensible and material); and being thus divided, the angelic and spiritual natures, which are among the things not seen, reside in places above the world, and above the heavens, because such a residence is in correspondence with their constitution; for an intellectual nature is a fine, clear, unencumbered, agile kind of thing, and a heavenly body is fine and light, and perpetually moving, and the earth on the contrary, which stands last in the list of things sensible, can never be an adequate and congenial spot for creatures intellectual to sojourn in. For what correspondence can there possibly be between that which is light and buoyant, on the one hand, and that which is heavy and gravitating on the other? Well, in order that the earth may not be completely devoid of the local indwelling of the intellectual and the immaterial, man (these writers tell us) was fashioned by the Supreme forethought, and his earthy parts moulded over the intellectual and godlike essence of his soul; and so this amalgamation with that which has material weight enables the soul to live on this element of earth, which possesses a certain bond of kindred with the substance of the flesh. The design of all that is being born, then, is that the Power which is above both the heavenly and the earthly universe may in all parts of the creation be glorified by means of intellectual natures, conspiring to the same end by virtue of the same faculty in operation in all, I mean that of looking upon God. But this operation of looking upon God is nothing less than the life-nourishment appropriate, as like to like, to an intellectual nature. For just as these bodies, earthy as they are, are preserved by nourishment that is earthy, and we detect in them all alike, whether brute or reasoning, the operations of a material kind of vitality, so it is right to assume that there is an intellectual life-nourishment as well, by which such natures are maintained in existence. But if bodily food, coming and going as it does in circulation, nevertheless imparts a certain amount of vital energy to those who get it, how much more does the partaking of the real thing, always remaining and always the same, preserve the eater in existence? If, then, this is the life-nourishment of an intellectual nature, namely, to have a part in God, this part will not be gained by that which is of an opposite quality; the would-be partaker must in some degree be akin to that which is to be partaken of. The eye enjoys the light by virtue of having light within itself to seize its kindred light, and the finger or any other limb cannot effect the act of vision because none of this natural light is organized in any of them. The same necessity requires that in our partaking of God there should be some kinship in the constitution of the partaker with that which is partaken of. Therefore, as the Scripture says, man was made in the image of God; that like, I take it, might be able to see like; and to see God is, as was said above, the life of the soul. But seeing that ignorance of the true good is like a mist that obscures the visual keenness of the soul, and that when that mist grows denser a cloud is formed so thick that Truth's ray cannot pierce through these depths of ignorance, it follows further that with the total deprivation of the light the soul's life ceases altogether; for we have said that the real life of the soul is acted out in partaking of the Good; but when ignorance hinders this apprehension of God, the soul which thus ceases to partake of God, ceases also to live. But no one can force us to give the family history of this ignorance, asking whence and from what father it is; let him be given to understand from the word itself that ignorance and knowledge indicate one of the relations of the soul; but no relation, whether expressed or not, conveys the idea of substance; a relation and a substance are quite of different descriptions. If, then, knowledge is not a substance, but a perfected operation of the soul, it must be conceded that ignorance must be much farther removed still from anything in the way of substance; but that which is not in that way does not exist at all; and so it would be useless to trouble ourselves about where it comes from. Now seeing that the Word declares that the living in God is the life of the soul, and seeing that this living is knowledge according to each man's ability, and that ignorance does not imply the reality of anything, but is only the negation of the operation of knowing, and seeing that upon this partaking in God being no longer effected there follows at once the cancelling of the soul's life, which is the worst of evils — because of all this the Producer of all Good would work in us the cure of such an evil. A cure is a good thing, but one who does not look to the evangelic mystery would still be ignorant of the manner of the cure. We have shown that alienation from God, Who is the Life, is an evil; the cure, then, of this infirmity is, again to be made friends with God, and so to be in life once more. When such a life, then, is always held up in hope before humanity, it cannot be said that the winning of this life is absolutely a reward of a good life, and that the contrary is a punishment (of a bad one); but what we insist on resembles the case of the eyes. We do not say that one who has clear eyesight is rewarded as with a prize by being able to perceive the objects of sight; nor on the other hand that he who has diseased eyes experiences a failure of optic activity as the result of some penal sentence. With the eye in a natural state sight follows necessarily; with it vitiated by disease failure of sight as necessarily follows. In the same way the life of blessedness is as a familiar second nature to those who have kept clear the senses of the soul; but when the blinding stream of ignorance prevents our partaking in the real light, then it necessarily follows that we miss that, the enjoyment of which we declare to be the life of the partaker.

Now that we have established these foundations, it is time to examine the question put to us in light of them. The question goes something like this: If the reward of blessedness is given according to justice, where shall we place someone who died in infancy without having established in this life any foundation, good or bad, by which any return according to merit might be given? To this we shall answer, keeping in mind what we have already established, that this future happiness, while it is essentially the inheritance of humanity, may at the same time be called in one sense a reward. We will explain what we mean using the same illustration as before. Let us imagine two people suffering from an eye disease. One submits very diligently to the process of being cured and undergoes all that medicine can apply, however painful it may be. The other indulges without restraint in baths and wine-drinking and listens to none of his doctor's advice about healing his eyes. When we look at the outcome for each person, we say that each properly receives in return the fruits of his choice—one being deprived of light, the other enjoying it. By a misuse of the word, we actually call that which necessarily follows a reward. We may speak in this same way regarding the question of infants. We may say that the enjoyment of that future life does indeed belong by right to human beings, but since the plague of ignorance has seized almost all who now live in the flesh, the person who has purged himself of it through the necessary courses of treatment receives the due reward of his diligence when he enters the life that is truly natural. Meanwhile, the person who refuses Virtue's purgatives and makes that plague of ignorance difficult to cure in his case through the pleasures that have trapped him, puts himself into an unnatural state and so is estranged from the truly natural life and has no share in the existence that rightfully belongs to us and is suited to us. By contrast, the innocent baby has no such plague before its soul's eyes obscuring its portion of light, and so it continues to exist in that natural life. It does not need the soundness that comes from purgation, because it never admitted the plague into its soul at all. Furthermore, the present life seems to me to offer a kind of analogy to the future life we hope for and to be closely connected with it in this way: the tenderest infancy is nursed and raised with milk from the breast, then another kind of food appropriate to the one being nourished and closely adapted to his needs follows, until at last he reaches full growth. And so I think, in quantities continually adapted to it, in a kind of regular progression, the soul partakes of that truly natural life. According to its capacity and power, it receives a measure of the delights of the blessed state. Indeed, we learn as much from Paul, who had different kinds of food for the person already grown in virtue and for the immature babe. For to the latter he says, "I have fed you with milk, and not with meat, for you were not yet able to bear it." But to those who have grown to the full measure of intellectual maturity he says, "But strong meat belongs to those who are of full age, even those who by reason of use have their senses exercised." Now it is not right to say that the man and the infant are in a similar state, however free both may be from any contact with disease—for how can those who do not partake of exactly the same things be in an equal state of enjoyment? On the contrary, though the absence of affliction from disease may be said of both alike as long as both are beyond its reach, yet when we come to the matter of delights, there is no likeness in the enjoyment, though those perceiving them are in the same condition. For the man there is a natural delight in discussions, in the management of affairs, in the honorable discharge of the duties of an office, in being distinguished for acts of help to the needy, in living perhaps with a wife whom he loves and ruling his household, and in all those amusements to be found in this life as pastime—in musical pieces and theatrical spectacles, in hunting, in bathing, in gymnastics, in the merriment of banquets, and anything else of that sort. For the infant, on the contrary, there is a natural delight in its milk, in its nurse's arms, and in gentle rocking that induces and then sweetens its sleep. Any happiness beyond this the tenderness of its years naturally prevents it from feeling. In the same way, those who in their life here have nourished the forces of their souls through a course of virtue and have, to use the Apostle's words, had the senses of their minds exercised, will, if they are transferred to that life beyond which is outside the body, participate in that divine delight proportionately to the condition and powers they have attained. They will have more or less of its riches according to the capacity acquired. But the soul that has never felt the taste of virtue, while it may indeed remain perfectly free from the sufferings that flow from wickedness, having never caught the disease of evil at all, nevertheless at first partakes only so far in that life beyond—which consists, according to our previous definition, in knowing and being in God—as this nursling can receive, until the time comes that it has thrived on the contemplation of the truly Existent as on a suitable diet and, becoming capable of receiving more, takes at will more from that abundant supply of the truly Existent which is offered.

Now that we have laid down these premisses, it is time to examine in the light of them the question proposed to us. It was somewhat of this kind. If the recompense of blessedness is assigned according to the principles of justice, in what class shall he be placed who has died in infancy without having laid in this life any foundation, good or bad, whereby any return according to his deserts may be given him? To this we shall make answer, with our eye fixed upon the consequences of that which we have already laid down, that this happiness in the future, while it is in its essence a heritage of humanity, may at the same time be called in one sense a recompense; and we will make clear our meaning by the same instance as before. Let us suppose two persons suffering from an affection of the eyes; and that the one surrenders himself most diligently to the process of being cured, and undergoes all that Medicine can apply to him, however painful it may be; and that the other indulges without restraint in baths and wine-drinking, and listens to no advice whatever of his doctor as to the healing of his eyes. Well, when we look to the end of each of these we say that each duly receives in requital the fruits of his choice, the one in deprivation of the light, the other in its enjoyment; by a misuse of the word we do actually call that which necessarily follows, a recompense. We may speak, then, in this way also as regards this question of the infants: we may say that the enjoyment of that future life does indeed belong of right to the human being, but that, seeing the plague of ignorance has seized almost all now living in the flesh, he who has purged himself of it by means of the necessary courses of treatment receives the due reward of his diligence, when he enters on the life that is truly natural; while he who refuses Virtue's purgatives and renders that plague of ignorance, through the pleasures he has been entrapped by, difficult in his case to cure, gets himself into an unnatural state, and so is estranged from the truly natural life, and has no share in the existence which of right belongs to us and is congenial to us. Whereas the innocent babe has no such plague before its soul's eyes obscuring its measure of light, and so it continues to exist in that natural life; it does not need the soundness which comes from purgation, because it never admitted the plague into its soul at all. Further, the present life appears to me to offer a sort of analogy to the future life we hope for, and to be intimately connected with it, thus; the tenderest infancy is suckled and reared with milk from the breast; then another sort of food appropriate to the subject of this fostering, and intimately adapted to his needs, succeeds, until at last he arrives at full growth. And so I think, in quantities continually adapted to it, in a sort of regular progress, the soul partakes of that truly natural life; according to its capacity and its power it receives a measure of the delights of the Blessed state; indeed we learn as much from Paul, who had a different sort of food for him who was already grown in virtue and for the imperfect babe. For to the last he says, I have fed you with milk, and not with meat: for hitherto you were not able to bear it 2 Corinthians 3:2. But to those who have grown to the full measure of intellectual maturity he says, But strong meat belongs to those that are of full age, even those who by reason of use have their senses exercised… Hebrews 5:14 Now it is not right to say that the man and the infant are in a similar state however free both may be from any contact of disease (for how can those who do not partake of exactly the same things be in an equal state of enjoyment?); on the contrary, though the absence of any affliction from disease may be predicated of both alike as long as both are out of the reach of its influence, yet, when we come to the matter of delights, there is no likeness in the enjoyment, though the percipients are in the same condition. For the man there is a natural delight in discussions, and in the management of affairs, and in the honourable discharge of the duties of an office, and in being distinguished for acts of help to the needy; in living, it may be, with a wife whom he loves, and ruling his household; and in all those amusements to be found in this life in the way of pastime, in musical pieces and theatrical spectacles, in the chase, in bathing, in gymnastics, in the mirth of banquets, and anything else of that sort. For the infant, on the contrary, there is a natural delight in its milk, and in its nurse's arms, and in gentle rocking that induces and then sweetens its slumber. Any happiness beyond this the tenderness of its years naturally prevents it from feeling. In the same manner those who in their life here have nourished the forces of their souls by a course of virtue, and have, to use the Apostle's words, had the senses of their minds exercised, will, if they are translated to that life beyond, which is out of the body, proportionately to the condition and the powers they have attained participate in that divine delight; they will have more or they will have less of its riches according to the capacity acquired. But the soul that has never felt the taste of virtue, while it may indeed remain perfectly free from the sufferings which flow from wickedness having never caught the disease of evil at all, does nevertheless in the first instance partake only so far in that life beyond (which consists, according to our previous definition, in the knowing and being in God) as this nursling can receive; until the time comes that it has thriven on the contemplation of the truly Existent as on a congenial diet, and, becoming capable of receiving more, takes at will more from that abundant supply of the truly Existent which is offered.

With all these considerations in mind, we believe that the soul of someone who has reached every virtue in his life and the soul of someone whose portion of life has been nothing at all are equally beyond the reach of those sufferings that flow from wickedness. Nevertheless, we do not think that the way they used their lives is at all on the same level. The first person has heard those heavenly announcements through which, in the words of the Prophet, the glory of God is declared, and by traveling through creation has been led to understand that there is a Master of creation. He has taken true Wisdom for his teacher—that Wisdom which the spectacle of the universe suggests. When he observed the beauty of this material sunlight, he grasped by analogy the beauty of the real sunlight. He saw in the solid firmness of this earth the unchangeableness of its Creator. When he perceived the vastness of the heavens, he was led on the road toward the vast infinity of that Power which encompasses the universe. When he saw the rays of the sun reaching from such heights even down to us, he began to believe, through such phenomena, that the activities of the Divine Intelligence do not fail to descend from the heights of Deity even to each one of us. For if a single light can fill everything beneath it equally with the force of light, and moreover can lend itself to all who can use it while still remaining self-centered and undissipated, how much more shall the Creator of that light become all in all, as the Apostle says, and come into each person with as much of Himself as each subject of His influence can receive! Indeed, look only at an ear of grain, at the sprouting of some plant, at a ripe bunch of grapes, at the beauty of early autumn whether in fruit or flower, at the grass springing up unbidden, at the mountain reaching up with its summit to the height of the ether, at the springs on its slopes bursting from those swelling breasts and running in rivers through the valleys, at the sea receiving those streams from every direction and yet remaining within its limits, with waves edged by the stretches of beach and never stepping beyond those fixed boundaries of continent. Look at these and similar sights, and how can the eye of reason fail to find in them all that our education for Realities requires? Has a person who looks at such spectacles gained for himself only a slight ability to enjoy those delights beyond? Not to mention the studies that sharpen the mind toward moral excellence—geometry, I mean, and astronomy, and the knowledge of truth that the science of numbers gives, and every method that furnishes proof of the unknown and conviction of the known—and before all these, the philosophy contained in the inspired Writings, which provides complete purification to those who educate themselves thereby in the mysteries of God. But the person who has acquired knowledge of none of these things and has not even been led by the material cosmos to perceive the beauties above it, and passes through life with his mind in a kind of tender, unformed, and untrained state—he is not the kind of person who is likely to be placed in the same surroundings as our argument has indicated that other person, already mentioned, to be placed. So in this view, it can no longer be maintained that in the two hypothetical and completely opposite cases, the one who has taken no part in life is more blessed than the one who has taken a noble part in it. Certainly, in comparison with one who has lived all his life in sin, not only the innocent baby but even one who has never come into the world at all will be blessed. We learn as much in the case of Judas from the sentence pronounced upon him in the Gospels—namely, that when we think of such people, that which never existed is to be preferred to that which has existed in such sin. For as to the latter, because of the depth of the ingrained evil, the chastisement by way of purification will be extended into infinity. But as for what has never existed, how can any torment touch it? However, despite that, the person who makes a comparison between the infantile immature life and that of perfect virtue must himself be pronounced immature for judging realities in this way. Do you, then, because of this, ask the reason why this or that person, quite young in age, is quietly taken away from among the living? Do you ask what the Divine wisdom contemplates in this? Well, if you are thinking of all those infants who are the result of illicit sexual relationships and are therefore killed by their parents, you are not justified in holding God accountable for such wickedness—God who will surely bring to judgment the unholy deeds done in this way. On the other hand, in the case of any infant who, though his parents have nurtured him and have spent earnest care upon him with nursing and supplication, nevertheless does not continue in this world but dies from a sickness which is unmistakably the sole cause of it, we suggest the following considerations. It is a sign of the perfection of God's providence that He not only heals sicknesses that have come into existence, but also provides that some people should never be mixed up at all in the things which He has forbidden. It is reasonable, that is, to expect that He who knows the future as well as the past should stop the advance of an infant to complete maturity in order that the evil may not be developed which His foreknowledge has detected in his future life, and in order that a lifetime granted to one whose evil dispositions will be lifelong may not become the actual material for his vice. We shall better explain what we are thinking of by an illustration.

Having, then, all these considerations in our view, we hold that the soul of him who has reached every virtue in his course, and the soul of him whose portion of life has been simply nothing, are equally out of the reach of those sufferings which flow from wickedness. Nevertheless we do not conceive of the employment of their lives as on the same level at all. The one has heard those heavenly announcements, by which, in the words of the Prophet, the glory of God is declared, and, travelling through creation, has been led to the apprehension of a Master of the creation; he has taken the true Wisdom for his teacher, that Wisdom which the spectacle of the Universe suggests; and when he observed the beauty of this material sunlight he had grasped by analogy the beauty of the real sunlight; he saw in the solid firmness of this earth the unchangeableness of its Creator; when he perceived the immensity of the heavens he was led on the road towards the vast Infinity of that Power which encompasses the Universe; when he saw the rays of the sun reaching from such sublimities even to ourselves he began to believe, by the means of such phenomena, that the activities of the Divine Intelligence did not fail to descend from the heights of Deity even to each one of us; for if a single luminary can occupy everything alike that lies beneath it with the force of light, and, more than that, can, while lending itself to all who can use it, still remain self-centred and undissipated, how much more shall the Creator of that luminary become all in all, as the Apostle speaks, and come into each with such a measure of Himself as each subject of His influence can receive! Nay, look only at an ear of grain, at the germinating of some plant, at a ripe bunch of grapes, at the beauty of early autumn, whether in fruit or flower, at the grass springing unbidden, at the mountain reaching up with its summit to the height of the ether, at the springs on its slopes bursting from those swelling breasts, and running in rivers through the glens, at the sea receiving those streams from every direction and yet remaining within its limits, with waves edged by the stretches of beach and never stepping beyond those fixed boundaries of continent: look at these and such-like sights, and how can the eye of reason fail to find in them all that our education for Realities requires? Has a man who looks at such spectacles procured for himself only a slight power for the enjoyment of those delights beyond? Not to speak of the studies which sharpen the mind towards moral excellence, geometry, I mean, and astronomy, and the knowledge of the truth that the science of numbers gives, and every method that furnishes a proof of the unknown and a conviction of the known, and, before all these, the philosophy contained in the inspired Writings, which affords a complete purification to those who educate themselves thereby in the mysteries of God. But the man who has acquired the knowledge of none of these things and has not even been conducted by the material cosmos to the perception of the beauties above it, and passes through life with his mind in a kind of tender, unformed, and untrained state, he is not the man that is likely to be placed among the same surroundings as our argument has indicated that other man, before spoken of, to be placed; so that, in this view, it can no longer be maintained that, in the two supposed and completely opposite cases, the one who has taken no part in life is more blessed than the one who has taken a noble part in it. Certainly, in comparison with one who has lived all his life in sin, not only the innocent babe but even one who has never come into the world at all will be blessed. We learn as much too in the case of Judas, from the sentence pronounced upon him in the Gospels Matthew 26:24; namely, that when we think of such men, that which never existed is to be preferred to that which has existed in such sin. For, as to the latter, on account of the depth of the ingrained evil, the chastisement in the way of purgation will be extended into infinity; but as for what has never existed, how can any torment touch it?– However, notwithstanding that, the man who institutes a comparison between the infantine immature life and that of perfect virtue, must himself be pronounced immature for so judging of realities. Do you, then, in consequence of this, ask the reason why so and so, quite tender in age, is quietly taken away from among the living? Do you ask what the Divine wisdom contemplates in this? Well, if you are thinking of all those infants who are proofs of illicit connections, and so are made away with by their parents, you are not justified in calling to account, for such wickedness, that God Who will surely bring to judgment the unholy deeds done in this way. In the case, on the other hand, of any infant who, though his parents have nurtured him, and have with nursing and supplication spent earnest care upon him, nevertheless does not continue in this world, but succumbs to a sickness even unto death, which is unmistakably the sole cause of it, we venture upon the following considerations. It is a sign of the perfection of God 's providence, that He not only heals maladies that have come into existence, but also provides that some should be never mixed up at all in the things which He has forbidden; it is reasonable, that is, to expect that He Who knows the future equally with the past should check the advance of an infant to complete maturity, in order that the evil may not be developed which His foreknowledge has detected in his future life, and in order that a lifetime granted to one whose evil dispositions will be lifelong may not become the actual material for his vice. We shall better explain what we are thinking of by an illustration.

Imagine a banquet with a great variety of food, prepared for a certain number of guests. One of them takes the position of host, and he has the skill to know accurately each person's physical constitution, what food suits each temperament, and what is harmful and unsuitable. Beyond this, let him have absolute authority over them—power to allow anyone he wishes to remain at the table or to expel anyone, and to ensure that each person eats the foods best suited to his constitution. This way, someone who is sick won't harm himself by adding fuel to his illness through what he eats, while someone in better health won't make himself sick with unsuitable food or fall into discomfort from overeating. Suppose one of those prone to excessive drinking is escorted out in the middle of the banquet or even at the very beginning, or suppose he remains until the very end—all depending on how the host can ensure that perfect order prevails at the table throughout, and that the ugly sights of overeating, excessive drinking, and drunkenness are absent. When that person is removed from all the delicious dishes and deprived of his favorite drinks, he is not very pleased. He is likely to accuse the host of injustice and poor judgment, thinking he was turned away from the feast out of envy rather than concern for his wellbeing. But if he were to see those who, from drinking too long, were already beginning to misbehave—vomiting, putting their heads on the table, and talking indecently—he would perhaps be grateful to the host for removing him from deep intoxication before he reached such a condition. If our illustration is understood, we can easily apply the principle it contains to the question before us. What was that question? Why does God, when fathers make every effort to preserve a successor to their line, often allow the son and heir to be taken away in earliest infancy? To those who ask this, we reply with the illustration of the banquet. Life's table is crowded with a vast abundance and variety of dishes. Notice that, true to the practice of fine dining, not all its courses are sweetened with the honey of enjoyment. In some cases, an existence has a taste of especially harsh misfortunes added to it, just as experts in the culinary arts desire to stimulate the appetites of guests with sharp, salty, or astringent dishes. Life, I say, is not in all its circumstances as sweet as honey. There are circumstances in which mere brine is the only seasoning, or into which an astringent, vinegary, or sharply pungent flavor has insinuated itself so that the rich sauce becomes very difficult to taste. The cups of temptation are also filled with all sorts of beverages. Some, through the error of pride, produce the vice of inflated vanity. Others lure those who drain them to some rash deed. In still other cases, they cause a vomiting in which all the ill-gotten gains of years are surrendered with shame. Therefore, to prevent someone who has indulged in the drinking too much from lingering over such a lavishly furnished table, he is taken early from the number of banqueters, and thereby escapes the evils that excessive indulgence brings to gluttons. This is that achievement of a perfect Providence which I mentioned—not only to heal evils that have been committed, but also to prevent them before they have been committed. We suspect this is the cause of the deaths of newborn infants. He Who does all things according to a plan removes the materials for evil in His love for the individual. To a character whose traits His foreknowledge has read, He grants no time to display through preeminence in actual vice what it would be like when its propensity to evil gets free play. Often, too, the Arranger of this Feast of Life exposes through such dispensations the cunning device of the compelling cause of love of money, so that this vice comes to light stripped of all plausible pretexts and no longer obscured by any misleading screen. Most people declare that they pursue wealth in order to make their offspring richer, but that their vice belongs to their nature and is not caused by any external necessity is proven by that inexcusable greed observed in childless persons. Many who have no heir, nor any hope of one, labor to gain great wealth and rear within themselves a countless brood of wants instead of children. They are left without a channel into which to direct this incurable disease, though they cannot find an excuse in any necessity for this failing. But take the case of some who, during their time in life, have been fierce and domineering in character, slaves to every kind of lust, passionate to the point of madness, refraining from no act even of the most desperate wickedness—robbers and murderers, traitors to their country, and more execrable still, killers of fathers, mothers, and children, mad for unnatural intercourse. Suppose such characters grow old in this wickedness. How, someone may ask, does this harmonize with the results of our previous investigations? If what is taken away before its time—in order that it may not continuously gorge itself, according to our illustration of the banquet, with life's indulgences—is providentially removed from that carouse, what is the special design in allowing someone of that disposition to continue his revels to old age, steeping both himself and his companions in the noxious fumes of his debauchery? In short, you will ask, why does God in His Providence withdraw one person from life before his character can be perfected in evil, and leave another to grow into such a monster that it would have been better for him if he had never been born? In answer to this, we will give those inclined to receive it favorably a reason such as this: oftentimes the existence of those whose life has been good operates to the advantage of their offspring. There are hundreds of passages testifying to this in the inspired Writings, which clearly teach us that the tender care shown by God to those who have deserved it is shared by their successors, and that even to have been an obstacle in the path to wickedness for anyone who is sure to live wickedly is a good result. But seeing that our reason in this matter has to grope in the dark, clearly no one can complain if its conjecturing leads our mind to a variety of conclusions. Well then, one might not only conclude that God, in kindness to the founders of some family, withdraws a member who is going to live a bad life from that bad life, but even if there is no such precedent in the case of some early deaths, it is not unreasonable to conjecture that they would have plunged into a vicious life with more desperate force than any of those who have actually become notorious for their wickedness.

Suppose a banquet of very varied abundance, prepared for a certain number of guests, and let the chair be taken by one of their number who is gifted to know accurately the peculiarities of constitution in each of them, and what food is best adapted to each temperament, what is harmful and unsuitable; in addition to this let him be entrusted with a sort of absolute authority over them, whether to allow as he pleases so and so to remain at the board or to expel so and so, and to take every precaution that each should address himself to the viands most suited to his constitution, so that the invalid should not kill himself by adding the fuel of what he was eating to his ailment, while the in robuster health should not make himself ill with things not good for him and fall into discomfort from over-feeding. Suppose, among these, one of those inclined to drink is conducted out in the middle of the banquet or even at the very beginning of it; or let him remain to the very end, it all depending on the way that the president can secure that perfect order shall prevail, if possible, at the board throughout, and that the evil sights of surfeiting, tippling, and tipsiness shall be absent. It is just so, then, as when that individual is not very pleased at being torn away from all the savoury dainties and deprived of his favourite liquors, but is inclined to charge the president with want of justice and judgment, as having turned him away from the feast for envy, and not for any forethought for him; but if he were to catch a sight of those who were already beginning to misbehave themselves, from the long continuance of their drinking, in the way of vomitings and putting their heads on the table and unseemly talk, he would perhaps feel grateful to him for having removed him, before he got into such a condition, from a deep debauch. If our illustration is understood, we can easily apply the rule which it contains to the question before us. What, then, was that question? Why does God, when fathers endeavour their utmost to preserve a successor to their line, often let the son and heir be snatched away in earliest infancy? To those who ask this, we shall reply with the illustration of the banquet; namely, that Life's board is as it were crowded with a vast abundance and variety of dainties; and it must, please, be noticed that, true to the practice of gastronomy, all its dishes are not sweetened with the honey of enjoyment, but in some cases an existence has a taste of some especially harsh mischances given to it: just as experts in the arts of catering desire how they may excite the appetites of the guests with sharp, or briny, or astringent dishes. Life, I say, is not in all its circumstances as sweet as honey; there are circumstances in it in which mere brine is the only relish, or into which an astringent, or vinegary, or sharp pungent flavour has so insinuated itself, that the rich sauce becomes very difficult to taste: the cups of Temptation, too, are filled with all sorts of beverages; some by the error of pride produce the vice of inflated vanity; others lure on those who drain them to some deed of rashness; while in other cases they excite a vomiting in which all the ill-gotten acquisitions of years are with shame surrendered. Therefore, to prevent one who has indulged in the carousals to an improper extent from lingering over so profusely furnished a table, he is early taken from the number of the banqueters, and thereby secures an escape out of those evils which unmeasured indulgence procures for gluttons. This is that achievement of a perfect Providence which I spoke of; namely, not only to heal evils that have been committed, but also to forestall them before they have been committed; and this, we suspect, is the cause of the deaths of new-born infants. He Who does all things upon a Plan withdraws the materials for evil in His love to the individual, and, to a character whose marks His Foreknowledge has read, grants no time to display by a pre-eminence in actual vice what it is when its propensity to evil gets free play. Often, too, the Arranger of this Feast of Life exposes by such-like dispensations the cunning device of the constraining cause of money-loving, so that this vice comes to the light bared of all specious pretexts, and no longer obscured by any misleading screen. For most declare that they give play to their cravings for more, in order that they may make their offspring all the richer; but that their vice belongs to their nature, and is not caused by any external necessity, is proved by that inexcusable avarice which is observed in childless persons. Many who have no heir, nor any hope of one, for the great wealth which they have laboriously gained, rear a countless brood within themselves of wants instead of children, and they are left without a channel into which to convey this incurable disease, though they cannot find an excuse in any necessity for this failing. But take the case of some who, during their sojourn in life, have been fierce and domineering in disposition, slaves to every kind of lust, passionate to madness, refraining from no act even of the most desperate wickedness, robbers and murderers, traitors to their country, and, more execrable still, patricides, mother-killers, child-murderers, mad after unnatural intercourse; suppose such characters grow old in this wickedness; how, some one may ask, does this harmonize with the result of our previous investigations? If that which is taken away before its time in order that it may not continuously glut itself, according to our illustration of the banquet, with Life's indulgences, is providentially removed from that carouse, what is the special design in so and so, who is of that disposition, being allowed to continue his revels to old age, steeping both himself and his boon companions in the noxious fumes of his debauchery? In fine, you will ask, wherefore does God in His Providence withdraw one from life before his character can be perfected in evil, and leave another to grow to be such a monster that it had been better for him if he had never been born? In answer to this we will give, to those who are inclined to receive it favourably, a reason such as follows: viz. that oftentimes the existence of those whose life has been a good one operates to the advantage of their offspring; and there are hundreds of passages testifying to this in the inspired Writings, which clearly teach us that the tender care shown by God to those who have deserved it is shared in by their successors, and that even to have been an obstruction, in the path to wickedness, to any one who is sure to live wickedly, is a good result. But seeing that our Reason in this matter has to grope in the dark, clearly no one can complain if its conjecturing leads our mind to a variety of conclusions. Well, then, not only one might pronounce that God, in kindness to the Founders of some Family, withdraws a member of it who is going to live a bad life from that bad life, but, even if there is no antecedent such as this in the case of some early deaths, it is not unreasonable to conjecture that they would have plunged into a vicious life with a more desperate vehemence than any of those who have actually become notorious for their wickedness.

We know from many sources that nothing happens without God, and conversely, everyone who recognizes that God is Reason, Wisdom, Perfect Goodness, and Truth will agree that God's dispensations contain no element of chance or confusion, and could not admit anything that is not good and not consistent with His Truth. Therefore, whether the early deaths of infants are due to the causes already mentioned, or whether there is some additional cause beyond these, we should acknowledge that these things happen for the best. I have another reason to offer, which I have learned from the wisdom of an Apostle—namely, why some people who have been notably wicked have been allowed to continue living in their self-chosen path. After developing this kind of thought at length in his argument to the Romans, and after raising the objection that necessarily follows from it—that the sinner could no longer be justly blamed if his sinning is part of God's dispensation, and that he would not exist at all if it were contrary to the wishes of Him Who has the world in His power—the Apostle addresses this objection and resolves this counter-argument by means of an even deeper understanding of things. He tells us that God, in giving everyone what they deserve, sometimes even allows wickedness to have scope in order to bring about good in the end. Therefore He allowed the King of Egypt, for example, to be born and to grow up as he was. The purpose was that Israel, that great nation exceeding all calculation in numbers, might be instructed by his disaster. God's omnipotence is to be recognized in every direction: it has strength to bless those who deserve it, and it is not inadequate to punish wickedness. Since the complete removal of that special people out of Egypt was necessary to prevent them from receiving any infection from Egypt's sins through a misguided way of living, that God-defying and infamous Pharaoh arose and reached maturity during the lifetime of the very people who were to benefit from his existence, so that Israel might acquire proper knowledge of God's two-fold activity, working as it did in both directions. They learned the more beneficent activity in their own experience, and the sterner activity by seeing it exercised upon those who were being punished for their wickedness, for in His consummate wisdom God can shape even evil to work together with good. The artisan—if the Apostle's argument may be confirmed by any words of ours—the artisan who must use his skill to fashion iron into some instrument for daily use, needs not only material that lends itself to his art because of its natural ductility, but also, no matter how hard the iron is, no matter how difficult it is to soften in the fire, even if it is impossible due to its adamantine resistance to mold it into any useful implement, his art requires the cooperation even of this. He will use it for an anvil, upon which the soft workable iron may be beaten and formed into something useful. But someone will say: Not everyone reaps in this life the consequences of their wickedness, any more than all those whose lives have been virtuous benefit during their lifetime from their virtuous efforts. What then, I ask, is the advantage of their existence in the case of those who live to the end unpunished? I will offer in response to this question a reason that transcends all human arguments. Somewhere in his utterances the great David declares that part of the blessedness of the virtuous will consist in this: in contemplating side by side with their own happiness the destruction of the reprobate. He says, "The righteous shall rejoice when he sees the vengeance; he shall wash his hands in the blood of the ungodly"—not as rejoicing over the torments of those sufferers, but as then most completely realizing the extent of the well-earned rewards of virtue. He indicates by those words that it will be an addition to the happiness of the virtuous and an intensification of it, to have its opposite set against it. In saying that he washes his hands in the blood of the ungodly, he conveys the thought that the cleanness of his own conduct in life is plainly demonstrated in the destruction of the ungodly. For the expression "wash" represents the idea of cleanness, but no one is washed, but is rather defiled, in blood. This makes it clear that it is a comparison with the harsher forms of punishment that puts the blessedness of virtue in a clearer light. We must now summarize our argument, so that the thoughts we have developed may be more easily retained in the memory. The premature deaths of infants contain nothing to suggest that someone who ends his life this way is subject to some terrible misfortune, nor are they to be put on the same level as the deaths of those who have purified themselves in this life through every kind of virtue. The more far-seeing Providence of God curtails the immensity of sins in the case of those whose lives are going to be so evil. The fact that some of the wicked have lived on does not overturn this explanation we have given, for in their case the evil was prevented out of kindness to their parents. However, in the case of those whose parents have never given them any ability to call upon God, such a form of Divine kindness, which accompanies such an ability, is not passed on to their own children. Otherwise the infant now prevented by death from growing up wicked would have displayed a far more desperate wickedness than the most notorious sinners, since it would have been unhindered. Even granting that some have reached the highest peak of crime, the Apostolic view supplies a comforting answer to the question, for He Who does everything with Wisdom knows how to accomplish some good by means of evil. Furthermore, if some occupy a pre-eminent position in crime, and yet for all that have never been a metal—to use our earlier illustration—that God's skill has used for any good, this is a case that adds to the happiness of the good, as the Prophet's words suggest. It may be considered not a slight element in that happiness, nor, on the other hand, as one unworthy of God's provision.

That nothing happens without God we know from many sources; and, reversely, that God's dispensations have no element of chance and confusion in them every one will allow, who realizes that God is Reason, and Wisdom, and Perfect Goodness, and Truth, and could not admit of that which is not good and not consistent with His Truth. Whether, then, the early deaths of infants are to be attributed to the aforesaid causes, or whether there is some further cause of them beyond these, it befits us to acknowledge that these things happen for the best. I have another reason also to give which I have learned from the wisdom of an Apostle; a reason, that is, why some of those who have been distinguished for their wickedness have been suffered to live on in their self-chosen course. Having expanded a thought of this kind at some length in his argument to the Romans, and having retorted upon himself with the counter-conclusion, which thence necessarily follows, that the sinner could no longer be justly blamed, if his sinning is a dispensation of God, and that he would not have existed at all, if it had been contrary to the wishes of Him Who has the world in His power, the Apostle meets this conclusion and solves this counter-plea by means of a still deeper view of things. He tells us that God, in rendering to every one his due, sometimes even grants a scope to wickedness for good in the end. Therefore He allowed the King of Egypt, for example, to be born and to grow up such as he was; the intention was that Israel, that great nation exceeding all calculation by numbers, might be instructed by his disaster. God's omnipotence is to be recognized in every direction; it has strength to bless the deserving; it is not inadequate to the punishment of wickedness; and so, as the complete removal of that peculiar people out of Egypt was necessary in order to prevent their receiving any infection from the sins of Egypt in a misguided way of living, therefore that God-defying and infamous Pharaoh rose and reached his maturity in the lifetime of the very people who were to be benefited, so that Israel might acquire a just knowledge of the two-fold energy of God, working as it did in either direction; the more beneficent they learned in their own persons, the sterner by seeing it exercised upon those who were being scourged for their wickedness; for in His consummate wisdom God can mould even evil into co-operation with good. The artisan (if the Apostle's argument may be confirmed by any words of ours)– the artisan who by his skill has to fashion iron to some instrument for daily use, has need not only of that which owing to its natural ductility lends itself to his art, but, be the iron never so hard, be it never so difficult to soften it in the fire, be it even impossible owing to its adamantine resistance to mould it into any useful implement, his art requires the co-operation even of this; he will use it for an anvil, upon which the soft workable iron may be beaten and formed into something useful. But some one will say, It is not all who thus reap in this life the fruits of their wickedness, any more than all those whose lives have been virtuous profit while living by their virtuous endeavours; what then, I ask, is the advantage of their existence in the case of these who live to the end unpunished? I will bring forward to meet this question of yours a reason which transcends all human arguments. Somewhere in his utterances the great David declares that some portion of the blessedness of the virtuous will consist in this; in contemplating side by side with their own felicity the perdition of the reprobate. He says, The righteous shall rejoice when he sees the vengeance; he shall wash his hands in the blood of the ungodly; not indeed as rejoicing over the torments of those sufferers, but as then most completely realizing the extent of the well-earned rewards of virtue. He signifies by those words that it will be an addition to the felicity of the virtuous and an intensification of it, to have its contrary set against it. In saying that he washes his hands in the blood of the ungodly he would convey the thought that the cleanness of his own acting in life is plainly declared in the perdition of the ungodly. For the expression wash represents the idea of cleanness; but no one is washed, but is rather defiled, in blood; whereby it is clear that it is a comparison with the harsher forms of punishment that puts in a clearer light the blessedness of virtue. We must now summarize our argument, in order that the thoughts which we have expanded may be more easily retained in the memory. The premature deaths of infants have nothing in them to suggest the thought that one who so terminates his life is subject to some grievous misfortune, any more than they are to be put on a level with the deaths of those who have purified themselves in this life by every kind of virtue; the more far-seeing Providence of God curtails the immensity of sins in the case of those whose lives are going to be so evil. That some of the wicked have lived on does not upset this reason which we have rendered; for the evil was in their case hindered in kindness to their parents; whereas, in the case of those whose parents have never imparted to them any power of calling upon God, such a form of the Divine kindness, which accompanies such a power, is not transmitted to their own children; otherwise the infant now prevented by death from growing up wicked would have exhibited a far more desperate wickedness than the most notorious sinners, seeing that it would have been unhindered. Even granting that some have climbed to the topmost pinnacle of crime, the Apostolic view supplies a comforting answer to the question; for He Who does everything with Wisdom knows how to effect by means of evil some good. Still further, if some occupy a pre-eminence in crime, and yet for all that have never been a metal, to use our former illustration, that God's skill has used for any good, this is a case which constitutes an addition to the happiness of the good, as the Prophet's words suggest; it may be reckoned as not a slight element in that happiness, nor, on the other hand, as one unworthy of God's providing.

Virginity's holy appearance is indeed precious in the eyes of all who measure beauty by purity. But it belongs only to those whose efforts to achieve this noble love are favored and aided by God's grace. Its very name speaks its praise. It is commonly called "Uncorrupted," which reveals the kind of purity it contains. We can measure the greatness of this gift by this equivalent term, since among the many fruits of virtuous effort, this alone has been honored with the title of what is uncorrupted. If we must praise this gift from the great God with words of honor, the Apostle's words are enough. They are few, but they overshadow all excessive praise. He simply calls the woman who has this grace as her ornament holy and without blemish. Now if achieving this saintly virtue makes one without blemish and holy, and these descriptions are used in their primary and fullest sense to glorify the incorruptible Deity, what greater praise of virginity can there be than to show that it in a manner deifies those who share in her pure mysteries, so that they become partakers of His glory—He who is in actual truth the only Holy and Blameless One? Their purity and their incorruptibility are the means of bringing them into relationship with Him. Many who write lengthy praises in detailed treatises, hoping to add something to the wonder of this grace, unconsciously defeat their own purpose, in my opinion. The excessive manner in which they expand their subject brings its credibility into question. Nature's great things have their own way of striking us with admiration. They do not need words to plead their case—the sky, for instance, or the sun, or any other wonder of the universe. In the business of this lower world, words certainly act as a foundation, and skillful praise does give an appearance of magnificence. So much so that people are apt to suspect that the wonder produced by flattery is merely the result of art. So the one sufficient way of praising virginity will be to show that this virtue is above praise, and to demonstrate our admiration of it by our lives rather than by our words. A man who takes this theme for ambitious praise appears to suppose that one drop of his own sweat will make a noticeable increase to the boundless ocean—if indeed he believes, as he does, that any human words can give more dignity to so rare a grace. He must be ignorant either of his own powers or of what he attempts to praise.

The holy look of virginity is precious indeed in the judgment of all who make purity the test of beauty; but it belongs to those alone whose struggles to gain this object of a noble love are favoured and helped by the grace of God. Its praise is heard at once in the very name which goes with it; Uncorrupted is the word commonly said of it, and this shows the kind of purity that is in it; thus we can measure by its equivalent term the height of this gift, seeing that among the many results of virtuous endeavour this alone has been honoured with the title of the thing that is uncorrupted. And if we must extol with laudations this gift from the great God, the words of His Apostle are sufficient in its praise; they are few, but they throw into the background all extravagant laudations; he only styles as holy and without blemish her who has this grace for her ornament. Now if the achievement of this saintly virtue consists in making one without blemish and holy, and these epithets are adopted in their first and fullest force to glorify the incorruptible Deity, what greater praise of virginity can there be than thus to be shown in a manner deifying those who share in her pure mysteries, so that they become partakers of His glory Who is in actual truth the only Holy and Blameless One; their purity and their incorruptibility being the means of bringing them into relationship with Him? Many who write lengthy laudations in detailed treatises, with the view of adding something to the wonder of this grace, unconsciously defeat, in my opinion, their own end; the fulsome manner in which they amplify their subject brings its credit into suspicion. Nature's greatnesses have their own way of striking with admiration; they do not need the pleading of words: the sky, for instance, or the sun, or any other wonder of the universe. In the business of this lower world words certainly act as a basement, and the skill of praise does impart a look of magnificence; so much so, that mankind are apt to suspect as the result of mere art the wonder produced by panegyric. So the one sufficient way of praising virginity will be to show that that virtue is above praise, and to evince our admiration of it by our lives rather than by our words. A man who takes this theme for ambitious praise has the appearance of supposing that one drop of his own perspiration will make an appreciable increase of the boundless ocean, if indeed he believes, as he does, that any human words can give more dignity to so rare a grace; he must be ignorant either of his own powers or of that which he attempts to praise.

Deep thought is needed to understand the surpassing excellence of this grace. It is contained in the idea of the incorrupt Father; and here at the outset is a paradox, namely that virginity is found in Him who has a Son and yet has begotten Him without passion. It is also included in the nature of this Only-begotten God, who first introduced all this moral innocence; it shines forth equally in His pure and passionless generation. Here is another paradox: that the Son should be known to us by virginity. It is seen too in the inherent and incorruptible purity of the Holy Spirit; for when you have named the pure and incorruptible, you have named virginity. It accompanies the whole supramundane existence; because of its passionlessness it is always present with the powers above; never separated from anything that is Divine, it never touches the opposite of this. All whose instinct and will have found their level in virtue are beautified with this perfect purity of the uncorrupted state; all who are ranked in the opposite class of character are what they are, and are called so, because of their fall from purity. What force of expression, then, will be adequate to such a grace? How can we not fear that the greatness of its intrinsic value might be lessened by anyone's efforts at eloquence? The estimate of it that he creates will be less than what his hearers had before. It will be best, then, to omit all praise in this case; we cannot lift words to the height of our theme. On the contrary, it is possible to be always mindful of this gift of God; and our lips may always speak of this blessing; that, though it is the property of spiritual existence and of such singular excellence, yet by the love of God it has been given to those who have received their life from the will of the flesh and from blood; that, when human nature has been grounded in passionate inclinations, it stretches out its offer of purity like a hand to raise it up again and make it look above. This, I think, was the reason why our Master, Jesus Christ Himself, the Fountain of all innocence, did not come into the world by wedlock. It was to reveal by the manner of His Incarnation this great secret: that purity is the only complete indication of the presence of God and of His coming, and that no one can in reality secure this for himself unless he has altogether estranged himself from the passions of the flesh. What happened in the stainless Mary when the fullness of the Godhead which was in Christ shone out through her, that happens in every soul that leads by rule the virgin life. No longer indeed does the Master come with bodily presence; we know Christ no longer according to the flesh; but, spiritually, He dwells in us and brings His Father with Him, as the Gospel somewhere tells. Seeing, then, that virginity means so much as this, that while it remains in Heaven with the Father of spirits and moves in the dance of the celestial powers, it nevertheless stretches out hands for man's salvation; that while it is the channel which draws down the Deity to share man's estate, it keeps wings for man's desires to rise to heavenly things, and is a bond of union between the Divine and human, by its mediation bringing into harmony these existences so widely divided—what words could be discovered powerful enough to reach this wondrous height? But still, it is absurd to seem like creatures without expression and without feeling; and we must choose (if we are silent) one of two things: either to appear never to have felt the special beauty of virginity, or to show ourselves as obstinately blind to all beauty. We have consented therefore to speak briefly about this virtue, according to the wish of him who has assigned us this task, and whom in all things we must obey. But let no one expect from us any display of style; even if we wished it, perhaps we could not produce it, for we are quite unversed in that kind of writing. Even if we possessed such power, we would not prefer the favor of the few to the edification of the many. A sensible writer should have, I think, for his chief object not to be admired above all other writers, but to benefit both himself and the many.

Deep indeed will be the thought necessary to understand the surpassing excellence of this grace. It is comprehended in the idea of the Father incorrupt; and here at the outset is a paradox, viz. that virginity is found in Him, Who has a Son and yet without passion has begotten Him. It is included too in the nature of this Only-begotten God, Who struck the first note of all this moral innocence; it shines forth equally in His pure and passionless generation. Again a paradox; that the Son should be known to us by virginity. It is seen, too, in the inherent and incorruptible purity of the Holy Spirit; for when you have named the pure and incorruptible you have named virginity. It accompanies the whole supramundane existence; because of its passionlessness it is always present with the powers above; never separated from anything that is Divine, it never touches the opposite of this. All whose instinct and will have found their level in virtue are beautified with this perfect purity of the uncorrupted state; all who are ranked in the opposite class of character are what they are, and are called so, by reason of their fall from purity. What force of expression, then, will be adequate to such a grace? How can there be no cause to fear lest the greatness of its intrinsic value should be impaired by the efforts of any one's eloquence? The estimate of it which he will create will be less than that which his hearers had before. It will be well, then, to omit all laudation in this case; we cannot lift words to the height of our theme. On the contrary, it is possible to be ever mindful of this gift of God; and our lips may always speak of this blessing; that, though it is the property of spiritual existence and of such singular excellence, yet by the love of God it has been bestowed on those who have received their life from the will of the flesh and from blood; that, when human nature has been based by passionate inclinations, it stretches out its offer of purity like a hand to raise it up again and make it look above. This, I think, was the reason why our Master, Jesus Christ Himself, the Fountain of all innocence, did not come into the world by wedlock. It was, to divulge by the manner of His Incarnation this great secret; that purity is the only complete indication of the presence of God and of His coming, and that no one can in reality secure this for himself, unless he has altogether estranged himself from the passions of the flesh. What happened in the stainless Mary when the fullness of the Godhead which was in Christ shone out through her, that happens in every soul that leads by rule the virgin life. No longer indeed does the Master come with bodily presence; we know Christ no longer according to the flesh 2 Corinthians 5:16; but, spiritually, He dwells in us and brings His Father with Him, as the Gospel somewhere tells. Seeing, then, that virginity means so much as this, that while it remains in Heaven with the Father of spirits, and moves in the dance of the celestial powers, it nevertheless stretches out hands for man's salvation; that while it is the channel which draws down the Deity to share man's estate, it keeps wings for man's desires to rise to heavenly things, and is a bond of union between the Divine and human, by its mediation bringing into harmony these existences so widely divided — what words could be discovered powerful enough to reach this wondrous height? But still, it is monstrous to seem like creatures without expression and without feeling; and we must choose (if we are silent) one of two things; either to appear never to have felt the special beauty of virginity, or to exhibit ourselves as obstinately blind to all beauty: we have consented therefore to speak briefly about this virtue, according to the wish of him who has assigned us this task, and whom in all things we must obey. But let no one expect from us any display of style; even if we wished it, perhaps we could not produce it, for we are quite unversed in that kind of writing. Even if we possessed such power, we would not prefer the favour of the few to the edification of the many. A writer of sense should have, I take it, for his chiefest object not to be admired above all other writers, but to profit both himself and them, the many.

I truly wish I could gain some benefit from this effort! I would have taken on this work more eagerly if I could hope to share in the fruits of plowing and threshing, as Scripture says—then the labor would have been a pleasure. As things stand, my understanding of the beauty of virginity is somehow empty and useless to me, just as grain is to the muzzled ox treading the threshing floor, or as water streaming from a cliff is to a thirsty man who cannot reach it. Happy are those who still have the power to choose the better way and have not cut themselves off from it through commitments to secular life, as we have. A gulf now separates us from glorious virginity: no one who has once set foot in secular life can climb up to that. We are merely observers of others' blessings and witnesses to the happiness of another group. Even if we express some fitting thoughts about virginity, we will be no better than cooks and kitchen servants who prepare sweet delicacies for the tables of the rich without having any share in what they make. What a blessing it would have been if things were different, if we did not have to learn what is good through later regrets! Now the enviable ones are those who succeed beyond their prayers and desires, who have not put the enjoyment of these delights beyond their reach. We are like people who have a wealthy group to compare with their own poverty, and so are all the more troubled and dissatisfied with their present condition. The more precisely we understand the riches of virginity, the more we must grieve over the other life, for by this contrast with better things we realize how poor it is. I am not speaking only of the future rewards stored up for those who have lived this excellent life, but also the rewards they have while still alive here. For if anyone would decide to measure exactly the difference between the two ways of life, he would find it nearly as great as the difference between heaven and earth. The truth of this statement can be known by looking at the actual facts.

Would indeed that some profit might come to myself from this effort! I should have undertaken this labour with the greater readiness, if I could have hope of sharing, according to the Scripture, in the fruits of the plough and the threshing-floor; the toil would then have been a pleasure. As it is, this my knowledge of the beauty of virginity is in some sort vain and useless to me, just as the grain is to the muzzled ox that treads the floor, or the water that streams from the precipice to a thirsty man when he cannot reach it. Happy they who have still the power of choosing the better way, and have not debarred themselves from it by engagements of the secular life, as we have, whom a gulf now divides from glorious virginity: no one can climb up to that who has once planted his foot upon the secular life. We are but spectators of others' blessings and witnesses to the happiness of another class. Even if we strike out some fitting thoughts about virginity, we shall not be better than the cooks and scullions who provide sweet luxuries for the tables of the rich, without having any portion themselves in what they prepare. What a blessing if it had been otherwise, if we had not to learn the good by after-regrets! Now they are the enviable ones, they succeed even beyond their prayers and their desires, who have not put out of their power the enjoyment of these delights. We are like those who have a wealthy society with which to compare their own poverty, and so are all the more vexed and discontented with their present lot. The more exactly we understand the riches of virginity, the more we must bewail the other life; for we realize by this contrast with better things, how poor it is. I do not speak only of the future rewards in store for those who have lived thus excellently, but those rewards also which they have while alive here; for if any one would make up his mind to measure exactly the difference between the two courses, he would find it nearly as great as that between heaven and earth. The truth of this statement may be known by looking at actual facts.

But in writing this sad tragedy what will be a fit beginning? How shall we really bring into view the evils common to life? All people know them by experience, but somehow nature has contrived to blind those who are actually suffering so that they willingly ignore their condition. Shall we begin with marriage's choicest pleasures? Well then, is not the sum total of all that is hoped for in marriage to gain delightful companionship? Grant this obtained; let us sketch a marriage that is in every way most happy: illustrious birth, adequate means, suitable ages, the very flower of the prime of life, deep affection, the very best that each can think of the other, that sweet rivalry where each wishes to surpass the other in loving; in addition, popularity, power, wide reputation, and everything else. But observe that even beneath this array of blessings the fire of an inevitable pain is smoldering. I do not speak of the envy that is always springing up against those of distinguished rank, and the liability to attack which hangs over those who seem prosperous, and that natural hatred of superiors shown by those who do not share equally in the good fortune, which make these seemingly favored ones pass an anxious time more full of pain than pleasure. I omit that from the picture, and will suppose that envy against them is asleep; although it would not be easy to find a single life in which both these blessings were joined—happiness above the common and escape from envy. However, let us, if it is to be so, suppose a married life free from all such trials, and let us see if it is possible for those who live with such an amount of good fortune to enjoy it. Why, what kind of trouble is left, you will ask, when even envy of their happiness does not reach them? I affirm that this very thing, this sweetness that surrounds their lives, is the spark which kindles pain. They are human all the time, weak and perishing things; they have to look upon the tombs of their ancestors; and so pain is inseparably bound up with their existence, if they have the least power of reflection. This continued expectation of death, realized by no sure signs, but hanging over them with the terrible uncertainty of the future, disturbs their present joy, clouding it over with the fear of what is coming. If only, before experience comes, the results of experience could be learned, or if, when one has entered on this course, it were possible by some other means of conjecture to survey the reality, then what a crowd of deserters would run from marriage into the virgin life; what care and eagerness never to be entangled in that retentive snare, where no one knows for certain how the net galls until they have actually entered it! You would see there, if only you could do it without danger, many contraries uniting: smiles melting into tears, pain mingled with pleasure, death always hanging by expectation over the children that are born and putting a finger upon each of the sweetest joys. Whenever the husband looks at the beloved face, that moment the fear of separation accompanies the look. If he listens to the sweet voice, the thought comes into his mind that some day he will not hear it. Whenever he is glad with gazing on her beauty, then he shudders most with the presentiment of mourning her loss. When he marks all those charms which to youth are so precious and which the thoughtless seek for—the bright eyes beneath the lids, the arching eyebrows, the cheek with its sweet and dimpling smile, the natural red that blooms upon the lips, the gold-bound hair shining in many-twisted masses on the head, and all that transient grace—then, though he may be little given to reflection, he must have this thought also in his inmost soul that some day all this beauty will melt away and become as nothing, turned after all this show into foul and unsightly bones, which wear no trace, no memorial, no remnant of that living bloom. Can he live delighted when he thinks of that? Can he trust in these treasures which he holds as if they would always be his? No, it is plain that he will stagger as if he were mocked by a dream, and will have his faith in life shaken, and will look upon what he sees as no longer his. You will understand, if you have a comprehensive view of things as they are, that nothing in this life looks like what it is. It shows to us by the illusions of our imagination one thing instead of something else. People gaze open-mouthed at it, and it mocks them with hopes; for a while it hides itself beneath this deceitful show; then all of a sudden in the reversals of life it is revealed as something different from that which people's hopes, conceived by its fraud in foolish hearts, had pictured. Will life's sweetness seem worth taking delight in to him who reflects on this? Will he ever be able really to feel it, so as to have joy in the goods he holds? Will he not, disturbed by the constant fear of some reversal, have the use without the enjoyment? I will but mention the portents, dreams, omens, and such-like things which by a foolish habit of thought are taken notice of, and always make people fear the worst. But her time of labor comes upon the young wife; and the occasion is regarded not as the bringing of a child into the world, but as the approach of death; in bearing it is expected that she will die; and indeed often this sad presentiment is true, and before they spread the birthday feast, before they taste any of their expected joys, they have to change their rejoicing into lamentation. Still in love's fever, still at the height of their passionate affection, not yet having grasped life's sweetest gifts, as in the vision of a dream, they are suddenly torn away from all they possessed. But what comes next? Servants, like conquering foes, dismantle the bridal chamber; they deck it for the funeral, but it is death's room now; they make the useless wailings and beatings of the hands. Then there is the memory of former days, curses on those who advised the marriage, recriminations against friends who did not stop it; blame thrown on parents whether they be alive or dead, bitter outbursts against human destiny, arraigning of the whole course of nature, complaints and accusations even against the Divine government; war within the man himself, and fighting with those who would admonish; no repugnance to the most shocking words and acts. In some this state of mind continues, and their reason is more completely swallowed up by grief; and their tragedy has a sadder ending, the victim not enduring to survive the calamity.

But in writing this sad tragedy what will be a fit beginning? How shall we really bring to view the evils common to life? All men know them by experience, but somehow nature has contrived to blind the actual sufferers so that they willingly ignore their condition. Shall we begin with its choicest sweets? Well then, is not the sum total of all that is hoped for in marriage to get delightful companionship? Grant this obtained; let us sketch a marriage in every way most happy; illustrious birth, competent means, suitable ages, the very flower of the prime of life, deep affection, the very best that each can think of the other, that sweet rivalry of each wishing to surpass the other in loving; in addition, popularity, power, wide reputation, and everything else. But observe that even beneath this array of blessings the fire of an inevitable pain is smouldering. I do not speak of the envy that is always springing up against those of distinguished rank, and the liability to attack which hangs over those who seem prosperous, and that natural hatred of superiors shown by those who do not share equally in the good fortune, which make these seemingly favoured ones pass an anxious time more full of pain than pleasure. I omit that from the picture, and will suppose that envy against them is asleep; although it would not be easy to find a single life in which both these blessings were joined, i.e. happiness above the common, and escape from envy. However, let us, if so it is to be, suppose a married life free from all such trials; and let us see if it is possible for those who live with such an amount of good fortune to enjoy it. Why, what kind of vexation is left, you will ask, when even envy of their happiness does not reach them? I affirm that this very thing, this sweetness that surrounds their lives, is the spark which kindles pain. They are human all the time, things weak and perishing; they have to look upon the tombs of their progenitors; and so pain is inseparably bound up with their existence, if they have the least power of reflection. This continued expectancy of death, realized by no sure tokens, but hanging over them the terrible uncertainty of the future, disturbs their present joy, clouding it over with the fear of what is coming. If only, before experience comes, the results of experience could be learned, or if, when one has entered on this course, it were possible by some other means of conjecture to survey the reality, then what a crowd of deserters would run from marriage into the virgin life; what care and eagerness never to be entangled in that retentive snare, where no one knows for certain how the net galls till they have actually entered it! You would see there, if only you could do it without danger, many contraries uniting; smiles melting into tears, pain mingled with pleasure, death always hanging by expectation over the children that are born, and putting a finger upon each of the sweetest joys. Whenever the husband looks at the beloved face, that moment the fear of separation accompanies the look. If he listens to the sweet voice, the thought comes into his mind that some day he will not hear it. Whenever he is glad with gazing on her beauty, then he shudders most with the presentiment of mourning her loss. When he marks all those charms which to youth are so precious and which the thoughtless seek for, the bright eyes beneath the lids, the arching eyebrows, the cheek with its sweet and dimpling smile, the natural red that blooms upon the lips, the gold-bound hair shining in many-twisted masses on the head, and all that transient grace, then, though he may be little given to reflection, he must have this thought also in his inmost soul that some day all this beauty will melt away and become as nothing, turned after all this show into noisome and unsightly bones, which wear no trace, no memorial, no remnant of that living bloom. Can he live delighted when he thinks of that? Can he trust in these treasures which he holds as if they would be always his? Nay, it is plain that he will stagger as if he were mocked by a dream, and will have his faith in life shaken, and will look upon what he sees as no longer his. You will understand, if you have a comprehensive view of things as they are, that nothing in this life looks that which it is. It shows to us by the illusions of our imagination one thing, instead of something else. Men gaze open-mouthed at it, and it mocks them with hopes; for a while it hides itself beneath this deceitful show; then all of a sudden in the reverses of life it is revealed as something different from that which men's hopes, conceived by its fraud in foolish hearts, had pictured. Will life's sweetness seem worth taking delight in to him who reflects on this? Will he ever be able really to feel it, so as to have joy in the goods he holds? Will he not, disturbed by the constant fear of some reverse, have the use without the enjoyment? I will but mention the portents, dreams, omens, and such-like things which by a foolish habit of thought are taken notice of, and always make men fear the worst. But her time of labour comes upon the young wife; and the occasion is regarded not as the bringing of a child into the world, but as the approach of death; in bearing it is expected that she will die; and, indeed, often this sad presentiment is true, and before they spread the birthday feast, before they taste any of their expected joys, they have to change their rejoicing into lamentation. Still in love's fever, still at the height of their passionate affection, not yet having grasped life's sweetest gifts, as in the vision of a dream, they are suddenly torn away from all they possessed. But what comes next? Domestics, like conquering foes, dismantle the bridal chamber; they deck it for the funeral, but it is death's room now; they make the useless wailings and beatings of the hands. Then there is the memory of former days, curses on those who advised the marriage, recriminations against friends who did not stop it; blame thrown on parents whether they be alive or dead, bitter outbursts against human destiny, arraigning of the whole course of nature, complaints and accusations even against the Divine government; war within the man himself, and fighting with those who would admonish; no repugnance to the most shocking words and acts. In some this state of mind continues, and their reason is more completely swallowed up by grief; and their tragedy has a sadder ending, the victim not enduring to survive the calamity.

But let us instead imagine a happier situation. The danger of childbirth is over, and a child is born to them, looking just like the parents. Does this reduce their reasons for grief at all? No, it actually increases them. The parents keep all their earlier fears and add to them new ones for the child, worrying that something might happen during its upbringing—a serious accident, some turn of bad fortune, an illness, a fever, or any dangerous disease. Both parents share these worries equally. But who could list all the special anxieties of the wife? I will skip the most obvious ones that everyone can understand: the exhaustion of pregnancy, the danger of childbirth, the work of nursing, her heart torn in two for her children, and if she is mother to several, her soul divided into as many pieces as she has children, feeling tenderly everything that happens to them. Everyone understands all that. But God's word tells us that she does not belong to herself, but finds her resources only in the man whom marriage has made her master. So if she is left alone even for a very short time, she feels as if separated from her head and can hardly bear it. She takes even this brief absence of her husband as a sign of her coming widowhood. Her fear makes her give up all hope at once. Her eyes, filled with terrified waiting, always fix on the door. Her ears are always busy with what others are whispering. Her heart, stung by her fears, is nearly bursting even before any bad news arrives. A noise at the door, whether imagined or real, acts like a messenger of disaster and suddenly shakes her very soul. Most likely everything outside is fine and there is no real cause to fear, but her fainting spirit is quicker than any messenger and turns her imagination from good news to despair. This is how even the most fortunate live, and they are not entirely to be envied. Their life cannot be compared to the freedom of virginity. Yet this quick sketch has left out many more distressing details. Often this young wife, just married, still radiant in her bridal beauty, still perhaps blushing when her bridegroom enters and shyly stealing secret glances at him, when passion is all the stronger because modesty prevents showing it, suddenly must take the name of a poor lonely widow and be called everything pitiful. Death comes in an instant and changes that bright creature in her white and expensive dress into a black-robed mourner. It strips off the bridal ornaments and clothes her in the colors of grief. There is darkness in the once cheerful room, and the servants sing their long funeral songs. She hates her friends when they try to ease her grief. She refuses food, wastes away, and in her soul's deep sadness has a strong desire only for her own death, a desire that often lasts until it comes. Even if time eventually ends this sorrow, another one comes, whether she has children or not. If she has them, they are fatherless, and as objects of pity themselves, they renew the memory of her loss. If she is childless, then her lost husband's name is wiped out, and this grief is greater than the apparent comfort. I will say little of the other particular sorrows of widowhood, for who could list them all exactly? She finds enemies in her own relatives. Some actually take advantage of her affliction. Others rejoice over her loss and see with malicious joy the household falling apart, the insolence of the servants, and the other troubles visible in such a situation, of which there are many. Because of these things, many women are forced to risk going through the same experiences again, unable to endure this bitter mockery. As if they could avenge insults by adding to their own suffering! Others, remembering the past, will put up with anything rather than plunge a second time into similar troubles. If you want to learn all the trials of this married life, listen to those women who actually know it. How they congratulate those who have chosen the virgin life from the beginning and have not had to learn by experience about the better way—that virginity is protected against all these evils, has no orphan state, no widowhood to mourn. It is always in the presence of the undying Bridegroom. It has the children of devotion always to rejoice in. It continually sees a home that is truly its own, furnished with every treasure because the Master always lives there. In this case death does not bring separation, but union with the One who is longed for, because when the soul departs, it is with Christ, as the Apostle says. But now that we have examined the feelings of those whose lot is happy, it is time to reveal other lives where poverty and hardship and all the other evils that people suffer are a permanent condition: deformities, diseases, and all other lifelong afflictions. Someone whose life is contained in himself either escapes them entirely or can bear them easily, having a focused mind that is not distracted from itself. But someone who shares himself with wife and child often does not have even a moment to spend regretting his own condition, because worry for his loved ones fills his heart. But it is unnecessary to dwell on what everyone knows. If such pain and exhaustion is attached to what seems like prosperity, what can we expect from the opposite condition? Any description that tries to show it will fall short of reality. Yet perhaps we can declare the depths of its misery in very few words. Those whose lot is contrary to what passes as prosperous receive their sorrows from causes contrary to that as well. Prosperous lives are spoiled by expecting or experiencing death, but the misery of these others is that death delays coming. These lives are widely separated by opposite feelings, yet although equally without hope, they move toward the same end. So varied, then, so strangely different are the evils with which marriage supplies the world. There is always pain, whether children are born or can never be expected, whether they live or die. One person has an abundance of children but lacks enough resources to support them. Another feels the lack of an heir to the great fortune he has worked for and considers the other's misfortune a blessing. Each of them, in fact, wishes for the very thing he sees the other regretting. Again, one man loses a much-loved son through death, while another has a wicked son who is alive. Both are equally to be pitied, though one mourns his boy's death and the other his boy's life. I will only mention how sadly and disastrously family jealousies and quarrels, arising from real or imagined causes, end. Who could go completely into all those details? If you want to know what a network of these evils human life is, you need not go back to those old stories that have given subjects to playwrights. They are considered myths because of their shocking exaggeration. They contain murders and cannibalism of children, murders of husbands, murders of mothers and brothers, incestuous unions, and every kind of violation of nature. Yet the old chronicler begins the story that ends in such horrors with marriage. But turning from all that, look only at the tragedies being acted out on this life's stage. It is marriage that supplies mankind with actors there. Go to the law courts and read through the laws. Then you will know the shameful secrets of marriage. Just as when you hear a doctor describing various diseases, you understand the misery of the human body by learning the number and kinds of sufferings it is subject to, so when you read the laws and see there the strange variety of crimes in marriage and the penalties attached to them, you will have a fairly accurate idea of its nature. The law does not provide remedies for evils that do not exist, any more than a doctor has a treatment for diseases that are never known.

But rather than this let us suppose a happier case. The danger of childbirth is past; a child is born to them, the very image of its parents' beauty. Are the occasions for grief at all lessened thereby? Rather they are increased; for the parents retain all their former fears, and feel in addition those on behalf of the child, lest anything should happen to it in its bringing up; for instance a bad accident, or by some turn of misfortunes a sickness, a fever, any dangerous disease. Both parents share alike in these; but who could recount the special anxieties of the wife? We omit the most obvious, which all can understand, the weariness of pregnancy, the danger in childbirth, the cares of nursing, the tearing of her heart in two for her offspring, and, if she is the mother of many, the dividing of her soul into as many parts as she has children; the tenderness with which she herself feels all that is happening to them. That is well understood by every one. But the oracle of God tells us that she is not her own mistress, but finds her resources only in him whom wedlock has made her lord; and so, if she be for ever so short a time left alone, she feels as if she were separated from her head, and can ill bear it; she even takes this short absence of her husband to be the prelude to her widowhood; her fear makes her at once give up all hope; accordingly her eyes, filled with terrified suspense, are always fixed upon the door; her ears are always busied with what others are whispering; her heart, stung with her fears, is nearly bursting even before any bad news has arrived; a noise in the doorway, whether fancied or real, acts as a messenger of ill, and on a sudden shakes her very soul; most likely all outside is well, and there is no cause to fear at all; but her fainting spirit is quicker than any message, and turns her fancy from good tidings to despair. Thus even the most favoured live, and they are not altogether to be envied; their life is not to be compared to the freedom of virginity. Yet this hasty sketch has omitted many of the more distressing details. Often this young wife too, just wedded, still brilliant in bridal grace, still perhaps blushing when her bridegroom enters, and shyly stealing furtive glances at him, when passion is all the more intense because modesty prevents it being shown, suddenly has to take the name of a poor lonely widow and be called all that is pitiable. Death comes in an instant and changes that bright creature in her white and rich attire into a black-robed mourner. He takes off the bridal ornaments and clothes her with the colors of bereavement. There is darkness in the once cheerful room, and the waiting- women sing their long dirges. She hates her friends when they try to soften her grief; she will not take food, she wastes away, and in her soul's deep dejection has a strong longing only for her death, a longing which often lasts till it comes. Even supposing that time puts an end to this sorrow, still another comes, whether she has children or not. If she has, they are fatherless, and, as objects of pity themselves, renew the memory of her loss. If she is childless, then the name of her lost husband is rooted up, and this grief is greater than the seeming consolation. I will say little of the other special sorrows of widowhood; for who could enumerate them all exactly? She finds her enemies in her relatives. Some actually take advantage of her affliction. Others exult over her loss, and see with malignant joy the home falling to pieces, the insolence of the servants, and the other distresses visible in such a case, of which there are plenty. In consequence of these, many women are compelled to risk once more the trial of the same things, not being able to endure this bitter derision. As if they could revenge insults by increasing their own sufferings! Others, remembering the past, will put up with anything rather than plunge a second time into the like troubles. If you wish to learn all the trials of this married life, listen to those women who actually know it. How they congratulate those who have chosen from the first the virgin life, and have not had to learn by experience about the better way, that virginity is fortified against all these ills, that it has no orphan state, no widowhood to mourn; it is always in the presence of the undying Bridegroom; it has the offspring of devotion always to rejoice in; it sees continually a home that is truly its own, furnished with every treasure because the Master always dwells there; in this case death does not bring separation, but union with Him Who is longed for; for when (a soul) departs, then it is with Christ, as the Apostle says. But it is time, now that we have examined on the one side the feelings of those whose lot is happy, to make a revelation of other lives, where poverty and adversity and all the other evils which men have to suffer are a fixed condition; deformities, I mean, and diseases, and all other lifelong afflictions. He whose life is contained in himself either escapes them altogether or can bear them easily, possessing a collected mind which is not distracted from itself; while he who shares himself with wife and child often has not a moment to bestow even upon regrets for his own condition, because anxiety for his dear ones fills his heart. But it is superfluous to dwell upon that which every one knows. If to what seems prosperity such pain and weariness is bound, what may we not expect of the opposite condition? Every description which attempts to represent it to our view will fall short of the reality. Yet perhaps we may in a very few words declare the depths of its misery. Those whose lot is contrary to that which passes as prosperous receive their sorrows as well from causes contrary to that. Prosperous lives are marred by the expectancy, or the presence, of death; but the misery of these is that death delays his coming. These lives then are widely divided by opposite feelings; although equally without hope, they converge to the same end. So many-sided, then, so strangely different are the ills with which marriage supplies the world. There is pain always, whether children are born, or can never be expected, whether they live, or die. One abounds in them but has not enough means for their support; another feels the want of an heir to the great fortune he has toiled for, and regards as a blessing the other's misfortune; each of them, in fact, wishes for that very thing which he sees the other regretting. Again, one man loses by death a much-loved son; another has a reprobate son alive; both equally to be pitied, though the one mourns over the death, the other over the life, of his boy. Neither will I do more than mention how sadly and disastrously family jealousies and quarrels, arising from real or fancied causes, end. Who could go completely into all those details? If you would know what a network of these evils human life is, you need not go back again to those old stories which have furnished subjects to dramatic poets. They are regarded as myths on account of their shocking extravagance; there are in them murders and eating of children, husband-murders, murders of mothers and brothers, incestuous unions, and every sort of disturbance of nature; and yet the old chronicler begins the story which ends in such horrors with marriage. But turning from all that, gaze only upon the tragedies that are being enacted on this life's stage; it is marriage that supplies mankind with actors there. Go to the law-courts and read through the laws there; then you will know the shameful secrets of marriage. Just as when you hear a physician explaining various diseases, you understand the misery of the human frame by learning the number and the kind of sufferings it is liable to, so when you peruse the laws and read there the strange variety of crimes in marriage to which their penalties are attached, you will have a pretty accurate idea of its properties; for the law does not provide remedies for evils which do not exist, any more than a physician has a treatment for diseases which are never known.

We don't need to keep showing the disadvantages of this life in such a limited way, as if the number of its evils were restricted to adultery, quarrels, and conspiracies. I think we should take a higher and truer perspective and say outright that none of the evil in life—which appears in all its activities and pursuits—can have any grip on a person if he refuses to bind himself to this way of living. The truth of what we're saying will become clear this way. A man who sees through the illusion with the eye of his purified spirit, rises above the struggling world, and—to use the Apostle's words—regards it all as dung, essentially exiling himself completely from human life through his abstinence from marriage—that man has no participation whatever in the sins of humanity, such as greed, envy, anger, hatred, and everything of that sort. He is exempt from all this and is completely free and at peace. There is nothing in him to provoke his neighbors' envy, because he grasps none of those things around which envy in this life gathers. He has raised his own life above the world, and valuing virtue as his only precious possession, he will spend his days in painless peace and quiet. Virtue is a possession that, even though everyone shares it according to their capacity, is always abundant for those who thirst after it—unlike the occupation of lands on this earth, which people divide into sections, where the more they add to one portion the more they take from another, so that one person's gain is another's loss. This is where fights for the larger share come from, arising from people's hatred of being cheated. But the larger owner of virtue is never envied. The one who seizes the larger share does no damage to the one who claims equal participation. As each person is capable, each has this noble longing satisfied, while the wealth of virtues in those who already possess them is not exhausted. The man, then, who keeps his eyes only on such a life and makes virtue—which has no limit that anyone can set—his only treasure, will surely never consent to bend his soul to any of those low pursuits that the masses follow. He will not admire earthly riches, or human power, or any of those things that folly seeks. If his mind is still pitched so low, he is outside our group of beginners, and our words don't apply to him. But if his thoughts are elevated, walking as it were with God, he will be lifted out of the maze of all these errors, because the underlying cause of them all—marriage—has not touched him. Now the desire to be ahead of others is the deadly sin of pride, and one would not be wrong in saying that this is the root of all the thorns of sin. But it is from reasons connected with marriage that this pride mostly begins. To show what I mean: we generally find the greedy man blaming his closest relatives; the man obsessed with fame and ambition generally makes his family responsible for this sin—he must not be thought inferior to his ancestors; he must be considered a great man by the coming generation by leaving his children historical records of himself. So also the other diseases of the soul—envy, spite, hatred and such things—are connected with this cause. They are found among those who are eager about the things of this life. The one who has fled from it gazes as from some high watchtower at the human scene and pities these slaves of vanity for their blindness in placing such value on bodily well-being. He sees some distinguished person acting superior because of his public honors, wealth, and power, and only laughs at the folly of being so puffed up. He gives to the years of human life the longest number, according to the Psalmist's calculation, and then compares this tiny interval with the endless ages, and pities the vain glory of those who get worked up over such low and petty and perishable things. What, indeed, among earthly things is there to envy in what so many strive for—honor? What is gained by those who win it? The mortal remains mortal whether he is honored or not. What good does the owner of many acres gain in the end? Except that the foolish man thinks he owns what never belongs to him, apparently ignorant in his greed that the earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof, for God is king of all the earth. It is the passion of owning that gives people a false title of lordship over what can never belong to them. The earth, says the wise Preacher, abides forever, serving every generation, first one, then another, that is born upon it. But people, though they are so little even their own masters that they are brought into life without knowing it by their Maker's will, and are withdrawn from it before they wish, nevertheless in their excessive vanity think that they are its lords—that they, now born, now dying, rule what remains continually. Someone who, reflecting on this, holds cheaply all that humanity prizes, whose only love is the divine life, because all flesh is grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass, can never care for this grass which today is and tomorrow is not. Studying the divine ways, he knows not only that human life has no stability, but that the entire universe will not keep on its quiet course forever. He neglects his existence here as an alien and passing thing, for the Savior said, Heaven and earth shall pass away—the whole necessarily awaits its refashioning. As long as he is in this tabernacle, exhibiting mortality, weighed down with this existence, he laments the lengthening of his stay in it, as the Psalmist-poet says in his heavenly songs. Truly, they live in darkness who dwell in these living tabernacles. Therefore that preacher, groaning at the continuation of this stay, says, Woe is me that my sojourn is prolonged, and he attributes the cause of his dejection to darkness, for we know that darkness is called in the Hebrew language kedar. It is indeed a darkness like night that envelops humanity and prevents them from seeing this deception and knowing that all which is most prized by the living, and moreover all which is the opposite, exists only in the conception of the unreflecting, and is in itself nothing. There is no such reality anywhere as obscurity of birth, or illustrious birth, or glory, or splendor, or ancient renown, or present elevation, or power over others, or subjection. Wealth and comfort, poverty and distress, and all the other inequalities of life seem to the ignorant, applying the test of pleasure, vastly different from each other. But to the higher understanding they are all alike; one is not of greater value than the other, because life runs on to the finish with the same speed through all these opposites, and in the situations of either class there remains the same power of choice to live well or badly, through armor on the right hand and on the left, through evil report and good report. Therefore the clear-seeing mind which measures reality will journey on its path without turning, completing its appointed time from its birth to its exit. It is neither softened by pleasures nor beaten down by hardships. But, as is the way with travelers, it keeps advancing always and takes little notice of the views presented. It is the traveler's way to press on to their journey's end, no matter whether they are passing through meadows and cultivated farms, or through wilder and more rugged spots. A pleasant landscape does not detain them, nor a gloomy one slow their speed. So too, that lofty mind will press straight on to its self-imposed end, not turning aside to see anything on the way. It passes through life, but its gaze is fixed on heaven. It is the good steersman directing the ship to some landmark there. But the grosser mind looks down. It bends its energies to bodily pleasures as surely as sheep stoop to their pasture. It lives for gorging and still lower pleasures. It is alienated from the life of God and a stranger to the promise of the Covenants. It recognizes no good but the gratification of the body. It is a mind such as this that walks in darkness and invents all the evil in our life—greed, unchecked passions, unbounded luxury, lust of power, vainglory, the whole mob of moral diseases that invade people's homes. In these vices, one somehow holds closely to another. Where one has entered, all the rest seem to follow, dragging each other in a natural order, just as in a chain, when you have jerked the first link, the others cannot rest, and even the link at the other end feels the motion of the first, which passes through the intervening links by virtue of their connection. So firmly are people's vices linked together by their very nature—when one of them has gained mastery of a soul, the rest of the train follows. If you want a graphic picture of this accursed chain, suppose a man who, because of some special pleasure it gives him, is a victim to his thirst for fame. Then a desire to increase his fortune follows close upon this thirst for fame. He becomes grasping, but only because the first vice leads him on to this. Then this grasping

But we need no longer show in this narrow way the drawback of this life, as if the number of its ills was limited to adulteries, dissensions, and plots. I think we should take the higher and truer view, and say at once that none of that evil in life, which is visible in all its business and in all its pursuits, can have any hold over a man, if he will not put himself in the fetters of this course. The truth of what we say will be clear thus. A man who, seeing through the illusion with the eye of his spirit purged, lifts himself above the struggling world, and, to use the words of the Apostle, slights it all as but dung, in a way exiling himself altogether from human life by his abstinence from marriage, — that man has no fellowship whatever with the sins of mankind, such as avarice, envy, anger, hatred, and everything of the kind. He has an exemption from all this, and is in every way free and at peace; there is nothing in him to provoke his neighbours' envy, because he clutches none of those objects round which envy in this life gathers. He has raised his own life above the world, and prizing virtue as his only precious possession he will pass his days in painless peace and quiet. For virtue is a possession which, though all according to their capacity should share it, yet will be always in abundance for those who thirst after it; unlike the occupation of the lands on this earth, which men divide into sections, and the more they add to the one the more they take from the other, so that the one person's gain is his fellow's loss; whence arise the fights for the lion's share, from men's hatred of being cheated. But the larger owner of this possession is never envied; he who snatches the lion's share does no damage to him who claims equal participation; as each is capable each has this noble longing satisfied, while the wealth of virtues in those who are already occupiers is not exhausted. The man, then, who, with his eyes only on such a life, makes virtue, which has no limit that man can devise, his only treasure, will surely never brook to bend his soul to any of those low courses which multitudes tread. He will not admire earthly riches, or human power, or any of those things which folly seeks. If, indeed, his mind is still pitched so low, he is outside our band of novices, and our words do not apply to him. But if his thoughts are above, walking as it were with God, he will be lifted out of the maze of all these errors; for the predisposing cause of them all, marriage, has not touched him. Now the wish to be before others is the deadly sin of pride, and one would not be far wrong in saying that this is the seed-root of all the thorns of sin; but it is from reasons connected with marriage that this pride mostly begins. To show what I mean, we generally find the grasping man throwing the blame on his nearest kin; the man mad after notoriety and ambition generally makes his family responsible for this sin: he must not be thought inferior to his forefathers; he must be deemed a great man by the generation to come by leaving his children historic records of himself: so also the other maladies of the soul, envy, spite, hatred and such-like, are connected with this cause; they are to be found among those who are eager about the things of this life. He who has fled from it gazes as from some high watchtower on the prospect of humanity, and pities these slaves of vanity for their blindness in setting such a value on bodily well-being. He sees some distinguished person giving himself airs because of his public honours, and wealth, and power, and only laughs at the folly of being so puffed up. He gives to the years of human life the longest number, according to the Psalmist's computation, and then compares this atom-interval with the endless ages, and pities the vain glory of those who excite themselves for such low and petty and perishable things. What, indeed, among the things here is there enviable in that which so many strive for — honour? What is gained by those who win it? The mortal remains mortal whether he is honoured or not. What good does the possessor of many acres gain in the end? Except that the foolish man thinks his own that which never belongs to him, ignorant seemingly in his greed that the earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof, for God is king of all the earth. It is the passion of having which gives men a false title of lordship over that which can never belong to them. The earth, says the wise Preacher, abides for ever Ecclesiastes 1:4, ministering to every generation, first one, then another, that is born upon it; but men, though they are so little even their own masters, that they are brought into life without knowing it by their Maker's will, and before they wish are withdrawn from it, nevertheless in their excessive vanity think that they are her lords; that they, now born, now dying, rule that which remains continually. One who reflecting on this holds cheaply all that mankind prizes, whose only love is the divine life, because all flesh is grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass 1 Peter 1:24, can never care for this grass which today is and tomorrow is not; studying the divine ways, he knows not only that human life has no fixity, but that the entire universe will not keep on its quiet course for ever; he neglects his existence here as an alien and a passing thing; for the Saviour said, Heaven and earth shall pass away Matthew 24:35, the whole of necessity awaits its refashioning. As long as he is in this tabernacle 2 Corinthians 5:4, exhibiting mortality, weighed down with this existence, he laments the lengthening of his sojourn in it; as the Psalmist-poet says in his heavenly songs. Truly, they live in darkness who sojourn in these living tabernacles; wherefore that preacher, groaning at the continuance of this sojourn, says, Woe is me that my sojourn is prolonged, and he attributes the cause of his dejection to darkness; for we know that darkness is called in the Hebrew language kedar. It is indeed a darkness as of the night which envelops mankind, and prevents them seeing this deceit and knowing that all which is most prized by the living, and moreover all which is the reverse, exists only in the conception of the unreflecting, and is in itself nothing; there is no such reality anywhere as obscurity of birth, or illustrious birth, or glory, or splendour, or ancient renown, or present elevation, or power over others, or subjection. Wealth and comfort, poverty and distress, and all the other inequalities of life, seem to the ignorant, applying the test of pleasure, vastly different from each other. But to the higher understanding they are all alike; one is not of greater value than the other; because life runs on to the finish with the same speed through all these opposites, and in the lots of either class there remains the same power of choice to live well or ill, through armour on the right hand and on the left, through evil report and good report 2 Corinthians 6:7. Therefore the clearseeing mind which measures reality will journey on its path without turning, accomplishing its appointed time from its birth to its exit; it is neither softened by the pleasures nor beaten down by the hardships; but, as is the way with travellers, it keeps advancing always, and takes but little notice of the views presented. It is the travellers way to press on to their journey's end, no matter whether they are passing through meadows and cultivated farms, or through wilder and more rugged spots; a smiling landscape does not detain them; nor a gloomy one check their speed. So, too, that lofty mind will press straight on to its self-imposed end, not turning aside to see anything on the way. It passes through life, but its gaze is fixed on heaven; it is the good steersman directing the bark to some landmark there. But the grosser mind looks down; it bends its energies to bodily pleasures as surely as the sheep stoop to their pasture; it lives for gorging and still lower pleasures; it is alienated from the life of God, and a stranger to the promise of the Covenants; it recognizes no good but the gratification of the body. It is a mind such as this that walks in darkness, and invents all the evil in this life of ours; avarice, passions unchecked, unbounded luxury, lust of power, vain- glory, the whole mob of moral diseases that invade men's homes. In these vices, one somehow holds closely to another; where one has entered all the rest seem to follow, dragging each other in a natural order, just as in a chain, when you have jerked the first link, the others cannot rest, and even the link at the other end feels the motion of the first, which passes thence by virtue of their contiguity through the intervening links; so firmly are men's vices linked together by their very nature; when one of them has gained the mastery of a soul, the rest of the train follow. If you want a graphic picture of this accursed chain, suppose a man who because of some special pleasure it gives him is a victim to his thirst for fame; then a desire to increase his fortune follows close upon this thirst for fame; he becomes grasping; but only because the first vice leads him on to this. Then this grasping after money and superiority engenders either anger with his kith and kin, or pride towards his inferiors, or envy of those above him; then hypocrisy comes in after this envy; a soured temper after that; a misanthropical spirit after that; and behind them all a state of condemnation which ends in the dark fires of hell. You see the chain; how all follows from one cherished passion. Seeing, then, that this inseparable train of moral diseases has entered once for all into the world, one single way of escape is pointed out to us in the exhortations of the inspired writings; and that is to separate ourselves from the life which involves this sequence of sufferings. If we haunt Sodom, we cannot escape the rain of fire; nor if one who has fled out of her looks back upon her desolation, can he fail to become a pillar of salt rooted to the spot. We cannot be rid of the Egyptian bondage, unless we leave Egypt, that is, this life that lies under water, and pass, not that Red Sea, but this black and gloomy Sea of life. But suppose we remain in this evil bondage, and, to use the Master's words, the truth shall not have made us free, how can one who seeks a lie and wanders in the maze of this world ever come to the truth? How can one who has surrendered his existence to be chained by nature run away from this captivity? An illustration will make our meaning clearer. A winter torrent, which, impetuous in itself, becomes swollen and carries down beneath its stream trees and boulders and anything that comes in its way, is death and danger to those alone who live along its course; for those who have got well out of its way it rages in vain. Just so, only the man who lives in the turmoil of life has to feel its force; only he has to receive those sufferings which nature's stream, descending in a flood of troubles, must, to be true to its kind, bring to those who journey on its banks. But if a man leaves this torrent, and these proud waters, he will escape from being a prey to the teeth of this life, as the Psalm goes on to say, and, as a bird from the snare, on virtue's wings. This simile, then, of the torrent holds; human life is a tossing and tumultuous stream sweeping down to find its natural level; none of the objects sought for in it last till the seekers are satisfied; all that is carried to them by this stream comes near, just touches them, and passes on; so that the present moment in this impetuous flow eludes enjoyment, for the after-current snatches it from their view. It would be our interest therefore to keep far away from such a stream, lest, engaged on temporal things, we should neglect eternity. How can a man keep for ever anything here, be his love for it never so passionate? Which of life's most cherished objects endures always? What flower of prime? What gift of strength and beauty? What wealth, or fame, or power? They all have their transient bloom, and then melt away into their opposites. Who can continue in life's prime? Whose strength lasts for ever? Has not Nature made the bloom of beauty even more short-lived than the shows of spring? For they blossom in their season, and after withering for a while again revive; after another shedding they are again in leaf, and retain their beauty of today to a late prime. But Nature exhibits the human bloom only in the spring of early life; then she kills it; it is vanished in the frosts of age. All other delights also deceive the bodily eye for a time, and then pass behind the veil of oblivion. Nature's inevitable changes are many; they agonize him whose love is passionate. One way of escape is open: it is, to be attached to none of these things, and to get as far away as possible from the society of this emotional and sensual world; or rather, for a man to go outside the feelings which his own body gives rise to. Then, as he does not live for the flesh, he will not be subject to the troubles of the flesh. But this amounts to living for the spirit only, and imitating all we can the employment of the world of spirits. There they neither marry, nor are given in marriage. Their work and their excellence is to contemplate the Father of all purity, and to beautify the lines of their own character from the Source of all beauty, so far as imitation of It is possible.

We now declare that virginity works alongside and helps us achieve the goal of this lofty passion. In other fields of study, people have created specific practical methods for developing that particular subject. In the same way, I believe, virginity is the practical method in the discipline of the Divine life, giving people the ability to make themselves like spiritual natures. The constant effort in such a pursuit is to prevent the nobility of the soul from being degraded by sensual outbursts, in which the mind no longer keeps its heavenly thoughts and upward focus, but falls down to the emotions that belong to flesh and blood. How can the soul that is chained to the pleasures of the flesh and occupied with merely human desires turn an undistracted eye toward its related intellectual light? This evil, ignorant, and prejudiced tendency toward material things will prevent it. The eyes of pigs, which naturally turn downward, catch no glimpse of the wonders of the sky. In the same way, the soul whose body drags it down can no longer look upon the beauty above. It must focus necessarily on things which, though natural, are low and animal. To look with a free and devoted gaze upon heavenly delights, the soul will turn itself away from earth. It will not even share in the accepted pleasures of ordinary life. It will redirect all its powers of affection from material objects to the intellectual contemplation of immaterial beauty. Virginity of the body is designed to encourage such a disposition of the soul. It aims at creating in the soul a complete forgetfulness of natural emotions. It seeks to prevent the necessity of ever descending to the call of fleshly needs. Once freed from these, the soul runs no risk of becoming, through a growing habit of indulging in what seems to some extent permitted by nature's law, inattentive to and ignorant of Divine and undefiled delights. Purity of the heart, that master of our lives, alone can grasp them.

Now we declare that Virginity is man's fellow-worker and helper in achieving the aim of this lofty passion. In other sciences men have devised certain practical methods for cultivating the particular subject; and so, I take it, virginity is the practical method in the science of the Divine life, furnishing men with the power of assimilating themselves with spiritual natures. The constant endeavour in such a course is to prevent the nobility of the soul from being lowered by those sensual outbreaks, in which the mind no longer maintains its heavenly thoughts and upward gaze, but sinks down to the emotions belonging to the flesh and blood. How can the soul which is riveted to the pleasures of the flesh and busied with merely human longings turn a disengaged eye upon its kindred intellectual light? This evil, ignorant, and prejudiced bias towards material things will prevent it. The eyes of swine, turning naturally downward, have no glimpse of the wonders of the sky; no more can the soul whose body drags it down look any longer upon the beauty above; it must pore perforce upon things which though natural are low and animal. To look with a free devoted gaze upon heavenly delights, the soul will turn itself from earth; it will not even partake of the recognized indulgences of the secular life; it will transfer all its powers of affection from material objects to the intellectual contemplation of immaterial beauty. Virginity of the body is devised to further such a disposition of the soul; it aims at creating in it a complete forgetfulness of natural emotions; it would prevent the necessity of ever descending to the call of fleshly needs. Once freed from such, the soul runs no risk of becoming, through a growing habit of indulging in that which seems to a certain extent conceded by nature's law, inattentive and ignorant of Divine and undefiled delights. Purity of the heart, that master of our lives, alone can capture them.

I believe this is what shows the greatness of the prophet Elijah, and of the one who later appeared in the spirit and power of Elijah, than whom there was none greater among those born of women. If their story teaches any other mystical lesson, this above all is taught by their distinctive way of life: that the person whose thoughts are focused on the invisible must necessarily be separated from all the ordinary affairs of life. Such a person's judgments about the True Good cannot be confused and led astray by the deceptions that come from the senses. Both of them, from their youth onward, exiled themselves from human society, and in a sense from human nature itself, by neglecting the usual kinds of food and drink and living in the desert. Each one's needs were met by whatever food came their way, so that their taste remained simple and unspoiled, just as their ears were free from any distracting noise and their eyes from any wandering glance. In this way they achieved a cloudless calm of soul and were raised to that height of divine favor which Scripture records about each of them. Elijah, for example, became the one who distributed God's earthly gifts. He had authority to close the uses of the sky against sinners at will and to open them to the penitent. John is not said to have performed any miracle, but the gift in him was declared by the One who sees the secrets of a person to be greater than any prophet's. This was so, we may assume, because both of them, from beginning to end, dedicated their hearts to the Lord so completely that they remained unstained by any earthly passion. The love of wife or child, or any other human attachment, did not intrude upon them, and they did not even consider their daily food worthy of anxious thought. They showed themselves to be above any splendid clothing and made do with whatever chance offered them—one clothing himself in goatskins, the other with camel's hair. I believe they would not have reached this loftiness of spirit if marriage had softened them. This is not just history; it is written for our instruction, so that we might direct our lives by theirs. What, then, do we learn from this? This: that the person who longs for union with God must, like those saints, detach his mind from all worldly business. It is impossible for the mind that is poured into many channels to find its way to the knowledge and love of God.

This, I believe, makes the greatness of the prophet Elias, and of him who afterwards appeared in the spirit and power of Elias, than whom of those that are born of women there was none greater Matthew 12:11. If their history conveys any other mystic lesson, surely this above all is taught by their special mode of life, that the man whose thoughts are fixed upon the invisible is necessarily separated from all the ordinary events of life; his judgments as to the True Good cannot be confused and led astray by the deceits arising from the senses. Both, from their youth upwards, exiled themselves from human society, and in a way from human nature, in their neglect of the usual kinds of meat and drink, and their sojourn in the desert. The wants of each were satisfied by the nourishment that came in their way, so that their taste might remain simple and unspoiled, as their ears were free from any distracting noise, and their eyes from any wandering look. Thus they attained a cloudless calm of soul, and were raised to that height of Divine favour which Scripture records of each. Elias, for instance, became the dispenser of God's earthly gifts; he had authority to close at will the uses of the sky against the sinners and to open them to the penitent. John is not said indeed to have done any miracle; but the gift in him was pronounced by Him Who sees the secrets of a man greater than any prophet's. This was so, we may presume, because both, from beginning to end, so dedicated their hearts to the Lord that they were unsullied by any earthly passion; because the love of wife or child, or any other human call, did not intrude upon them, and they did not even think their daily sustenance worthy of anxious thought; because they showed themselves to be above any magnificence of dress, and made shift with that which chance offered them, one clothing himself in goat-skins, the other with camel's hair. It is my belief that they would not have reached to this loftiness of spirit, if marriage had softened them. This is not simple history only; it is written for our admonition 1 Corinthians 10:11, that we might direct our lives by theirs. What, then, do we learn thereby? This: that the man who longs for union with God must, like those saints, detach his mind from all worldly business. It is impossible for the mind which is poured into many channels to win its way to the knowledge and the love of God.

An example will help clarify what we're teaching about this. Imagine a stream flowing from a spring that divides into many different channels. As long as it continues this way, it will be useless for farming, because when the water spreads out, each individual stream becomes small and weak, and therefore slow. But if someone gathered these scattered and widely spread streams back into a single channel, he would have a full and unified stream to supply what life needs. In the same way, the human mind (it seems to me), as long as it spreads itself in every direction chasing sensory pleasures, has no real power to make its way toward the Real Good. But once you call it back and gather it into itself, so that it begins to move without scattering and wandering toward the activity that is innate and natural to it, it will find no obstacle in rising to higher things and grasping realities. We often see water contained in a pipe shooting upward because of the constraining force that won't let it leak—this happens despite water's natural tendency to fall downward. In the same way, the human mind, enclosed in the compact channel of habitual continence and having no side exits, will be raised by its natural capacity for movement to an exalted love. In fact, its Maker ordained that it should always move, and stopping is impossible for it. When it is prevented from using this power on trivial things, it cannot help but speed toward the truth, since all improper exits are closed. When travelers face many turnings, we see they can keep to the direct route once they've learned the other roads are wrong and so avoid them. The more they stay out of these wrong directions, the more they preserve the straight course. In the same way, the mind turning from vanities will recognize the truth. The great prophets we have mentioned seem to teach this lesson: to entangle ourselves with none of the objects of this world's striving. Marriage is one of these, or rather it is the primary root of all striving after vanities.

An illustration will make our teaching on this subject clearer. Imagine a stream flowing from a spring and dividing itself off into a number of accidental channels. As long as it proceeds so, it will be useless for any purpose of agriculture, the dissipation of its waters making each particular current small and feeble, and therefore slow. But if one were to mass these wandering and widely dispersed rivulets again into one single channel, he would have a full and collected stream for the supplies which life demands. Just so the human mind (so it seems to me), as long as its current spreads itself in all directions over the pleasures of the sense, has no power that is worth the naming of making its way towards the Real Good; but once call it back and collect it upon itself, so that it may begin to move without scattering and wandering towards the activity which is congenital and natural to it, it will find no obstacle in mounting to higher things, and in grasping realities. We often see water contained in a pipe bursting upwards through this constraining force, which will not let it leak; and this, in spite of its natural gravitation: in the same way, the mind of man, enclosed in the compact channel of an habitual continence, and not having any side issues, will be raised by virtue of its natural powers of motion to an exalted love. In fact, its Maker ordained that it should always move, and to stop is impossible to it; when therefore it is prevented employing this power upon trifles, it cannot be but that it will speed toward the truth, all improper exits being closed. In the case of many turnings we see travellers can keep to the direct route, when they have learned that the other roads are wrong, and so avoid them; the more they keep out of these wrong directions, the more they will preserve the straight course; in like manner the mind in turning from vanities will recognize the truth. The great prophets, then, whom we have mentioned seem to teach this lesson, viz. to entangle ourselves with none of the objects of this world's effort; marriage is one of these, or rather it is the primal root of all striving after vanities.

Let no one think that we are belittling marriage as an institution. We are fully aware that it is not excluded from God's blessing. But since the common instincts of humanity argue sufficiently on its behalf—instincts that naturally incline people toward marriage for the procreation of children, while virginity in a way resists this natural impulse—it is unnecessary to compose a formal exhortation to marriage. We present the pleasure of it instead as a most powerful advocate on its behalf. However, despite this, there may still be some need for such a treatise, because of those who distort the teaching of the Church. Such persons have their conscience seared with a hot iron, as the Apostle expresses it in 1 Timothy 4:2. This is very true, considering that by abandoning the guidance of the Holy Spirit for the doctrines of devils, they have certain ulcers and blisters stamped upon their hearts, declaring God's creatures abominable and calling them foul, seductive, mischievous, and so on. But what have I to do with judging those who are outside, as the Apostle asks in 1 Corinthians 5:12? Truly those persons are outside the assembly in which the words of our mysteries are spoken. They are not established under God's roof, but in the dwelling place of the Evil One. They are taken captive by him at his will, as 2 Timothy 2:26 says. They therefore do not understand that all virtue is found in moderation, and that any deviation to either side of it becomes a vice. In fact, he who grasps the middle point between doing too little and doing too much has discovered the distinction between vice and virtue. Examples will make this clearer. Cowardice and recklessness are two recognized vices opposed to each other—one the defect, the other the excess of confidence—and between them lies courage. Again, piety is neither atheism nor superstition; it is equally impious to deny God and to believe in many gods. Is there need of more examples to demonstrate this principle? The man who avoids both stinginess and wastefulness will by this avoidance of extremes develop the moral habit of generosity, for generosity is the quality that neither inclines to spend vast and useless sums at random, nor to be tightfisted in necessary expenses. We need not examine every good quality in detail. Reason has established in all of them that virtue is a middle state between two extremes. Sobriety itself is therefore a middle state, and clearly involves the two deviations on either side toward vice. He who lacks firmness of soul and is so easily defeated in the struggle with pleasure that he never even approaches the path of a virtuous and sober life slides into shameful indulgence. Meanwhile, he who goes beyond the safe ground of sobriety and overshoots the moderation of this virtue falls as if from a precipice into the doctrines of devils, having his conscience seared with a hot iron. In declaring marriage abominable he brands himself with such reproaches, for if the tree is corrupt, as the Gospel says, the fruit of the tree will be like it. If a man is the offspring and fruit of the tree of marriage, reproaches cast on that turn upon him who casts them. These persons, then, are like branded criminals already; their conscience is covered with the scars of this unnatural teaching. But our view of marriage is this: while the pursuit of heavenly things should be a man's first concern, yet if he can use the benefits of marriage with sobriety and moderation, he need not reject this way of serving society. An example might be found in the patriarch Isaac. He married Rebecca when he was past the prime of his youth and his vigor was nearly spent, so that his marriage was not an act of passion, but was for the sake of God's blessing that should rest upon his descendants. He lived with her until the birth of their children, and then, closing the channels of the senses, lived entirely for the unseen realm. This is what seems to be meant by the mention in his history of the patriarch's dimness of eyes. But let that be interpreted by those who are skilled in reading these meanings, and let us continue with the flow of our discussion. What then were we saying? That in cases where it is possible both to be faithful to the divine love and to embrace marriage, there is no reason for rejecting this natural arrangement and misrepresenting as abominable that which is honorable. Let us take again our illustration of the water and the spring. Whenever the farmer, in order to irrigate a particular spot, is directing the stream there but needs a small outlet before it arrives, he will allow only as much to flow into that outlet as is adequate to supply the need and can then easily be rejoined with the main stream. If, as an inexperienced and careless manager, he opens too wide a channel, there will be danger of the whole stream leaving its direct course and pouring itself sideways. In the same way, if—since life does require a continuous succession of generations—a man handles this need so as to give spiritual things the first priority, and because of the shortness of time indulges sexual passion only sparingly and keeps it under control, that man would exemplify the character of the prudent farmer to which the Apostle exhorts us. He will not be overly calculating about the details of paying these minor debts to nature, but the long hours of his prayers will secure the purity that is the keynote of his life. He will always fear lest through this kind of indulgence he may become nothing but flesh and blood, for in them God's Spirit does not dwell. He who is of such weak character that he cannot make a courageous stand against nature's impulse should keep himself very far away from such temptations, rather than enter into a battle that is beyond his strength. There is no small danger for him lest, deceived in his assessment of pleasure, he should think that there exists no other good but that which is enjoyed along with some sensual feeling, and, turning altogether from the love of immaterial delights, should become entirely fleshly, seeking his pleasure always only there, so that his character will be that of a pleasure-lover, not a God-lover. It is not every man's ability, owing to weakness of nature, to find the right balance in these matters. There is a danger of being carried far beyond it and becoming stuck fast in the deep mire, to use the Psalmist's words. It would therefore be in our interest, as our discussion has been suggesting, to pass through life without experiencing these temptations, lest under the cover of lawful indulgence passion should gain entry into the fortress of the soul.

Let no one think however that herein we depreciate marriage as an institution. We are well aware that it is not a stranger to God's blessing. But since the common instincts of mankind can plead sufficiently on its behalf, instincts which prompt by a spontaneous bias to take the high road of marriage for the procreation of children, whereas Virginity in a way thwarts this natural impulse, it is a superfluous task to compose formally an Exhortation to marriage. We put forward the pleasure of it instead, as a most doughty champion on its behalf. It may be however, notwithstanding this, that there is some need of such a treatise, occasioned by those who travesty the teaching of the Church. Such persons 1 Timothy 4:2 have their conscience seared with a hot iron, as the Apostle expresses it; and very truly too, considering that, deserting the guidance of the Holy Spirit for the doctrines of devils, they have some ulcers and blisters stamped upon their hearts, abominating God's creatures, and calling them foul, seducing, mischievous, and so on. But what have I to do to judge them that are without 1 Corinthians 5:12? asks the Apostle. Truly those persons are outside the Court in which the words of our mysteries are spoken; they are not installed under God's roof, but in the monastery of the Evil One. They are taken captive by him at his will 2 Timothy 2:16. They therefore do not understand that all virtue is found in moderation, and that any declension to either side of it becomes a vice. He, in fact, who grasps the middle point between doing too little and doing too much has hit the distinction between vice and virtue. Instances will make this clearer. Cowardice and audacity are two recognized vices opposed to each other; the one the defect, the other the excess of confidence; between them lies courage. Again, piety is neither atheism nor superstition; it is equally impious to deny a God and to believe in many gods. Is there need of more examples to bring this principle home? The man who avoids both meanness and prodigality will by this shunning of extremes form the moral habit of liberality; for liberality is the thing which is neither inclined to spend at random vast and useless sums, nor yet to be closely calculating in necessary expenses. We need not go into details in the case of all good qualities. Reason, in all of them, has established virtue to be a middle state between two extremes. Sobriety itself therefore is a middle state, and manifestly involves the two declensions on either side towards vice; he, that is, who is wanting in firmness of soul, and is so easily worsted in the combat with pleasure as never even to have approached the path of a virtuous and sober life, slides into shameful indulgence; while he who goes beyond the safe ground of sobriety and overshoots the moderation of this virtue, falls as it were from a precipice into the doctrines of devils, having his conscience seared with a hot iron. In declaring marriage abominable he brands himself with such reproaches; for if the tree is corrupt (as the Gospel says), the fruit also of the tree will be like it; if a man is the shoot and fruitage of the tree of marriage, reproaches cast on that turn upon him who casts them. These persons, then, are like branded criminals already; their conscience is covered with the stripes of this unnatural teaching. But our view of marriage is this; that, while the pursuit of heavenly things should be a man's first care, yet if he can use the advantages of marriage with sobriety and moderation, he need not despise this way of serving the state. An example might be found in the patriarch Isaac. He married Rebecca when he was past the flower of his age and his prime was nearly spent, so that his marriage was not the deed of passion, but because of God's blessing that should be upon his seed. He cohabited with her till the birth of her only children, and then, closing the channels of the senses, lived wholly for the Unseen; for this is what seems to be meant by the mention in his history of the dimness of the Patriarch's eyes. But let that be as those think who are skilled in reading these meanings, and let us proceed with the continuity of our discourse. What then, were we saying? That in the cases where it is possible at once to be true to the diviner love, and to embrace wedlock, there is no reason for setting aside this dispensation of nature and misrepresenting as abominable that which is honourable. Let us take again our illustration of the water and the spring. Whenever the husbandman, in order to irrigate a particular spot, is bringing the stream there, but there is need before it gets there of a small outlet, he will allow only so much to escape into that outlet as is adequate to supply the demand, and can then easily be blended again with the main stream. If, as an inexperienced and easy-going steward, he opens too wide a channel, there will be danger of the whole stream quitting its direct bed and pouring itself sideways. In the same way, if (as life does need a mutual succession) a man so treats this need as to give spiritual things the first thought, and because of the shortness of the time indulges but sparingly the sexual passion and keeps it under restraint, that man would realize the character of the prudent husband man to which the Apostle exhorts us. About the details of paying these trifling debts of nature he will not be over-calculating, but the long hours of his prayers will secure the purity which is the key-note of his life. He will always fear lest by this kind of indulgence he may become nothing but flesh and blood; for in them God's Spirit does not dwell. He who is of so weak a character that he cannot make a manful stand against nature's impulse had better keep himself very far away from such temptations, rather than descend into a combat which is above his strength. There is no small danger for him lest, cajoled in the valuation of pleasure, he should think that there exists no other good but that which is enjoyed along with some sensual emotion, and, turning altogether from the love of immaterial delights, should become entirely of the flesh, seeking always his pleasure only there, so that his character will be a Pleasure-lover, not a God-lover. It is not every man's gift, owing to weakness of nature, to hit the due proportion in these matters; there is a danger of being carried far beyond it, and sticking fast in the deep mire, to use the Psalmist's words. It would therefore be for our interest, as our discourse has been suggesting, to pass through life without a trial of these temptations, lest under cover of the excuse of lawful indulgence passion should gain an entrance into the citadel of the soul.

Custom is indeed hard to resist in everything. It has enormous power to attract and seduce the soul. When a person becomes fixed in a particular attitude, habit creates in him a certain perception of what is good. Nothing is naturally so vile that it cannot come to be thought both desirable and praiseworthy once it becomes fashionable. Consider humanity now living on earth. There are many nations, and their ambitions are not all the same. The standard of beauty and honor differs in each one, with the custom of each regulating their enthusiasm and goals. This difference appears not only among nations, where the pursuits of one are not respected by another, but even within the same nation, the same city, and the same family. We can see in these groups as well much difference existing because of customary feeling. Thus brothers born from the same womb are separated widely from each other in their life goals. This is not surprising, considering that each individual person does not generally keep the same opinion about the same thing, but changes it as custom influences him. Not to stray far from our present subject, we have known people who showed themselves devoted to chastity throughout the early years of puberty, but in taking pleasures that people consider legitimate and allowable, they make them the starting point of an impure life. Once they have admitted these temptations, all the forces of their feeling are turned in that direction, and, to return to our illustration of the stream, they let it rush from the divine channel into low material channels and make within themselves a broad path for passion. The stream of their love leaves the abandoned channel of the higher way dry and flows abroad in indulgence. It would be good, then, we believe, for the weaker brothers to flee to virginity as into an impregnable fortress, rather than to descend into the course of life's consequences and invite temptations to do their worst upon them, entangling themselves in those things which through the lusts of the flesh war against the law of our mind. It would be good for them to consider that in this they risk not broad acres, or wealth, or any other of this life's prizes, but the hope which has been their guide. It is impossible for one who has turned to the world and feels its anxieties, and engages his heart in the wish to please people, to fulfill that first and great commandment of the Master: You shall love God with all your heart and with all your strength. How can he fulfill that when he divides his heart between God and the world, and exhausts the love which he owes to God alone in human affections? He that is unmarried cares for the things of the Lord; but he that is married cares for the things that are of the world. If the struggle with pleasure seems wearisome, nevertheless let everyone take heart. Habit will surely produce, even in the seemingly most restless, a feeling of pleasure through the very effort of their perseverance. That pleasure will be of the noblest and purest kind, which the intelligent may well fall in love with, rather than allowing themselves, with goals narrowed by the lowness of their objects, to be estranged from the true greatness which goes beyond all thought.

Custom is indeed in everything hard to resist. It possesses an enormous power of attracting and seducing the soul. In the cases where a man has got into a fixed state of sentiment, a certain imagination of the good is created in him by this habit; and nothing is so naturally vile but it may come to be thought both desirable and laudable, once it has got into the fashion. Take mankind now living on the earth. There are many nations, and their ambitions are not all the same. The standard of beauty and of honour is different in each, the custom of each regulating their enthusiasm and their aims. This unlikeness is seen not only among nations where the pursuits of the one are in no repute with the other, but even in the same nation, and the same city, and the same family; we may see in those aggregates also much difference existing owing to customary feeling. Thus brothers born from the same throe are separated widely from each other in the aims of life. Nor is this to be wondered at, considering that each single man does not generally keep to the same opinion about the same thing, but alters it as fashion influences him. Not to go far from our present subject, we have known those who have shown themselves to be in love with chastity all through the early years of puberty; but in taking the pleasures which men think legitimate and allowable they make them the starting-point of an impure life, and when once they have admitted these temptations, all the forces of their feeling are turned in that direction, and, to take again our illustration of the stream, they let it rush from the diviner channel into low material channels, and make within themselves a broad path for passion; so that the stream of their love leaves dry the abandoned channel of the higher way and flows abroad in indulgence. It would be well then, we take it, for the weaker brethren to fly to virginity as into an impregnable fortress, rather than to descend into the career of life's consequences and invite temptations to do their worst upon them, entangling themselves in those things which through the lusts of the flesh war against the law of our mind; it would be well for them to consider that herein they risk not broad acres, or wealth, or any other of this life's prizes, but the hope which has been their guide. It is impossible that one who has turned to the world and feels its anxieties, and engages his heart in the wish to please men, can fulfil that first and great commandment of the Master, You shall love God with all your heart and with all your strength Matthew 22:37. How can he fulfil that, when he divides his heart between God and the world, and exhausts the love which he owes to Him alone in human affections? He that is unmarried cares for the things of the Lord; but he that is married cares for the things that are of the world. If the combat with pleasure seems wearisome, nevertheless let all take heart. Habit will not fail to produce, even in the seemingly most fretful, a feeling of pleasure through the very effort of their perseverance; and that pleasure will be of the noblest and purest kind; which the intelligent may well be enamoured of, rather than allow themselves, with aims narrowed by the lowness of their objects, to be estranged from the true greatness which goes beyond all thought.

What words could possibly express the greatness of the loss that comes from falling away from the possession of real goodness? What supreme power of thought would be needed! Who could sketch even in outline what speech cannot tell and the mind cannot grasp? On one hand, if a person has kept the eye of his heart so clear that he can somehow see the promise of our Lord's Beatitudes realized, he will declare all human speech powerless to represent what he has understood. On the other hand, if a person living in the atmosphere of material pleasures has the weakness of passion spreading like a film over the sharp vision of his soul, all forceful expression will be wasted on him. It makes no difference whether you understate or magnify a miracle to those who have no ability to perceive it. Just as with sunlight—if someone has never seen it from the day of his birth, all efforts to describe it in words are completely wasted; you cannot make the splendor of the ray shine through his ears. In the same way, to see the beauty of the true and intellectual light, each person needs eyes of his own. The one who by a gift of Divine inspiration can see it keeps his ecstasy unexpressed in the depths of his consciousness, while the one who does not see it cannot be made to know even the greatness of his loss. How could he? This good escapes his perception, and it cannot be represented to him. It is unspeakable and cannot be described. We have not learned the special language that expresses this beauty. An example of what we want to say does not exist in the world; a comparison for it would at least be very difficult to find. Who compares the sun to a tiny spark? Or the vast deep to a drop? Yet that tiny drop and that small spark bear the same relation to the deep and to the sun as any beautiful object people admire does to that real beauty in the features of the First Good, which we glimpse beyond any other good. What words could be invented to show the greatness of this loss to the one who suffers it? The great David seems to me to express perfectly the impossibility of doing this. He has been lifted by the power of the Spirit out of himself and sees in a blessed state of ecstasy the boundless and incomprehensible Beauty. He sees it as fully as a mortal can who has left behind his fleshly coverings and entered, by the power of thought alone, into contemplation of the spiritual and intellectual world. In his longing to speak a word worthy of the sight, he bursts forth with that cry which all repeat: "Every man a liar!" I take that to mean that any person who entrusts to language the task of presenting the ineffable Light is really and truly a liar—not because he hates the truth, but because of the weakness of his instrument for expressing what he thinks. The visible beauty we encounter in this life, showing glimpses of itself in inanimate objects or living creatures through a certain excellence of color, can be adequately admired by our power of aesthetic feeling. It can be illustrated and made known to others through description. It can be seen drawn in language as in a picture. Even a perfect type of such beauty does not defeat our understanding. But how can language illustrate when it finds no media for its sketch—no color, no contour, no majestic size, no perfection of feature, nor any other commonplace of art? The Beauty which is invisible and formless, which lacks qualities and is far removed from everything we recognize in bodies by the eye, can never be made known by the features that require nothing but the perceptions of our senses to be grasped. Yet we must not despair of winning this object of our love, though it does seem too high for our understanding. The more reason shows the greatness of this thing we are seeking, the higher we must lift our thoughts and excite them with the greatness of that object, and we must fear to lose our share in that transcendent Good. There is indeed no small danger that, since we cannot base our understanding of it on any knowable qualities, we might slip away from it altogether because of its very height and mystery. We consider it necessary, therefore, because of this weakness of the thinking faculty, to lead it toward the Unseen by stages through the knowledge gained by the senses. Our understanding of the situation is as follows.

What words indeed could possibly express the greatness of that loss in falling away from the possession of real goodness? What consummate power of thought would have to be employed! Who could produce even in outline that which speech cannot tell, nor the mind grasp? On the one hand, if a man has kept the eye of his heart so clear that he can in a way behold the promise of our Lord's Beatitudes realized, he will condemn all human utterance as powerless to represent that which he has apprehended. On the other hand, if a man from the atmosphere of material indulgences has the weakness of passion spreading like a film over the keen vision of his soul, all force of expression will be wasted upon him; for it is all one whether you understate or whether you magnify a miracle to those who have no power whatever of perceiving it. Just as, in the case of the sunlight, on one who has never from the day of his birth seen it, all efforts at translating it into words are quite thrown away; you cannot make the splendour of the ray shine through his ears; in like manner, to see the beauty of the true and intellectual light, each man has need of eyes of his own; and he who by a gift of Divine inspiration can see it retains his ecstasy unexpressed in the depths of his consciousness; while he who sees it not cannot be made to know even the greatness of his loss. How should he? This good escapes his perception, and it cannot be represented to him; it is unspeakable, and cannot be delineated. We have not learned the peculiar language expressive of this beauty. An example of what we want to say does not exist in the world; a comparison for it would at least be very difficult to find. Who compares the Sun to a little spark? Or the vast Deep to a drop? And that tiny drop and that diminutive spark bear the same relation to the Deep and to the Sun, as any beautiful object of man's admiration does to that real beauty on the features of the First Good, of which we catch the glimpse beyond any other good. What words could be invented to show the greatness of this loss to him who suffers it? Well does the great David seem to me to express the impossibility of doing this. He has been lifted by the power of the Spirit out of himself, and sees in a blessed state of ecstacy the boundless and incomprehensible Beauty; he sees it as fully as a mortal can see who has quitted his fleshly envelopments and entered, by the mere power of thought, upon the contemplation of the spiritual and intellectual world, and in his longing to speak a word worthy of the spectacle he bursts forth with that cry, which all re-echo, Every man a liar! I take that to mean that any man who entrusts to language the task of presenting the ineffable Light is really and truly a liar; not because of any hatred on his part of the truth, but because of the feebleness of his instrument for expressing the thing thought of. The visible beauty to be met with in this life of ours, showing glimpses of itself, whether in inanimate objects or in animate organisms in a certain choiceness of color, can be adequately admired by our power of aesthetic feeling. It can be illustrated and made known to others by description; it can be seen drawn in the language as in a picture. Even a perfect type of such beauty does not baffle our conception. But how can language illustrate when it finds no media for its sketch, no color, no contour, no majestic size, no faultlessness of feature; nor any other commonplace of art? The Beauty which is invisible and formless, which is destitute of qualities and far removed from everything which we recognize in bodies by the eye, can never be made known by the traits which require nothing but the perceptions of our senses in order to be grasped. Not that we are to despair of winning this object of our love, though it does seem too high for our comprehension. The more reason shows the greatness of this thing which we are seeking, the higher we must lift our thoughts and excite them with the greatness of that object; and we must fear to lose our share in that transcendent Good. There is indeed no small amount of danger lest, as we can base the apprehension of it on no knowable qualities, we should slip away from it altogether because of its very height and mystery. We deem it necessary therefore, owing to this weakness of the thinking faculty, to lead it towards the Unseen by stages through the cognizances of the senses. Our conception of the case is as follows.

People who take only a surface-level and unreflective view of things observe only the outward appearance of whatever they encounter—for example, of a person—and then give him no further thought. The view they have gotten of his physical body is enough to make them think they know everything about him. But the penetrating and scientific mind will not trust to the eyes alone the task of measuring reality. It will not stop at appearances, nor count what is not seen among the unreal. It inquires into the qualities of the person's soul. It examines those characteristics which have been shaped by his bodily constitution, both in combination and separately—first separately, through analysis, and then in that living combination which makes up the personality of the subject. Regarding the inquiry into the nature of beauty, we see again that the person of half-developed intelligence, when he observes an object that is bathed in the glow of an apparent beauty, thinks that object is beautiful in its essence, no matter what it is that captivates him with visual pleasure. He will not go deeper into the matter. But the other person, whose mind's eye is clear and who can examine such appearances, will disregard those elements which are merely the material upon which the Form of Beauty works. To him they will be only the ladder by which he climbs to the vision of that Intellectual Beauty, in accordance with their share in which all other beauties receive their existence and their name. But for the majority, I believe, who live their entire lives with such dull thinking faculties, it is difficult to perform this feat of mental analysis and to distinguish the material vehicle from the immanent beauty, and thereby to grasp the actual nature of the Beautiful. If anyone wants to know the exact source of all the false and harmful ideas about it, he would find it in nothing other than this: the absence, in the soul's faculties of feeling, of that precise training which would enable them to distinguish between true Beauty and its opposite. Because of this, people give up all search for true Beauty. Some slip into mere sensuality. Others direct their desires toward lifeless metallic coin. Others limit their imagination of the beautiful to worldly honors, fame, and power. There is another class that is enthusiastic about art and science. The most degraded make their gluttony the test of what is good. But the person who turns from all coarser thoughts and all passionate longings after what is apparent, and explores the nature of the beauty that is simple, immaterial, formless, would never make such a mistake when he has to choose among all the objects of desire. He would never be so misled by these attractions as to fail to see the transient character of their pleasures and to achieve an utter contempt for every one of them. This, then, is the path to lead us to the discovery of the Beautiful. All other objects that attract human love, no matter how fashionable they are, no matter how highly they are prized and how eagerly they are embraced, must be left below us as too low and too fleeting to employ the powers of loving which we possess. Not that those powers are to be locked up within us unused and motionless, but only that they must first be cleansed from all lower longings. Then we must lift them to that height which sense can never reach. Admiration even of the beauty of the heavens, and of the dazzling sunbeams, and indeed of any beautiful phenomenon, will then cease. The beauty noticed there will be only like a hand to lead us to the love of the supernal Beauty whose glory the heavens and the firmament declare, and whose secret the whole creation sings. The climbing soul, leaving behind all that she has already grasped as too narrow for her needs, will thus grasp the idea of that magnificence which is exalted far above the heavens. But how can anyone reach this whose ambitions creep below? How can anyone fly up into the heavens who does not have the wings of heaven and is not already buoyant and lofty-minded by reason of a heavenly calling? Few can be such strangers to the evangelical mysteries as not to know that there is only one vehicle on which the human soul can mount into the heavens: the self-made likeness in himself to the descending Dove, whose wings David the Prophet also longed for. This is the allegorical name used in Scripture for the power of the Holy Spirit, whether because not a drop of gall is found in that bird, or because it cannot bear any foul smell, as close observers tell us. Therefore the person who keeps away from all bitterness and all the foul odors of the flesh, and raises himself on the aforesaid wings above all low earthly ambitions, or even more than that, above the whole universe itself, will be the one to find that which is alone worth loving, and to become himself as beautiful as the Beauty which he has touched and entered, and to be made bright and luminous himself in communion with the real Light. We are told by those who have studied the subject that those gleams which follow each other so rapidly through the air at night and which some call shooting stars are nothing but the air itself streaming into the upper regions of the sky under the force of certain blasts. They say that the fiery track is traced along the sky when those blasts ignite in the ether. In the same way, then, as this air around the earth is forced upward by some blast and changes into the pure splendor of the ether, so the mind of man leaves this murky, muddy world, and under the force of the Spirit becomes pure and luminous in contact with the true and supernal Purity. In such an atmosphere it even itself emits light and is so filled with radiance that it becomes itself a Light, according to the promise of our Lord that the righteous should shine forth as the sun. We see this even here, in the case of a mirror, or a sheet of water, or any smooth surface that can reflect the light. When they receive the sunbeam they themselves beam, but they would not do this if any stain marred their pure and shining surface. We shall become, then, as the light, in our nearness to Christ's true light, if we leave this dark atmosphere of the earth and dwell above. And we shall be light, as our Lord says somewhere to His disciples, if the true Light that shines in the darkness comes down even to us—unless, that is, any filth of sin spreading over our hearts should dim the brightness of our light. Perhaps these examples have led us gradually on to the discovery that we can be changed into something better than ourselves, and it has been proved as well that this union of the soul with the incorruptible Deity can be accomplished in no other way except by herself attaining through her virgin state the utmost purity possible—a state which, being like God, will enable her to grasp that to which it is like, while she places herself like a mirror beneath the purity of God and shapes her own beauty at the touch and the sight of the Archetype of all beauty. Take a character strong enough to turn from all that is human, from persons, from wealth, from the pursuits of art and science, even from whatever in moral practice and in legislation is viewed as right (for still in all of them error in the understanding of the Beautiful comes in, with sense being the criterion). Such a character will feel as a passionate lover only toward that Beauty which has no source but Itself, which is not beautiful at one particular time or relatively only, which is Beautiful from, and through, and in itself, not beautiful at one moment and in the next ceasing to be so, above all increase and addition, incapable of change and alteration. I venture to affirm that, to one who has cleansed all the powers of his being from every form of vice, the Beauty which is essential, the source of every beauty and every good, will become visible. The physical eye, purged from its blinding discharge, can clearly discern objects even in the distant sky. So to the soul by virtue of her innocence there comes the power of taking in that Light, and the real Virginity, the real zeal for chastity, ends in no other goal than this: the power thereby of seeing God. No one in fact is so mentally blind as not to understand without being told that the God of the Universe is the only absolute, and primal, and unrivaled Beauty and Goodness. All, perhaps, know that, but there are those who, as might have been expected, wish besides this to discover, if possible, a process by which we may be actually guided to it. Well, the Divine books are full of such instruction for our guidance, and besides that many of the Saints cast the radiance of their own lives, like lamps, upon the path for those who are walking with God. But each may gather in abundance for himself suggestions toward this end out of either Covenant in the inspired writings. The Prophets and the Law are full of them, and also the Gospel and the Traditions of the Apostles. What we ourselves have concluded in following the thoughts of those inspired utterances is this.

Now those who take a superficial and unreflecting view of things observe the outward appearance of anything they meet, e.g. of a man, and then trouble themselves no more about him. The view they have taken of the bulk of his body is enough to make them think that they know all about him. But the penetrating and scientific mind will not trust to the eyes alone the task of taking the measure of reality; it will not stop at appearances, nor count that which is not seen among unrealities. It inquires into the qualities of the man's soul. It takes those of its characteristics which have been developed by his bodily constitution, both in combination and singly; first singly, by analysis, and then in that living combination which makes the personality of the subject. As regards the inquiry into the nature of beauty, we see, again, that the man of half-grown intelligence, when he observes an object which is bathed in the glow of a seeming beauty, thinks that that object is in its essence beautiful, no matter what it is that so prepossesses him with the pleasure of the eye. He will not go deeper into the subject. But the other, whose mind's eye is clear, and who can inspect such appearances, will neglect those elements which are the material only upon which the Form of Beauty works; to him they will be but the ladder by which he climbs to the prospect of that Intellectual Beauty, in accordance with their share in which all other beauties get their existence and their name. But for the majority, I take it, who live all their lives with such obtuse faculties of thinking, it is a difficult thing to perform this feat of mental analysis and of discriminating the material vehicle from the immanent beauty, and thereby of grasping the actual nature of the Beautiful; and if any one wants to know the exact source of all the false and pernicious conceptions of it, he would find it in nothing else but this, viz. the absence, in the soul's faculties of feeling, of that exact training which would enable them to distinguish between true Beauty and the reverse. Owing to this men give up all search after the true Beauty. Some slide into mere sensuality. Others incline in their desires to dead metallic coin. Others limit their imagination of the beautiful to worldly honours, fame, and power. There is another class which is enthusiastic about art and science. The most debased make their gluttony the test of what is good. But he who turns from all grosser thoughts and all passionate longings after what is seeming, and explores the nature of the beauty which is simple, immaterial, formless, would never make a mistake like that when he has to choose between all the objects of desire; he would never be so misled by these attractions as not to see the transient character of their pleasures and not to win his way to an utter contempt for every one of them. This, then, is the path to lead us to the discovery of the Beautiful. All other objects that attract men's love, be they never so fashionable, be they prized never so much and embraced never so eagerly, must be left below us, as too low, too fleeting, to employ the powers of loving which we possess; not indeed that those powers are to be locked up within us unused and motionless; but only that they must first be cleansed from all lower longings; then we must lift them to that height to which sense can never reach. Admiration even of the beauty of the heavens, and of the dazzling sunbeams, and, indeed, of any fair phenomenon, will then cease. The beauty noticed there will be but as the hand to lead us to the love of the supernal Beauty whose glory the heavens and the firmament declare, and whose secret the whole creation sings. The climbing soul, leaving all that she has grasped already as too narrow for her needs, will thus grasp the idea of that magnificence which is exalted far above the heavens. But how can any one reach to this, whose ambitions creep below? How can any one fly up into the heavens, who has not the wings of heaven and is not already buoyant and lofty-minded by reason of a heavenly calling? Few can be such strangers to evangelic mysteries as not to know that there is but one vehicle on which man's soul can mount into the heavens, viz. the self-made likeness in himself to the descending Dove, whose wings David the Prophet also longed for. This is the allegorical name used in Scripture for the power of the Holy Spirit; whether it be because not a drop of gall is found in that bird, or because it cannot bear any noisome smell, as close observers tell us. He therefore who keeps away from all bitterness and all the noisome effluvia of the flesh, and raises himself on the aforesaid wings above all low earthly ambitions, or, more than that, above the whole universe itself, will be the man to find that which is alone worth loving, and to become himself as beautiful as the Beauty which he has touched and entered, and to be made bright and luminous himself in the communion of the real Light. We are told by those who have studied the subject, that those gleams which follow each other so fast through the air at night and which some call shooting stars, are nothing but the air itself streaming into the upper regions of the sky under stress of some particular blasts. They say that the fiery track is traced along the sky when those blasts ignite in the ether. In like manner, then, as this air round the earth is forced upwards by some blast and changes into the pure splendour of the ether, so the mind of man leaves this murky miry world, and under the stress of the spirit becomes pure and luminous in contact with the true and supernal Purity; in such an atmosphere it even itself emits light, and is so filled with radiance, that it becomes itself a Light, according to the promise of our Lord that the righteous should shine forth as the sun Matthew 13:43. We see this even here, in the case of a mirror, or a sheet of water, or any smooth surface that can reflect the light; when they receive the sunbeam they beam themselves; but they would not do this if any stain marred their pure and shining surface. We shall become then as the light, in our nearness to Christ's true light, if we leave this dark atmosphere of the earth and dwell above; and we shall be light, as our Lord says somewhere to His disciples, if the true Light that shines in the dark comes down even to us; unless, that is, any foulness of sin spreading over our hearts should dim the brightness of our light. Perhaps these examples have led us gradually on to the discovery that we can be changed into something better than ourselves; and it has been proved as well that this union of the soul with the incorruptible Deity can be accomplished in no other way but by herself attaining by her virgin state to the utmost purity possible — a state which, being like God, will enable her to grasp that to which it is like, while she places herself like a mirror beneath the purity of God, and moulds her own beauty at the touch and the sight of the Archetype of all beauty. Take a character strong enough to turn from all that is human, from persons, from wealth, from the pursuits of Art and Science, even from whatever in moral practice and in legislation is viewed as right (for still in all of them error in the apprehension of the Beautiful comes in, sense being the criterion); such a character will feel as a passionate lover only towards that Beauty which has no source but Itself, which is not such at one particular time or relatively only, which is Beautiful from, and through, and in itself, not such at one moment and in the next ceasing to be such, above all increase and addition, incapable of change and alteration. I venture to affirm that, to one who has cleansed all the powers of his being from every form of vice, the Beauty which is essential, the source of every beauty and every good, will become visible. The visual eye, purged from its blinding humour, can clearly discern objects even on the distant sky; so to the soul by virtue of her innocence there comes the power of taking in that Light; and the real Virginity, the real zeal for chastity, ends in no other goal than this, viz. the power thereby of seeing God. No one in fact is so mentally blind as not to understand that without telling; viz. that the God of the Universe is the only absolute, and primal, and unrivalled Beauty and Goodness. All, maybe, know that; but there are those who, as might have been expected, wish besides this to discover, if possible, a process by which we may be actually guided to it. Well, the Divine books are full of such instruction for our guidance; and besides that many of the Saints cast the refulgence of their own lives, like lamps, upon the path for those who are walking with God. But each may gather in abundance for himself suggestions towards this end out of either Covenant in the inspired writings; the Prophets and the Law are full of them; and also the Gospel and the Traditions of the Apostles. What we ourselves have conjectured in following out the thoughts of those inspired utterances is this.

This reasoning and intelligent creature, man, who is both the work and the likeness of the Divine and Imperishable Mind (for so it is written in the Creation account that God made man in His image), did not have passion and death united to the very essence of his nature when he was first created. Indeed, the truth about the image could never have been preserved if the beauty reflected in that image had been in any way opposed to the Archetypal Beauty. Passion was introduced later, after man's first formation, and it happened this way: Being the image and the likeness, as we have said, of the Power that rules all things, man also kept in the matter of Free Will this likeness to Him whose Will is over all. He was not enslaved to any outward necessity; his feelings toward what pleased him depended only on his own judgment; he was free to choose whatever he liked. So he was a free agent, though deceived with cunning, when he brought upon himself that disaster which now overwhelms humanity. He became the discoverer of evil, but he did not discover what God had made, for God did not make death. Man became, in fact, the fabricator and craftsman of evil to a certain extent.

Everyone who has the faculty of sight can equally enjoy the sunlight, and anyone can remove this enjoyment from himself by shutting his eyes. In that case, it is not that the sun withdraws and produces darkness, but the man himself puts a barrier between his eye and the sunshine. The faculty of vision cannot remain inactive even when the eyes are closed, and so this operative sight necessarily becomes an operative darkness rising up in the man from his own free act of ceasing to see. Again, a man building a house for himself may fail to make any entrance for the light in it; he will necessarily be in darkness, though he cuts himself off from the light voluntarily. So the first man on earth, or rather the one who generated evil in man, had for his choice the Good and the Beautiful lying all around him in the very nature of things. Yet he deliberately cut out a new way for himself against this nature, and in the act of turning away from virtue, which was his own free act, he created the practice of evil. For observe that there is no such thing in the world as evil apart from a will, discoverable in a substance separate from that. Every creature of God is good, and nothing of His is to be rejected; all that God made was very good. But the habit of sinning entered as we have described, and with fatal speed, into the life of man, and from that small beginning spread into this vast extent of evil.

Then that godly beauty of the soul, which was an imitation of the Archetypal Beauty, like fine steel blackened with vicious rust, no longer preserved the glory of its familiar essence but was disfigured with the ugliness of sin. This thing so great and precious, as Scripture calls him, this being man, has fallen from his proud birthright. Just as those who have slipped and fallen heavily into mud have all their features so covered with it that their nearest friends do not recognize them, so this creature has fallen into the mire of sin and lost the blessing of being an image of the imperishable Deity. He has clothed himself instead with a perishable and foul resemblance to something else. Reason counsels him to put this away again by washing it off in the cleansing water of this calling. Once the earthly covering is removed, the soul's beauty will appear again.

Now the putting off of a strange addition is equivalent to the return to what is familiar and natural, yet such a return can only happen by becoming again what we were created to be in the beginning. In fact, this likeness to the divine is not our work at all; it is not the achievement of any human faculty; it is the great gift of God bestowed upon our nature at the very moment of our birth. Human efforts can only go so far as to clear away the filth of sin and so cause the buried beauty of the soul to shine forth again.

This truth is, I think, taught in the Gospel when our Lord says to those who can hear what Wisdom speaks beneath a mystery, that the Kingdom of God is within you. That word points out the fact that the Divine good is not something apart from our nature and is not removed far away from those who have the will to seek it; it is in fact within each of us, ignored and unnoticed while it is stifled beneath the cares and pleasures of life, but found again whenever we can turn our power of conscious thinking toward it.

If further confirmation of what we say is required, I think it will be found in what is suggested by our Lord in the searching for the Lost Drachma. The thought there is that the widowed soul gains no benefit from the other virtues (called drachmas in the Parable) all being found safe if that one other is not among them. The Parable therefore suggests that a candle should first be lit, signifying doubtless our reason which throws light on hidden principles; then that in one's own house, that is, within oneself, we should search for that lost coin. By that coin the Parable doubtless hints at the image of our King, not yet hopelessly lost but hidden beneath the dirt. By this last we must understand the impurities of the flesh, which, being swept and purged away by carefulness of life, leave clear to view the object of our search. Then it is meant that the soul herself who finds this rejoices over it, and with her the neighbors, whom she calls in to share with her in this delight.

Truly, all those powers which are the housemates of the soul, and which the Parable names her neighbors for this occasion, when the image of the mighty King is revealed in all its brightness at last (that image which the Fashioner of each individual heart of us has stamped upon this our Drachma), will then be converted to that divine delight and festivity and will gaze upon the ineffable beauty of the recovered one. "Rejoice with me," she says, "because I have found the Drachma which I had lost." The neighbors, that is, the soul's familiar powers—both the reasoning and the appetitive, the affections of grief and of anger, and all the rest that are discerned in her—at that joyful feast which celebrates the finding of the heavenly Drachma are well called her friends also. It is fitting that they should all rejoice in the Lord when they all look toward the Beautiful and the Good and do everything for the glory of God, no longer instruments of sin.

If, then, such is the lesson of this Finding of the lost—namely, that we should restore the divine image from the foulness which the flesh wraps round it to its primitive state—let us become what the First Man was at the moment when he first breathed. And what was that? He was destitute then of his covering of dead skins, but he could gaze without shrinking upon God's countenance. He did not yet judge what was lovely by taste or sight; he found in the Lord alone all that was sweet. He used the helpmeet given him only for this delight, as Scripture signifies when it said that he knew her not till he was driven forth from the garden and till she, for the sin which she was deceived into committing, was sentenced to the pangs of childbirth.

We, then, who in our first ancestor were thus ejected, are allowed to return to our earliest state of blessedness by the very same stages by which we lost Paradise. What are they? Pleasure, craftily offered, began the Fall, and there followed after pleasure shame and fear, even to remain longer in the sight of their Creator, so that they hid themselves in leaves and shade. After that they covered themselves with the skins of dead animals, and then were sent forth into this pestilential and exacting land where, as the compensation for having to die, marriage was instituted.

Now if we are destined to depart hence and be with Christ, we must begin at the end of the route of departure (which lies nearest to ourselves), just as those who have traveled far from their friends at home, when they turn to reach again the place from which they started, first leave that district which they reached at the end of their outward journey. Marriage, then, is the last stage of our separation from the life that was led in Paradise; marriage therefore, as our discourse has been suggesting, is the first thing to be left; it is the first station, as it were, for our departure to Christ. Next, we must retire from all anxious toil upon the land, such as man was bound to after his sin. Next we must divest ourselves of those coverings of our nakedness, the coats of skins—namely the wisdom of the flesh. We must renounce all shameful things done in secret and be covered no longer with the fig-leaves of this bitter world. Then, when we have torn off the coatings of this life's perishable leaves, we must stand again in the sight of our Creator and, repelling all the illusion of taste and sight, take for our guide God's commandment only, instead of the venom-spitting serpent.

That commandment was to touch nothing but what was Good and to leave what was evil untasted, because impat

This reasoning and intelligent creature, man, at once the work and the likeness of the Divine and Imperishable Mind (for so in the Creation it is written of him that God made man in His image Genesis 1:27), this creature, I say, did not in the course of his first production have united to the very essence of his nature the liability to passion and to death. Indeed, the truth about the image could never have been maintained if the beauty reflected in that image had been in the slightest degree opposed to the Archetypal Beauty. Passion was introduced afterwards, subsequent to man's first organization; and it was in this way. Being the image and the likeness, as has been said, of the Power which rules all things, man kept also in the matter of a Free-Will this likeness to Him whose Will is over all. He was enslaved to no outward necessity whatever; his feeling towards that which pleased him depended only on his own private judgment; he was free to choose whatever he liked; and so he was a free agent, though circumvented with cunning, when he drew upon himself that disaster which now overwhelms humanity. He became himself the discoverer of evil, but he did not therein discover what God had made; for God did not make death. Man became, in fact, himself the fabricator, to a certain extent, and the craftsman of evil. All who have the faculty of sight may enjoy equally the sunlight; and any one can if he likes put this enjoyment from him by shutting his eyes: in that case it is not that the sun retires and produces that darkness, but the man himself puts a barrier between his eye and the sunshine; the faculty of vision cannot indeed, even in the closing of the eyes, remain inactive, and so this operative sight necessarily becomes an operative darkness rising up in the man from his own free act in ceasing to see. Again, a man in building a house for himself may omit to make in it any way of entrance for the light; he will necessarily be in darkness, though he cuts himself off from the light voluntarily. So the first man on the earth, or rather he who generated evil in man, had for choice the Good and the Beautiful lying all around him in the very nature of things; yet he wilfully cut out a new way for himself against this nature, and in the act of turning away from virtue, which was his own free act, he created the usage of evil. For, be it observed, there is no such thing in the world as evil irrespective of a will, and discoverable in a substance apart from that. Every creature of God is good, and nothing of His to be rejected; all that God made was very good. But the habit of sinning entered as we have described, and with fatal quickness, into the life of man; and from that small beginning spread into this infinitude of evil. Then that godly beauty of the soul which was an imitation of the Archetypal Beauty, like fine steel blackened with the vicious rust, preserved no longer the glory of its familiar essence, but was disfigured with the ugliness of sin. This thing so great and precious, as the Scripture calls him, this being man, has fallen from his proud birthright. As those who have slipped and fallen heavily into mud, and have all their features so besmeared with it, that their nearest friends do not recognize them, so this creature has fallen into the mire of sin and lost the blessing of being an image of the imperishable Deity; he has clothed himself instead with a perishable and foul resemblance to something else; and this Reason counsels him to put away again by washing it off in the cleansing water of this calling. The earthly envelopment once removed, the soul's beauty will again appear. Now the putting off of a strange accretion is equivalent to the return to that which is familiar and natural; yet such a return cannot be but by again becoming that which in the beginning we were created. In fact this likeness to the divine is not our work at all; it is not the achievement of any faculty of man; it is the great gift of God bestowed upon our nature at the very moment of our birth; human efforts can only go so far as to clear away the filth of sin, and so cause the buried beauty of the soul to shine forth again. This truth is, I think, taught in the Gospel, when our Lord says, to those who can hear what Wisdom speaks beneath a mystery, that the Kingdom of God is within you Luke 17:21. That word points out the fact that the Divine good is not something apart from our nature, and is not removed far away from those who have the will to seek it; it is in fact within each of us, ignored indeed, and unnoticed while it is stifled beneath the cares and pleasures of life, but found again whenever we can turn our power of conscious thinking towards it. If further confirmation of what we say is required, I think it will be found in what is suggested by our Lord in the searching for the Lost Drachma. The thought, there, is that the widowed soul reaps no benefit from the other virtues (called drachmas in the Parable) being all of them found safe, if that one other is not among them. The Parable therefore suggests that a candle should first be lit, signifying doubtless our reason which throws light on hidden principles; then that in one's own house, that is, within oneself, we should search for that lost coin; and by that coin the Parable doubtless hints at the image of our King, not yet hopelessly lost, but hidden beneath the dirt; and by this last we must understand the impurities of the flesh, which, being swept and purged away by carefulness of life, leave clear to the view the object of our search. Then it is meant that the soul herself who finds this rejoices over it, and with her the neighbours, whom she calls in to share with her in this delight. Verily, all those powers which are the housemates of the soul, and which the Parable names her neighbours for this occasion, when so be that the image of the mighty King is revealed in all its brightness at last (that image which the Fashioner of each individual heart of us has stamped upon this our Drachma), will then be converted to that divine delight and festivity, and will gaze upon the ineffable beauty of the recovered one. Rejoice with me, she says, because I have found the Drachma which I had lost. The neighbours, that is, the soul's familiar powers, both the reasoning and the appetitive, the affections of grief and of anger, and all the rest that are discerned in her, at that joyful feast which celebrates the finding of the heavenly Drachma are well called her friends also; and it is meet that they should all rejoice in the Lord when they all look towards the Beautiful and the Good, and do everything for the glory of God, no longer instruments of sin. Romans 6:13 If, then, such is the lesson of this Finding of the lost, viz. that we should restore the divine image from the foulness which the flesh wraps round it to its primitive state, let us become that which the First Man was at the moment when he first breathed. And what was that? Destitute he was then of his covering of dead skins, but he could gaze without shrinking upon God's countenance. He did not yet judge of what was lovely by taste or sight; he found in the Lord alone all that was sweet; and he used the helpmeet given him only for this delight, as Scripture signifies when it said that he knew her not Genesis 4:1 till he was driven forth from the garden, and till she, for the sin which she was decoyed into committing, was sentenced to the pangs of childbirth. We, then, who in our first ancestor were thus ejected, are allowed to return to our earliest state of blessedness by the very same stages by which we lost Paradise. What are they? Pleasure, craftily offered, began the Fall, and there followed after pleasure shame, and fear, even to remain longer in the sight of their Creator, so that they hid themselves in leaves and shade; and after that they covered themselves with the skins of dead animals; and then were sent forth into this pestilential and exacting land where, as the compensation for having to die, marriage was instituted. Genesis 3:16 Now if we are destined to depart hence, and be with Christ Philippians 1:23, we must begin at the end of the route of departure (which lies nearest to ourselves); just as those who have travelled far from their friends at home, when they turn to reach again the place from which they started, first leave that district which they reached at the end of their outward journey. Marriage, then, is the last stage of our separation from the life that was led in Paradise; marriage therefore, as our discourse has been suggesting, is the first thing to be left; it is the first station as it were for our departure to Christ. Next, we must retire from all anxious toil upon the land, such as man was bound to after his sin. Next we must divest ourselves of those coverings of our nakedness, the coats of skins, namely the wisdom of the flesh; we must renounce all shameful things done in secret 2 Corinthians 4:2, and be covered no longer with the fig-leaves of this bitter world; then, when we have torn off the coatings of this life's perishable leaves, we must stand again in the sight of our Creator; and repelling all the illusion of taste and sight, take for our guide God's commandment only, instead of the venom-spitting serpent. That commandment was, to touch nothing but what was Good, and to leave what was evil untasted; because impatience to remain any longer in ignorance of evil would be but the beginning of the long train of actual evil. For this reason it was forbidden to our first parents to grasp the knowledge of the opposite to the good, as well as that of the good itself; they were to keep themselves from the knowledge of good and evil Genesis 2:17, and to enjoy the Good in its purity, unmixed with one particle of evil: and to enjoy that, is in my judgment nothing else than to be ever with God, and to feel ceaselessly and continually this delight, unalloyed by anything that could tear us away from it. One might even be bold to say that this might be found the way by which a man could be again caught up into Paradise out of this world which lies in the Evil, into that Paradise where Paul was when he saw the unspeakable sights which it is not lawful for a man to talk of 2 Corinthians 12:4.

But since Paradise is the home of living spirits and will not admit those who are dead in sin, and since we on the other hand are fleshly, subject to death, and sold under sin, how is it possible that one who is subject to death's power should ever live in this place where everything is life? What way of escape from this rule can be found? Here too the Gospel teaching gives us a full answer. We hear our Lord saying to Nicodemus, "That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit." We also know that the flesh is subject to death because of sin, but the Spirit of God is both incorruptible and life-giving and deathless. Just as at our physical birth we bring into the world with us the potential to be turned back to dust, clearly the Spirit also gives a life-giving potential to the children begotten by himself. What lesson, then, can we draw from these observations? This: that we should turn away from this life in the flesh, which inevitably brings death with it, and that we should look for a way of life that does not bring death along with it. Now the life of virginity is such a life. We will add a few other things to show how true this is. Everyone knows that the creation of mortal bodies is the work that sexual intercourse accomplishes; but for those who are joined to the Spirit, life and immortality are produced by this latter union instead of children. The words of the Apostle beautifully apply to their case, for the joyful mother of such children as these shall be saved in childbearing. As the Psalmist in his divine songs thankfully cries, "He makes the barren woman to keep house and to be a joyful mother of children." Truly a joyful mother is the virgin mother who by the work of the Spirit conceives deathless children, and who is called barren by the Prophet only because of her chastity. This life, then, which is stronger than the power of death, is, for those who think carefully, the better one. The physical bringing of children into the world—I speak without wishing to offend—is as much a starting point of death as of life, because from the moment of birth the process of dying begins. But those who through virginity have stopped this process have drawn the boundary line of death within themselves, and by their own action have blocked his advance. They have made themselves, in fact, a border between life and death, and also a barrier that thwarts him. If, then, death cannot pass beyond virginity, but finds his power stopped and broken there, it is proven that virginity is stronger than death. That body is rightly called undying which does not lend its service to a dying world, nor consent to become the instrument of a succession of dying creatures. In such a body the long unbroken sequence of decay and death, which has continued between the first man and the lives of virginity that have been lived, is interrupted. It could not be that death should stop working as long as the human race through marriage was also working. He walked the path of life with all previous generations; he started with every newborn child and accompanied it to the end. But he found in virginity a barrier that was impossible for him to pass. Just as, in the age of Mary the mother of God, he who had reigned from Adam to her time found, when he came to her and struck his forces against the fruit of her virginity as against a rock, that he was shattered to pieces upon her, so in every soul which passes through this life in the flesh under the protection of virginity, the strength of death is in a way broken and destroyed, for he does not find the places where he can fix his sting. If you do not throw into the fire wood, or straw, or grass, or something it can consume, it does not have the power to last by itself. So the power of death cannot continue working if marriage does not supply it with material and prepare victims for this executioner. If you have any remaining doubts, consider the actual names of those troubles which death brings upon mankind, and which were listed in the first part of this discourse. Where do they get their meaning? Widowhood, orphanhood, loss of children—could they be a cause for grief if marriage did not come first? No, all the treasured joys and delights and comforts of marriage end in these agonies of grief. The handle of a sword is smooth and handy, polished and shining on the outside; it seems to fit perfectly to the outline of the hand. But the other part is steel and the instrument of death, frightening to look at, even more frightening to encounter. Such a thing is marriage. It offers to the senses a smooth surface of pleasures, like a handle of excellent polish and beautiful craftsmanship. But when a man has taken it up and has got it into his hands, he finds that the pain that has been joined to it is also in his hands, and it becomes for him the cause of mourning and loss. It is marriage that has the heartbreaking sights to show of children left alone in the tenderness of their years, merely a prey to the powerful, yet often smiling at their misfortune because they do not understand the troubles to come. What is the cause of widowhood but marriage? And withdrawal from this would bring with it freedom from the whole burden of these painful taxes on our hearts. Can we expect it to be otherwise? When the verdict that was pronounced on the offenders in the beginning is canceled, then too the mothers' sorrows are no longer multiplied, nor does sorrow announce the births of people. Then all calamity has been removed from life and tears wiped away from all faces. Conception is no longer an iniquity, nor childbearing a sin, and births shall be no more of bloods, or of the will of man, or of the will of the flesh, but of God alone. This is always happening whenever anyone in a living heart conceives all the integrity of the Spirit and brings forth wisdom and righteousness and sanctification and redemption too. It is possible for anyone to be the mother of such a son. As our Lord says, "He that does my will is my brother, my sister, and my mother." What room is there for death in such births? Indeed, in them death is swallowed up by life. In fact, the life of virginity seems to be an actual representation of the blessedness in the world to come, showing as it does in itself so many signs of the presence of those expected blessings which are reserved for us there. That the truth of this statement may be seen, we will verify it in this way. It is so, first, because a person who has died once for all to sin lives for the future to God. He brings forth no more fruit unto death, and having as far as he is able made an end of this life within him according to the flesh, he waits from now on for the expected blessing of the manifestation of the great God, avoiding putting any distance between himself and this coming of God by creating an intervening line of descendants. Second, because he enjoys even in this present life a certain wonderful foretaste of all the blessed results of our resurrection. For our Lord has announced that the life after our resurrection shall be like that of the angels. Now the distinctive feature of the angelic nature is that they are strangers to marriage. Therefore the blessing of this promise has already been received by the one who has not only joined his own glory with the glory of the saints, but also by the purity of his life has imitated the purity of these incorporeal beings. If virginity then can win us favors such as these, what words are adequate to express the admiration of so great a grace? What other gift of the soul can be found so great and precious as not to appear inferior by comparison with this perfection?

But seeing that Paradise is the home of living spirits, and will not admit those who are dead in sin, and that we on the other hand are fleshly, subject to death, and sold under sin, how is it possible that one who is a subject of death's empire should ever dwell in this land where all is life? What method of release from this jurisdiction can be devised? Here too the Gospel teaching is abundantly sufficient. We hear our Lord saying to Nicodemus, That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. We know too that the flesh is subject to death because of sin, but the Spirit of God is both incorruptible, and life-giving, and deathless. As at our physical birth there comes into the world with us a potentiality of being again turned to dust, plainly the Spirit also imparts a life-giving potentiality to the children begotten by Himself. What lesson, then, results from these remarks? This: that we should wean ourselves from this life in the flesh, which has an inevitable follower, death; and that we should search for a manner of life which does not bring death in its train. Now the life of Virginity is such a life. We will add a few other things to show how true this is. Every one knows that the propagation of mortal frames is the work which the intercourse of the sexes has to do; whereas for those who are joined to the Spirit, life and immortality instead of children are produced by this latter intercourse; and the words of the Apostle beautifully suit their case, for the joyful mother of such children as these shall be saved in child-bearing 1 Timothy 2:15; as the Psalmist in his divine songs thankfully cries, He makes the barren woman to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children. Truly a joyful mother is the virgin mother who by the operation of the Spirit conceives the deathless children, and who is called by the Prophet barren because of her modesty only. This life, then, which is stronger than the power of death, is, to those who think, the preferable one. The physical bringing of children into the world — I speak without wishing to offend — is as much a starting-point of death as of life; because from the moment of birth the process of dying commences. But those who by virginity have desisted from this process have drawn within themselves the boundary line of death, and by their own deed have checked his advance; they have made themselves, in fact, a frontier between life and death, and a barrier too, which thwarts him. If, then, death cannot pass beyond virginity, but finds his power checked and shattered there, it is demonstrated that virginity is a stronger thing than death; and that body is rightly named undying which does not lend its service to a dying world, nor brook to become the instrument of a succession of dying creatures. In such a body the long unbroken career of decay and death, which has intervened between the first man and the lives of virginity which have been led, is interrupted. It could not be indeed that death should cease working as long as the human race by marriage was working too; he walked the path of life with all preceding generations; he started with every new-born child and accompanied it to the end: but he found in virginity a barrier, to pass which was an impossible feat. Just as, in the age of Mary the mother of God, he who had reigned from Adam to her time found, when he came to her and dashed his forces against the fruit of her virginity as against a rock, that he was shattered to pieces upon her, so in every soul which passes through this life in the flesh under the protection of virginity, the strength of death is in a manner broken and annulled, for he does not find the places upon which he may fix his sting. If you do not throw into the fire wood, or straw, or grass, or something that it can consume, it has not the force to last by itself; so the power of death cannot go on working, if marriage does not supply it with material and prepare victims for this executioner. If you have any doubts left, consider the actual names of those afflictions which death brings upon mankind, and which were detailed in the first part of this discourse. Whence do they get their meaning? Widowhood, orphanhood, loss of children, could they be a subject for grief, if marriage did not precede? Nay, all the dearly-prized blisses, and transports, and comforts of marriage end in these agonies of grief. The hilt of a sword is smooth and handy, and polished and glittering outside; it seems to grow to the outline of the hand; but the other part is steel and the instrument of death, formidable to look at, more formidable still to come across. Such a thing is marriage. It offers for the grasp of the senses a smooth surface of delights, like a hilt of rare polish and beautiful workmanship; but when a man has taken it up and has got it into his hands, he finds the pain that has been wedded to it is in his hands as well; and it becomes to him the worker of mourning and of loss. It is marriage that has the heartrending spectacles to show of children left desolate in the tenderness of their years, a mere prey to the powerful, yet smiling often at their misfortune from ignorance of coming woes. What is the cause of widowhood but marriage? And retirement from this would bring with it an immunity from the whole burden of these sad taxes on our hearts. Can we expect it otherwise? When the verdict that was pronounced on the delinquents in the beginning is annulled, then too the mothers' sorrows Genesis 3:16 are no longer multiplied, nor does sorrow herald the births of men; then all calamity has been removed from life and tears wiped from off all faces Isaiah 25:8; conception is no more an iniquity, nor child-bearing a sin; and births shall be no more of bloods, or of the will of man, or of the will of the flesh, but of God alone. This is always happening whenever any one in a lively heart conceives all the integrity of the Spirit, and brings forth wisdom and righteousness, and sanctification and redemption too. It is possible for any one to be the mother of such a son; as our Lord says, He that does my will is my brother, my sister, and my mother Matthew 12:50. What room is there for death in such parturitions? Indeed in them death is swallowed up by life. In fact, the Life of Virginity seems to be an actual representation of the blessedness in the world to come, showing as it does in itself so many signs of the presence of those expected blessings which are reserved for us there. That the truth of this statement may be perceived, we will verify it thus. It is so, first, because a man who has thus died once for all to sin lives for the future to God; he brings forth no more fruit unto death; and having so far as in him lies made an end of this life within him according to the flesh, he awaits thenceforth the expected blessing of the manifestation of the great God, refraining from putting any distance between himself and this coming of God by an intervening posterity: secondly, because he enjoys even in this present life a certain exquisite glory of all the blessed results of our resurrection. For our Lord has announced that the life after our resurrection shall be as that of the angels. Now the peculiarity of the angelic nature is that they are strangers to marriage; therefore the blessing of this promise has been already received by him who has not only mingled his own glory with the halo of the Saints, but also by the stainlessness of his life has so imitated the purity of these incorporeal beings. If virginity then can win us favours such as these, what words are fit to express the admiration of so great a grace? What other gift of the soul can be found so great and precious as not to suffer by comparison with this perfection?

But if we finally grasp the perfection of this grace, we must also understand what necessarily follows from it: namely, that it is not a single accomplishment ending with the subjugation of the body, but rather its intention extends to and pervades everything that is, or is considered, a right condition of the soul. That soul which in virginity cleaves to the true Bridegroom will not merely remove herself from all bodily defilement; she will make that abstinence only the beginning of her purity and will carry this security from failure equally into everything else on her path. Fearing that, from a divided heart, she might through contact with evil in any direction give opportunity for the slightest weakness of unfaithfulness—but let me begin again what I was going to say—that soul which cleaves to her Master so as to become with Him one spirit, and through the bond of a wedded life has committed the love of all her heart and all her strength to Him alone, that soul will no more commit any other offense contrary to salvation than she would risk her union with Him by cleaving to fornication. She knows that between all sins there is a single kinship of impurity, and that if she were to defile herself with even one, she could no longer retain her spotlessness. An illustration will show what we mean. Suppose all the water in a pool remains smooth and motionless, with no disturbance of any kind coming to disturb the peacefulness of the place; and then a stone is thrown into the pool. The movement in that one spot will extend to the whole, and while the stone's weight carries it to the bottom, the waves set in motion around it pass in circles to others, and so through all the intervening commotion are pushed on to the very edge of the water, and the whole surface is ruffled with these circles, feeling the movement of the depths. So too the broad serenity and calm of the soul is troubled by one invading passion and affected by the injury of a single part. Those who have investigated the subject also tell us that the virtues are not separated from each other, and that grasping the principle of any one virtue will be impossible for one who has not grasped that which underlies the rest, and that the person who shows one virtue in his character will necessarily show them all. Therefore, by contraries, the corruption of anything in our moral nature will extend to the whole virtuous life; and in very truth, as the Apostle tells us, the whole is affected by the parts, and if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one is honored, all rejoice.

But if we apprehend at last the perfection of this grace, we must understand as well what necessarily follows from it; namely that it is not a single achievement, ending in the subjugation of the body, but that in intention it reaches to and pervades everything that is, or is considered, a right condition of the soul. That soul indeed which in virginity cleaves to the true Bridegroom will not remove herself merely from all bodily defilement; she will make that abstension only the beginning of her purity, and will carry this security from failure equally into everything else upon her path. Fearing lest, from a too partial heart, she should by contact with evil in any one direction give occasion for the least weakness of unfaithfulness (to suppose such a case: but I will begin again what I was going to say), that soul which cleaves to her Master so as to become with Him one spirit, and by the compact of a wedded life has staked the love of all her heart and all her strength on Him alone — that soul will no more commit any other of the offenses contrary to salvation, than imperil her union with Him by cleaving to fornication; she knows that between all sins there is a single kinship of impurity, and that if she were to defile herself with but one, she could no longer retain her spotlessness. An illustration will show what we mean. Suppose all the water in a pool remaining smooth and motionless, while no disturbance of any kind comes to mar the peacefulness of the spot; and then a stone thrown into the pool; the movement in that one part will extend to the whole, and while the stone's weight is carrying it to the bottom, the waves that are set in motion round it pass in circles into others, and so through all the intervening commotion are pushed on to the very edge of the water, and the whole surface is ruffled with these circles, feeling the movement of the depths. So is the broad serenity and calm of the soul troubled by one invading passion, and affected by the injury of a single part. They tell us too, those who have investigated the subject, that the virtues are not disunited from each other, and that to grasp the principle of any one virtue will be impossible to one who has not seized that which underlies the rest, and that the man who shows one virtue in his character will necessarily show them all. Therefore, by contraries, the depravation of anything in our moral nature will extend to the whole virtuous life; and in very truth, as the Apostle tells us, the whole is affected by the parts, and if one member suffer, all the members suffer with it, if one be honoured, all rejoice.

But the paths in our life that lead us toward sin are countless, and Scripture describes their number in various ways: "Many are they that trouble me and persecute," and "Many are they that fight against me from on high," and many other similar passages. We can say without qualification that many plot like adulterers to destroy this truly honorable marriage and to defile this pure bed. If we must name them individually, we accuse anger, greed, envy, revenge, hostility, malice, hatred, and whatever else the Apostle categorizes as contrary to sound teaching of this adulterous spirit. Now imagine a woman who is attractive and beautiful beyond her peers, and for that reason married to a king, but besieged by immoral lovers because of her beauty. As long as she remains outraged at these would-be seducers and complains about them to her lawful husband, she preserves her chastity and has no one in her sight but her bridegroom; the immoral men find no opportunity to attack her. But if she were to listen to even one of them, her chastity toward the rest would not save her from punishment; the fact that she had allowed that one to defile the marriage bed would be enough to condemn her. In the same way, the soul whose life is in God will take pleasure in not even one of those things that make a beautiful appearance to deceive her. If she were, in some moment of weakness, to admit the defilement into her heart, she would herself have broken the covenant of her spiritual marriage; and, as Scripture tells us, Wisdom cannot come into the malicious soul. In short, it can truly be said that the Good Husband cannot come to live with the soul that is prone to anger, or bears malice, or harbors any other disposition that conflicts with that harmony. No way has been found to reconcile things whose nature is opposed and which have nothing in common. The Apostle tells us there is no communion of light with darkness, or of righteousness with unrighteousness, or, in a word, of all the qualities which we perceive and name as the essence of God's nature with all the opposites that are perceived in evil. Since union between mutual opposites is impossible, we understand that the vicious soul is prevented from welcoming the company of the Good. What then is the practical lesson from this? The chaste and thoughtful virgin must separate herself from any affection that can in any way transmit corruption to her soul; she must keep herself pure for the Husband who has married her, not having spot or blemish or anything of that kind.

But the ways in our life which turn aside towards sin are innumerable; and their number is told by Scripture in various manners. Many are they that trouble me and persecute, and Many are they that fight against me from on high; and many other texts like that. We may affirm, indeed, absolutely, that many are they who plot in the adulterer's fashion to destroy this truly honourable marriage, and to defile this inviolate bed; and if we must name them one by one, we charge with this adulterous spirit anger, avarice, envy, revenge, enmity, malice, hatred, and whatever the Apostle puts in the class of those things which are contrary to sound doctrine. Now let us suppose a lady, prepossessing and lovely above her peers, and on that account wedded to a king, but besieged because of her beauty by profligate lovers. As long as she remains indignant at these would-be seducers and complains of them to her lawful husband, she keeps her chastity and has no one before her eyes but her bridegroom; the profligates find no vantage ground for their attack upon her. But if she were to listen to a single one of them, her chastity with regard to the rest would not exempt her from the retribution; it would be sufficient to condemn her, that she had allowed that one to defile the marriage bed. So the soul whose life is in God will find her pleasure in no single one of those things which make a beauteous show to deceive her. If she were, in some fit of weakness, to admit the defilement to her heart, she would herself have broken the covenant of her spiritual marriage; and, as the Scripture tells us, into the malicious soul Wisdom cannot come Wisdom 1:4. It may, in a word, be truly said that the Good Husband cannot come to dwell with the soul that is irascible, or malice-bearing, or harbours any other disposition which jars with that concord. No way has been discovered of harmonizing things whose nature is antagonistic and which have nothing in common. The Apostle tells us there is no communion of light with darkness 2 Corinthians 6:14, or of righteousness with iniquity, or, in a word, of all the qualities which we perceive and name as the essence of God's nature, with all the opposite which are perceived in evil. Seeing, then, the impossibility of any union between mutual repellents, we understand that the vicious soul is estranged from entertaining the company of the Good. What then is the practical lesson from this? The chaste and thoughtful virgin must sever herself from any affection which can in any way impart contagion to her soul; she must keep herself pure for the Husband who has married her, not having spot or blemish or any such thing.

There is only one right path. It is narrow and constricted. It has no turnings to either side. No matter how we leave it, there is the same danger of wandering hopelessly astray. This being so, we must correct as far as possible the habit that many have adopted—those, I mean, who while they fight vigorously against the baser pleasures still go on pursuing pleasure in the form of worldly honor and positions that will satisfy their love of power. They act like a household servant who longed for freedom but instead of working to escape from slavery only proceeded to change masters, and thought freedom consisted in that change. But all alike are slaves, even if they are not all ruled by the same masters, as long as any kind of dominion with power to enforce it is set over them. There are others again who after a long struggle against all the pleasures easily give in on another battlefield where feelings of an opposite kind arise. In their intense exactness of life they fall easy prey to melancholy and irritation, to brooding over injuries, and to everything that is the direct opposite of pleasurable feelings—from which they are very reluctant to free themselves. This always happens whenever any emotion, instead of virtuous reason, controls the course of a life. For the commandment of the Lord is exceedingly radiant, enlightening the eyes even of the simple, declaring that good adheres only to God. But God is not pain any more than He is pleasure. He is not cowardice any more than boldness. He is not fear, nor anger, nor any other emotion that rules the untrained soul, but, as the Apostle says, He is Very Wisdom and Sanctification, Truth and Joy and Peace, and everything like that. If He is such, how can anyone be said to adhere to Him who is mastered by the very opposite? Is it not unreasonable for anyone to suppose that when he has successfully struggled to escape the dominion of one particular passion, he will find virtue in its opposite? For instance, to suppose that when he has escaped pleasure he will find virtue in letting pain possess him, or when he has by effort remained proof against anger, in crouching with fear. It does not matter whether we miss virtue, or rather God Himself Who is the Sum of virtue, in this way or in that. Take the case of severe bodily weakness—one would say that the sadness of this failure is exactly the same whether the cause has been excessive undereating or immoderate eating. Both failures to stop in time end in the same result. He therefore who watches over the life and health of the soul will confine himself to the moderation of the truth. He will continue without touching either of those opposite states that run alongside virtue. This teaching is not mine; it comes from the Divine lips. It is clearly contained in that passage where our Lord says to His disciples that they are as sheep wandering among wolves, yet are not to be as doves only but are to have something of the serpent too in their disposition. That means they should neither carry to excess the practice of what seems praiseworthy in simplicity, as such a habit would come very near to outright foolishness, nor on the other hand should consider the cleverness that most admire to be a virtue while unsoftened by any mixture with its opposite. They were in fact to form another disposition by a compound of these two seeming opposites, cutting off its silliness from the one, its evil cunning from the other, so that one single beautiful character should be created from the two, a union of simplicity of purpose with shrewdness. Be, He says, wise as serpents and harmless as doves.

There is only one right path. It is narrow and contracted. It has no turnings either on the one side or the other. No matter how we leave it, there is the same danger of straying hopelessly away. This being so, the habit which many have got into must be as far as possible corrected; those, I mean, who while they fight strenuously against the baser pleasures, yet still go on hunting for pleasure in the shape of worldly honour and positions which will gratify their love of power. They act like some domestic who longed for liberty, but instead of exerting himself to get away from slavery proceeded only to change his masters, and thought liberty consisted in that change. But all alike are slaves, even though they should not all go on being ruled by the same masters, as long as a dominion of any sort, with power to enforce it, is set over them. There are others again who after a long battle against all the pleasures, yield themselves easily on another field, where feelings of an opposite kind come in; and in the intense exactitude of their lives fall a ready prey to melancholy and irritation, and to brooding over injuries, and to everything that is the direct opposite of pleasurable feelings; from which they are very reluctant to extricate themselves. This is always happening, whenever any emotion, instead of virtuous reason, controls the course of a life. For the commandment of the Lord is exceedingly far-shining, so as to enlighten the eyes even of the simple, declaring that good cleaves only unto God. But God is not pain any more than He is pleasure; He is not cowardice any more than boldness; He is not fear, nor anger, nor any other emotion which sways the untutored soul, but, as the Apostle says, He is Very Wisdom and Sanctification, Truth and Joy and Peace, and everything like that. If He is such, how can any one be said to cleave to Him, who is mastered by the very opposite? Is it not want of reason in any one to suppose that when he has striven successfully to escape the dominion of one particular passion, he will find virtue in its opposite? For instance, to suppose that when he has escaped pleasure, he will find virtue in letting pain have possession of him; or when he has by an effort remained proof against anger, in crouching with fear. It matters not whether we miss virtue, or rather God Himself Who is the Sum of virtue, in this way, or in that. Take the case of great bodily prostration; one would say that the sadness of this failure was just the same, whether the cause has been excessive under-feeding, or immoderate eating; both failures to stop in time end in the same result. He therefore who watches over the life and the sanity of the soul will confine himself to the moderation of the truth; he will continue without touching either of those opposite states which run along-side virtue. This teaching is not mine; it comes from the Divine lips. It is clearly contained in that passage where our Lord says to His disciples, that they are as sheep wandering among wolves, yet are not to be as doves only, but are to have something of the serpent too in their disposition; and that means that they should neither carry to excess the practice of that which seems praiseworthy in simplicity, as such a habit would come very near to downright madness, nor on the other hand should deem the cleverness which most admire to be a virtue, while unsoftened by any mixture with its opposite; they were in fact to form another disposition, by a compound of these two seeming opposites, cutting off its silliness from the one, its evil cunning from the other; so that one single beautiful character should be created from the two, a union of simplicity of purpose with shrewdness. Be, He says, wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.

Let what our Lord said then be the general principle for every life, especially for those who are drawing near to God through the gateway of virginity: they should never, while watching for perfection in one direction, leave themselves unguarded in another and opposite direction. Instead, they should realize the good in all directions, so that they may secure their holy life against failure in all things. A soldier does not arm himself only in some places, leaving the rest of his body unprotected and exposed. If he were to receive his death-wound there, what advantage would this partial armor have been? Similarly, who would call a face faultless if it had lost, through some accident, one of those features that together make up the sum of beauty? The disfigurement of the mutilated part destroys the grace of the untouched part. The Gospel suggests that someone who begins building a tower but spends all his effort on the foundations without ever finishing it deserves to be ridiculed. What else do we learn from the Parable of the Tower except to strive to complete every lofty purpose, accomplishing the work of God in all the varied structures of His commandments? One stone is no more the whole tower than keeping one commandment will raise the soul's perfection to the required height. The foundation must certainly be laid first, but over it, as the Apostle says, the structure of gold and precious gems must be built. This is how the Prophet describes keeping the commandment when he cries, "I have loved Your commandment above gold and many a precious stone." Let the virtuous life have as its foundation the love of virginity, but upon this let every result of virtue be built. If virginity is believed to be an immensely precious thing with a divine quality (as it truly is, just as people believe), yet if the whole life does not harmonize with this perfect note and is marred by the soul's subsequent discord, this thing becomes merely the gold jewel in the swine's snout or the pearl trampled under the swine's feet. But we have said enough about this.

Let that which was then said by our Lord be the general maxim for every life; especially let it be the maxim for those who are coming nearer God through the gateway of virginity, that they should never in watching for a perfection in one direction present an unguarded side in another and contrary one; but should in all directions realize the good, so that they may guarantee in all things their holy life against failure. A soldier does not arm himself only on some points, leaving the rest of his body to take its chance unprotected. If he were to receive his death-wound upon that, what would have been the advantage of this partial armour? Again, who would call that feature faultless, which from some accident had lost one of those requisites which go to make up the sum of beauty? The disfigurement of the mutilated part mars the grace of the part untouched. The Gospel implies that he who undertakes the building of a tower, but spends all his labour upon the foundations without ever reaching the completion, is worthy of ridicule; and what else do we learn from the Parable of the Tower, but to strive to come to the finish of every lofty purpose, accomplishing the work of God in all the multiform structures of His commandments? One stone, indeed, is no more the whole edifice of the Tower, than one commandment kept will raise the soul's perfection to the required height. The foundation must by all means first be laid but over it, as the Apostle says 1 Corinthians 3:12, the edifice of gold and precious gems must be built; for so is the doing of the commandment put by the Prophet who cries, I have loved Your commandment above gold and many a precious stone. Let the virtuous life have for its substructure the love of virginity; but upon this let every result of virtue be reared. If virginity is believed to be a vastly precious thing and to have a divine look (as indeed is the case, as well as men believe of it), yet, if the whole life does not harmonize with this perfect note, and it be marred by the succeeding discord of the soul, this thing becomes but the jewel of gold in the swine's snout or the pearl that is trodden under the swine's feet. But we have said enough upon this.

If anyone thinks that this lack of harmony between one's life and even a single aspect of it doesn't matter much, let him learn what our principle means by looking at how a household is managed. The master of a private home will not allow any disorder or impropriety to be visible in the house—such as an overturned couch, a table covered with garbage, or valuable vessels thrown into filthy corners while those that serve less noble purposes are pushed forward for arriving guests to see. He arranges everything neatly and in its proper place, where it shows to best advantage; then he can welcome his guests without any worry that he should be ashamed to open his house's interior to receive them. The same duty, I believe, falls to the master of our tabernacle, the mind; it must arrange everything within us and put each particular faculty of the soul, which the Creator has fashioned to be our tool or our vessel, to fitting and noble uses. We will now mention in detail the way in which anyone might manage his life, with its present resources, for his improvement, hoping that no one will accuse us of being trivial or overly detailed. We advise, then, that the passion of love be placed in the soul's purest shrine, as something chosen to be the firstfruits of all our gifts and devoted entirely to God; and once this has been done, to keep it untouched and unsullied by any worldly defilement. Then indignation, anger, and hatred must be like watchdogs to be roused only against attacking sins; they must follow their natural impulse only against the thief and the enemy who is creeping in to plunder the divine treasure chamber, and who comes only for this purpose: to steal, mangle, and destroy. Courage and confidence are to be weapons in our hands to defeat any sudden surprise and attack of the wicked who advance. Hope and patience are to be the staffs to lean on whenever we are weary with the trials of the world. As for sorrow, we must have a supply of it ready to apply, if need should happen to arise for it, in the hour of repentance for our sins, while believing at the same time that it is never useful except to serve that purpose. Righteousness will be our rule of straightforwardness, guarding us from stumbling either in word or deed, and guiding us in the use of our soul's faculties as well as in due consideration for everyone we meet. The love of gain, which is a large—incalculably large—element in every soul, when once applied to the desire for God, will bless the man who has it, for he will be violent where it is right to be violent. Wisdom and prudence will be our advisers concerning our best interests; they will order our lives so as never to suffer from any thoughtless folly. But suppose a man does not apply the aforementioned faculties of the soul to their proper use but reverses their intended purpose; suppose he wastes his love on the basest objects and stores up his hatred only for his own kinsmen; suppose he welcomes iniquity, acts manly only against his parents, is bold only in absurdities, fixes his hopes on emptiness, chases prudence and wisdom from his company, takes gluttony and folly for his mistresses, and uses all his other capacities in the same fashion—he would indeed be a strange and unnatural character to a degree beyond anyone's power to express. If we could imagine someone putting his armor on all the wrong way, reversing the helmet so as to cover his face while the plume nodded backward, putting his feet into the cuirass and fitting the greaves onto his breast, switching to the right side all that ought to go on the left and vice versa, and how such a soldier would be likely to fare in battle, then we would have an idea of the fate in life that is sure to await him whose confused judgment makes him reverse the proper uses of his soul's faculties. We must therefore provide this balance in all feeling; the true sobriety of mind is naturally able to supply it; and if one had to find an exact definition of this sobriety, one might declare absolutely that it amounts to our ordered control, by means of wisdom and prudence, over every emotion of the soul. Moreover, such a condition in the soul will no longer need any laborious method to attain the high and heavenly realities; it will accomplish with the greatest ease that which previously seemed so unattainable; it will grasp the object of its search as a natural consequence of rejecting the opposite attractions. A man who comes out of darkness is necessarily in the light; a man who is not dead is necessarily alive. Indeed, if a man is not to have received his soul for no purpose, he will certainly be on the path of truth; the prudence and the knowledge employed to guard against error will itself be a sure guidance along the right road. Slaves who have been freed and cease to serve their former masters, the very moment they become their own masters, direct all their thoughts toward themselves; so, I believe, the soul that has been freed from serving the body becomes at once aware of its own inherent energy. But this liberty consists, as we learn from the Apostle, in not again being held in the yoke of slavery and in not being bound again, like a runaway or a criminal, with the fetters of marriage. But I must return here to what I said at first: that the perfection of this liberty does not consist only in that one point of abstaining from marriage. Let no one suppose that the prize of virginity is so insignificant and so easily won as that, as if one little observance of the flesh could settle so vital a matter. But we have seen that every man who commits a sin is the servant of sin, so that a decline toward vice in any act or in any practice whatever makes a slave—and still more, a branded slave—of the man, covering him through sin's lashes with bruises and seared spots. Therefore it is necessary for the man who grasps at the transcendent aim of all virginity to be true to himself in every respect and to manifest his purity equally in every relation of his life. If any of the inspired words are required to aid our argument, the Truth Itself will be sufficient to corroborate the truth when It teaches this very kind of lesson in the veiled meaning of a Gospel parable: the good and edible fish are separated by the fishers' skill from the bad and poisonous fish, so that the enjoyment of the good should not be spoiled by any of the bad getting into the vessels with them. The work of true sobriety is the same: from all pursuits and habits to choose that which is pure and improving, rejecting in every case that which does not seem likely to be useful, and letting it go back into the universal and worldly life, called the sea in the imagery of the parable. The Psalmist also, when expounding the doctrine of a full confession, calls this restless, suffering, tumultuous life waters coming in even to the soul, depths of waters, and a hurricane—in which sea indeed every rebellious thought sinks, as the Egyptian did, with a stone's weight into the depths. But all in us that is dear to God and has a piercing insight into the truth (called Israel in the narrative) passes, and that alone, over that sea as if it were dry land and is never reached by the bitterness and the brine of life's billows. Thus, symbolically, under the leadership of the Law (for Moses was a type of the Law that was coming), Israel passes unwetted over that sea, while the Egyptian who crosses in her track is overwhelmed. Each fares according to the disposition he carries with him; one walks lightly enough, the other is dragged into the deep water. For virtue is a light and buoyant thing, and all who live in her way fly like clouds, as Isaiah says, and as doves with their young ones; but sin is a heavy affair, sitting, as another of the prophets says, upon a talent of lead. If, however, this reading of the history appears to anyone forced and inapplicable, and the miracle at the Red Sea does not present itself to him as written for our profit, let him listen to the Apostle: Now all these things happened to them as types, and they are written for our admonition.

If any one supposes that this want of mutual harmony between his life and a single one of its circumstances is quite unimportant, let him be taught the meaning of our maxim by looking at the management of a house. The master of a private dwelling will not allow any untidiness or unseemliness to be seen in the house, such as a couch upset, or the table littered with rubbish, or vessels of price thrown away into dirty corners, while those which serve ignobler uses are thrust forward for entering guests to see. He has everything arranged neatly and in the proper place, where it stands to most advantage; and then he can welcome his guests, without any misgivings that he need be ashamed of opening the interior of his house to receive them. The same duty, I take it, is incumbent on that master of our tabernacle, the mind; it has to arrange everything within us, and to put each particular faculty of the soul, which the Creator has fashioned to be our implement or our vessel, to fitting and noble uses. We will now mention in detail the way in which any one might manage his life, with its present advantages, to his improvement, hoping that no one will accuse us of trifling, or over-minuteness. We advise, then, that love's passion be placed in the soul's purest shrine, as a thing chosen to be the first fruits of all our gifts, and devoted entirely to God; and when once this has been done, to keep it untouched and unsullied by any secular defilement. Then indignation, and anger, and hatred must be as watch-dogs to be roused only against attacking sins; they must follow their natural impulse only against the thief and the enemy who is creeping in to plunder the divine treasure-chamber, and who comes only for that, that he may steal, and mangle, and destroy. Courage and confidence are to be weapons in our hands to baffle any sudden surprise and attack of the wicked who advance. Hope and patience are to be the staffs to lean upon, whenever we are weary with the trials of the world. As for sorrow, we must have a stock of it ready to apply, if need should happen to arise for it, in the hour of repentance for our sins; believing at the same time that it is never useful, except to minister to that. Righteousness will be our rule of straightforwardness, guarding us from stumbling either in word or deed, and guiding us in the disposal of the faculties of our soul, as well as in the due consideration for every one we meet. The love of gain, which is a large, incalculably large, element in every soul, when once applied to the desire for God, will bless the man who has it; for he will be violent where it is right to be violent. Wisdom and prudence will be our advisers as to our best interests; they will order our lives so as never to suffer from any thoughtless folly. But suppose a man does not apply the aforesaid faculties of the soul to their proper use, but reverses their intended purpose; suppose he wastes his love upon the basest objects, and stores up his hatred only for his own kinsmen; suppose he welcomes iniquity, plays the man only against his parents, is bold only in absurdities, fixes his hopes on emptiness, chases prudence and wisdom from his company, takes gluttony and folly for his mistresses, and uses all his other opportunities in the same fashion, he would indeed be a strange and unnatural character to a degree beyond any one's power to express. If we could imagine any one putting his armour on all the wrong way, reversing the helmet so as to cover his face while the plume nodded backward, putting his feet into the cuirass, and fitting the greaves on to his breast, changing to the right side all that ought to go on the left and vice versa, and how such a hoplite would be likely to fare in battle, then we should have an idea of the fate in life which is sure to await him whose confused judgment makes him reverse the proper uses of his soul's faculties. We must therefore provide this balance in all feeling; the true sobriety of mind is naturally able to supply it; and if one had to find an exact definition of this sobriety, one might declare absolutely, that it amounts to our ordered control, by dint of wisdom and prudence, over every emotion of the soul. Moreover, such a condition in the soul will be no longer in need of any laborious method to attain to the high and heavenly realities; it will accomplish with the greatest ease that which erewhile seemed so unattainable; it will grasp the object of its search as a natural consequence of rejecting the opposite attractions. A man who comes out of darkness is necessarily in the light; a man who is not dead is necessarily alive. Indeed, if a man is not to have received his soul to no purpose, he will certainly be upon the path of truth; the prudence and the science employed to guard against error will be itself a sure guidance along the right road. Slaves who have been freed and cease to serve their former masters, the very moment they become their own masters, direct all their thoughts towards themselves so, I take it, the soul which has been freed from ministering to the body becomes at once cognizant of its own inherent energy. But this liberty consists, as we learn from the Apostle Galatians 5:1, in not again being held in the yoke of slavery, and in not being bound again, like a runaway or a criminal, with the fetters of marriage. But I must return here to what I said at first; that the perfection of this liberty does not consist only in that one point of abstaining from marriage. Let no one suppose that the prize of virginity is so insignificant and so easily won as that; as if one little observance of the flesh could settle so vital a matter. But we have seen that every man who does a sin is the servant of sin John 8:34; so that a declension towards vice in any act, or in any practice whatever, makes a slave, and still more, a branded slave, of the man, covering him through sin's lashes with bruises and seared spots. Therefore it behooves the man who grasps at the transcendent aim of all virginity to be true to himself in every respect, and to manifest his purity equally in every relation of his life. If any of the inspired words are required to aid our pleading, the Truth Itself will be sufficient to corroborate the truth when It inculcates this very kind of teaching in the veiled meaning of a Gospel Parable: the good and eatable fish are separated by the fishers' skill from the bad and poisonous fish, so that the enjoyment of the good should not be spoilt by any of the bad getting into the vessels with them. The work of true sobriety is the same; from all pursuits and habits to choose that which is pure and improving, rejecting in every case that which does not seem likely to be useful, and letting it go back into the universal and secular life, called the sea Matthew 13:47-48, in the imagery of the Parable. The Psalmist also, when expounding the doctrine of a full confession, calls this restless suffering tumultuous life, waters coming in even unto the soul, depths of waters, and a hurricane; in which sea indeed every rebellious thought sinks, as the Egyptian did, with a stone's weight into the deeps. Exodus 15:10 But all in us that is dear to God, and has a piercing insight into the truth (called Israel in the narrative), passes, but that alone, over that sea as if it were dry land, and is never reached by the bitterness and the brine of life's billows. Thus, typically, under the leadership of the Law (for Moses was a type of the Law that was coming) Israel passes unwetted over that sea, while the Egyptian who crosses in her track is overwhelmed. Each fares according to the disposition which he carries with him; one walks lightly enough, the other is dragged into the deep water. For virtue is a light and buoyant thing, and all who live in her way fly like clouds, as Isaiah says, and as doves with their young ones; but sin is a heavy affair, sitting, as another of the prophets says, upon a talent of lead. If, however, this reading of the history appears to any forced and inapplicable, and the miracle at the Red Sea does not present itself to him as written for our profit, let him listen to the Apostle: Now all these things happened unto them for types, and they are written for our admonition.

But besides other things, the action of Miriam the prophetess also gives rise to these suppositions of ours. Right after the sea was crossed, she took in her hand a dry and resonant tambourine and led the women's dance. By this tambourine the story may mean to suggest virginity, as first perfected by Miriam, whom I would indeed believe to be a type of Mary the mother of God. Just as the tambourine produces a loud sound because it is empty of all moisture and brought to the highest degree of dryness, so virginity has a clear and resonant reputation among people because it repels from itself the vital fluids of merely physical life. Thus, since Miriam's tambourine is a dead thing, and virginity is a deadening of the bodily passions, it is perhaps not very far from the bounds of probability that Miriam was a virgin. However, we can only guess and suppose—we cannot clearly prove—that this was so, and that Miriam the prophetess led a dance of virgins, even though many of the learned have stated clearly that she was unmarried, based on the fact that the history mentions neither her marriage nor her being a mother. And surely she would have been named and known not as the sister of Aaron, but by her husband, if she had had one, since the head of the woman is not the brother but the husband. But if, among a people with whom motherhood was sought after and counted as a blessing and regarded as a public duty, the grace of virginity nevertheless came to be regarded as a precious thing, how should we feel toward it, we who do not judge the Divine blessings according to the flesh? Indeed it has been revealed in the oracles of God on what occasion to conceive and to bring forth is a good thing, and what kind of fruitfulness was desired by God's saints, for both the Prophet Isaiah and the divine Apostle have made this clear and certain. The one cries, From fear of You, O Lord, have I conceived; the other boasts that he is the parent of the largest family of any, bringing to birth whole cities and nations—not only the Corinthians and Galatians whom by his labor pains he formed for the Lord, but all in the wide circuit from Jerusalem to Illyricum. His children filled the world, begotten by him in Christ through the Gospel. In the same way, the womb of the Holy Virgin, which served an Immaculate Birth, is pronounced blessed in the Gospel, for that birth did not cancel the Virginity, nor did the Virginity prevent so great a birth. When the spirit of salvation, as Isaiah names it, is being born, the desires of the flesh are useless. There is also a particular teaching of the Apostle that harmonizes with this: namely, each one of us is a double person—one the outwardly visible, whose natural fate it is to decay; the other perceptible only in the secret of the heart, yet capable of renewal. If this teaching is true—and it must be true because Wisdom is speaking there—then there is no absurdity in supposing a double marriage also that corresponds in every detail to either person. And perhaps, if one were to assert boldly that the body's virginity was the partner and agent of the inward marriage, this assertion would not be far from the probable fact.

But besides other things the action of Miriam the prophetess also gives rise to these surmisings of ours. Directly the sea was crossed she took in her hand a dry and sounding timbrel and conducted the women's dance. Exodus 15:20 By this timbrel the story may mean to imply virginity, as first perfected by Miriam; whom indeed I would believe to be a type of Mary the mother of God. Just as the timbrel emits a loud sound because it is devoid of all moisture and reduced to the highest degree of dryness, so has virginity a clear and ringing report among men because it repels from itself the vital sap of merely physical life. Thus, Miriam's timbrel being a dead thing, and virginity being a deadening of the bodily passions, it is perhaps not very far removed from the bounds of probability that Miriam was a virgin. However, we can but guess and surmise, we cannot clearly prove, that this was so, and that Miriam the prophetess led a dance of virgins, even though many of the learned have affirmed distinctly that she was unmarried, from the fact that the history makes no mention either of her marriage or of her being a mother; and surely she would have been named and known, not as the sister of Aaron Exodus 15:20, but from her husband, if she had had one; since the head of the woman is not the brother but the husband. But if, among a people with whom motherhood was sought after and classed as a blessing and regarded as a public duty, the grace of virginity, nevertheless, came to be regarded as a precious thing, how does it behoove us to feel towards it, who do not judge of the Divine blessings according to the flesh? Indeed it has been revealed in the oracles of God, on what occasion to conceive and to bring forth is a good thing, and what species of fecundity was desired by God's saints; for both the Prophet Isaiah and the divine Apostle have made this clear and certain. The one cries, From fear of You, O Lord, have I conceived; the other boasts that he is the parent of the largest family of any, bringing to the birth whole cities and nations; not the Corinthians and Galatians only whom by his travailings he moulded for the Lord, but all in the wide circuit from Jerusalem to Illyricum; his children filled the world, begotten by him in Christ through the Gospel. In the same strain the womb of the Holy Virgin, which ministered to an Immaculate Birth, is pronounced blessed in the Gospel; for that birth did not annul the Virginity, nor did the Virginity impede so great a birth. When the spirit of salvation, as Isaiah names it, is being born, the willings of the flesh are useless. There is also a particular teaching of the Apostle, which harmonizes with this; viz. each man of us is a double man 2 Corinthians 4:16; one the outwardly visible, whose natural fate it is to decay; the other perceptible only in the secret of the heart, yet capable of renovation. If this teaching is true — and it must be true because Wisdom is speaking there — then there is no absurdity in supposing a double marriage also which answers in every detail to either man; and, maybe, if one was to assert boldly that the body's virginity was the co-operator and the agent of the inward marriage, this assertion would not be much beside the probable fact.

Now it is impossible, as far as physical work goes, to practice two trades at once—for instance, farming and sailing, or metalworking and carpentry. If one is to be properly undertaken, the other must be set aside. In the same way, there are these two marriages for us to choose from: one accomplished in the flesh, the other in the spirit. Being occupied with one must necessarily mean separation from the other. Similarly, the eye cannot look at two objects at once; it must focus its particular attention on one at a time. The tongue cannot produce speech in two different languages so as to pronounce, for example, a Hebrew word and a Greek word at the same moment. The ear cannot take in at one and the same time a narrative of facts and an encouraging speech; if each distinct sound is heard separately, it will convey its ideas to the listeners' minds, but if they are mixed together and poured into the ear, an untangleable confusion of ideas will result, with one meaning getting lost in the other. Likewise, our emotional capacities do not possess a nature that can simultaneously pursue the pleasures of the senses and seek the spiritual union. Besides, both these goals cannot be achieved by the same way of life. Self-control, mortification of the passions, and rejection of bodily needs serve the one union, but everything opposite to these serves bodily existence. When two masters stand before us to choose between, and we cannot be subject to both—for no man can serve two masters—the wise person will choose the one most beneficial to himself. So when two marriages stand before us to choose between, and we cannot contract both—for he who is unmarried cares for the things of the Lord, but he who is married cares for the things of the world—I say again that a sound mind would aim not to miss choosing the more profitable one, and not to be ignorant of the path that leads to it, a path that can only be learned through a comparison like the following. In the case of a worldly marriage, a man who is anxious to avoid appearing completely insignificant pays close attention to physical health, attractive appearance, sufficient resources, and protection from any shameful revelations about his past or his family background, for this way he thinks things will most likely turn out as he wishes. In exactly the same way, the man who is seeking the spiritual union will first of all present himself, through the renewal of his mind, as a young man without a single trace of age upon him. Next, he will reveal a lineage rich in that in which it is a noble ambition to be rich—not taking pride in worldly wealth, but delighting only in heavenly treasures. As for family distinction, he will not boast of what comes through mere inheritance even to many worthless people, but of what is gained through the successful efforts of his own zeal and labors—a distinction that only those can boast of who are sons of the light and children of God, and are called nobles from the sunrise because of their splendid deeds. He will not try to gain strength and health through physical training and eating, but through everything opposite to this, perfecting the spirit's strength in the body's weakness. I could also describe the suitor's gifts to the bride in such a wedding; they are not obtained with money that perishes, but are given from the wealth belonging to the soul. Would you know their names? You must hear from Paul, that excellent adorner of the Bride, what constitutes the wealth of those who in everything commend themselves. He mentions much else that is priceless in it, and adds "in chastity," and besides this all the recognized fruits of the spirit from any source whatever are gifts of this marriage. If a man is going to follow Solomon's advice and take as partner and life-companion that true Wisdom of which he says, "Love her, and she shall keep you; honor her, that she may embrace you," then he will prepare himself in a manner worthy of such a love, so as to feast with all the joyful wedding guests in spotless clothing, and not be thrown out while claiming to sit at that feast for not having put on the wedding garment. It is clear, moreover, that the argument applies equally to men and women, to move them toward such a marriage. "There is neither male nor female," the Apostle says; "Christ is all, and in all," and so it is equally reasonable that he who is in love with wisdom should possess the Object of his passionate desire, Who is the True Wisdom, and that the soul which clings to the undying Bridegroom should have the fulfillment of her love for the true Wisdom, which is God. We have now sufficiently revealed the nature of the spiritual union and the Object of the pure and heavenly Love.

Now it is impossible, as far as manual exercise goes, to ply two arts at once; for instance, husbandry and sailing, or tinkering and carpentering. If one is to be honestly taken in hand, the other must be left alone. Just so, there are these two marriages for our choice, the one effected in the flesh, the other in the spirit; and preoccupation in the one must cause of necessity alienation from the other. No more is the eye able to look at two objects at once; but it must concentrate its special attention on one at a time; no more can the tongue effect utterances in two different languages, so as to pronounce, for instance, a Hebrew word and a Greek word in the same moment: no more can the ear take in at one and the same time a narrative of facts, and a hortatory discourse; if each special tone is heard separately, it will impress its ideas upon the hearers' minds; but if they are combined and so poured into the ear, an inextricable confusion of ideas will be the result, one meaning being mutually lost in the other: and no more, by analogy, do our emotional powers possess a nature which can at once pursue the pleasures of sense and court the spiritual union; nor, besides, can both those ends be gained by the same courses of life; continence, mortification of the passions, scorn of fleshly needs, are the agents of the one union; but all that are the reverse of these are the agents of bodily habitation. As, when two masters are before us to choose between, and we cannot be subject to both, for no man can serve two masters, he who is wise will choose the one most useful to himself, so, when two marriages are before us to choose between, and we cannot contract both, for he that is unmarried cares for the things of the Lord, but he that is married cares for the things of the world 1 Corinthians 7:32, I repeat that it would be the aim of a sound mind not to miss choosing the more profitable one; and not to be ignorant either of the way which will lead it to this, a way which cannot be learned but by some such comparison as the following. In the case of a marriage of this world a man who is anxious to avoid appearing altogether insignificant pays the greatest attention both to physical health, and becoming adornment, and amplitude of means and the security from any disgraceful revelations as to his antecedents or his parentage; for so he thinks things will be most likely to turn out as he wishes. Now just in the same way the man who is courting the spiritual alliance will first of all display himself, by the renewal of his mind, a young man, without a single touch of age upon him; next he will reveal a lineage rich in that in which it is a noble ambition to be rich, not priding himself on worldly wealth, but luxuriating only in the heavenly treasures. As for family distinction, he will not vaunt that which comes by the mere routine of devolution even to numbers of the worthless, but that which is gained by the successful efforts of his own zeal and labours; a distinction which only those can boast of who are sons of the light and children of God, and are styled nobles from the sunrise because of their splendid deeds. Strength and health he will not try to gain by bodily training and feeding, but by all that is the contrary of this, perfecting the spirit's strength in the body's weakness. I could tell also of the suitor's gifts to the bride in such a wedding; they are not procured by the money that perishes, but are contributed out of the wealth peculiar to the soul. Would you know their names? You must hear from Paul, that excellent adorner of the Bride, in what the wealth of those consists who in everything commend themselves. He mentions much else that is priceless in it, and adds, in chastity 2 Corinthians 6:6; and besides this all the recognized fruits of the spirit from any quarter whatever are gifts of this marriage. If a man is going to carry out the advice of Solomon and take for helpmate and life-companion that true Wisdom of which he says, Love her, and she shall keep you, honour her, that she may embrace you Proverbs 4:6, then he will prepare himself in a manner worthy of such a love, so as to feast with all the joyous wedding guests in spotless raiment, and not be cast forth, while claiming to sit at that feast, for not having put on the wedding garment. It is plain moreover that the argument applies equally to men and women, to move them towards such a marriage. There is neither male nor female Galatians 3:28, the Apostle says; Christ is all, and in all Colossians 3:11; and so it is equally reasonable that he who is enamoured of wisdom should hold the Object of his passionate desire, Who is the True Wisdom; and that the soul which cleaves to the undying Bridegroom should have the fruition of her love for the true Wisdom, which is God. We have now sufficiently revealed the nature of the spiritual union, and the Object of the pure and heavenly Love.

It is perfectly clear that no one can approach the purity of the Divine Being unless he has first become pure himself. He must therefore place a high, strong wall of separation between himself and the pleasures of the senses, so that as he approaches the Deity, the purity of his own heart will not become soiled again. Such an impregnable wall will be found in complete estrangement from everything in which passion operates.

It is perfectly clear that no one can come near the purity of the Divine Being who has not first himself become such; he must therefore place between himself and the pleasures of the senses a high strong wall of separation, so that in this his approach to the Deity the purity of his own heart may not become soiled again. Such an impregnable wall will be found in a complete estrangement from everything wherein passion operates.

Now pleasure is one in kind, as we learn from the experts. Like water flowing from a single fountain into various channels, it spreads itself over the pleasure-lover through the different avenues of the senses. The result is that when a person succumbs to pleasure through any particular sensation, that sensation has wounded his heart. This agrees with the teaching given from the Divine lips, that whoever has satisfied the lust of the eyes has already received the harm in his heart. I take it that our Lord was speaking in that particular example about any of the senses, so that we might well extend His saying and add: He who has heard in order to lust, and what follows, He who has touched in order to lust, He who has lowered any faculty within us to the service of pleasure, has sinned in his heart.

Now pleasure is one in kind, as we learn from the experts; as water parted into various channels from one single fountain, it spreads itself over the pleasure-lover through the various avenues of the senses; so that it has been on his heart that the man, who through any one particular sensation succumbs to the resulting pleasure, has received a wound from that sensation. This accords with the teaching given from the Divine lips, that he who has satisfied the lust of the eyes has received the mischief already in his heart; for I take it that our Lord was speaking in that particular example of any of the senses; so that we might well carry on His saying, and add, He who has heard, to lust after, and what follows, He who has touched to lust after, He who has lowered any faculty within us to the service of pleasure, has sinned in his heart.

To prevent this, we need to apply to our own lives the rule of complete self-control: never let the mind dwell on anything that contains the lure of pleasure. Above all, we must be especially watchful against the pleasure of taste. This seems to be the most deeply rooted pleasure and to be, in a sense, the mother of all forbidden enjoyment. The pleasures of eating and drinking, when they lead to unlimited excess, inflict on the body the penalty of the most terrible sufferings, since overindulgence causes most painful diseases. To maintain continuous peace in the body, undisturbed by the pains that come from overeating, we must commit ourselves to a more moderate diet. We should make the body's actual need on each occasion—not the pleasure of eating—the measure and limit of what we consume. If sweetness nevertheless accompanies the satisfaction of our need (because hunger knows how to make everything taste sweet, and through the intensity of appetite gives the sensation of pleasure to whatever supply meets the need), we must not reject the satisfaction just because enjoyment results from it, nor should we make that enjoyment our primary goal. In everything we must choose the appropriate amount and leave untouched whatever merely gratifies the senses.

To prevent this, then, we want to apply to our own lives that rule of all temperance, never to let the mind dwell on anything wherein pleasure's bait is hid; but above all to be specially watchful against the pleasure of taste. For that seems in a way the most deeply rooted, and to be the mother as it were of all forbidden enjoyment. The pleasures of eating and drinking, leading to boundless excess, inflict upon the body the doom of the most dreadful sufferings; for over-indulgence is the parent of most of the painful diseases. To secure for the body a continuous tranquillity, unstirred by the pains of surfeit, we must make up our minds to a more sparing regimen, and constitute the need of it on each occasion not the pleasure of it, as the measure and limit of our indulgence. If the sweetness will nevertheless mingle itself with the satisfaction of the need (for hunger knows how to sweeten everything, and by the vehemence of appetite she gives the zest of pleasure to every discoverable supply of the need), we must not because of the resulting enjoyment reject the satisfaction, nor yet make this latter our leading aim. In everything we must select the expedient quantity, and leave untouched what merely feasts the senses.

We see how farmers have a method for separating the chaff, which is mixed with the wheat, in order to use each for its proper purpose—one for feeding people, the other for burning and feeding animals. The worker in the field of temperance will likewise distinguish satisfaction from mere delight, and will throw this latter nature to savages whose end is to be burned, as the Apostle says, but will take the other, in proportion to actual need, with thankfulness. Many people, however, slide into the very opposite kind of excess, and unconsciously, in their over-preciseness, work hard against their own goal. They let their soul fall down the other side from the heights of divine elevation to the level of dull thoughts and activities, where their minds are so focused on rules that merely affect the body that they can no longer walk in their heavenly freedom and look upward. Their only interest is in this tormenting and afflicting of the flesh. It would be good, then, to give this also careful thought, so as to guard equally against either extreme, neither stifling the mind beneath the wound of the flesh, nor, on the other hand, through unnecessarily inflicted weakening, draining and lowering the powers so that it can think of nothing but the body's pain. Let everyone remember that wise precept which warns us not to turn to the right hand or to the left. I once heard a physician I know, in the course of explaining the secrets of his art, say that our body consists of four elements, not of the same type, but inclined to conflict. Yet the hot penetrated the cold, and an equally unexpected union of the wet and the dry took place, the opposites of each pair being brought into contact by their relationship to the intervening pair. He added an extremely subtle explanation of this account from his studies in nature. Each of these elements was in its essence directly opposed to its opposite, but then it had two other qualities lying on each side of it, and by virtue of its kinship with them it came into contact with its opposite. For example, the cold and the hot each unite with the wet or the dry, and again, the wet and the dry each unite with the hot or the cold. So this sameness of quality, when it shows itself in opposites, is itself what brings about the union of those opposites. What business is it of mine, however, to explain exactly the details of this change from this mutual separation and repugnance of nature to this mutual union through the medium of related qualities, except for the purpose for which we mentioned it? And that purpose was to add that the author of this analysis of the body's constitution advised that all possible care be taken to preserve a balance between these properties, for in fact health consists in not letting any one of them gain mastery within us. If his teaching has truth in it, then, for our health to continue, we must secure such a habit, and by no irregularity of diet produce either an excess or a defect in any member of these our constituent elements. The chariot driver, if the young horses he has to drive will not work well together, does not urge a fast one with the whip and rein in a slow one, nor, again, does he let a horse that shies in the traces or is hard-mouthed gallop its own way to the confusion of orderly driving. Instead, he quickens the pace of the first, checks the second, reaches the third with cuts of his whip, until he has made them all breathe evenly together in a straight course. Now our mind in the same way holds in its grasp the reins of this chariot of the body. In that capacity it will not devise, in youth, when heat of temperament is abundant, ways of heightening that fever, nor will it multiply the cooling and the thinning things when the body is already chilled by illness or by age. In the case of all these physical qualities it will be guided by Scripture, so as actually to fulfill it: He that gathered much had nothing over, and he that had gathered little had no lack. It will cut back immoderate lengths in either direction, and so will be careful to replenish where there is much lack. The inefficiency of the body from either cause will be what it guards against. It will train the flesh, neither making it wild and ungovernable by excessive pampering, nor sickly and unstrung and nerveless for the required work by immoderate mortification. That is temperance's highest aim. It looks not to the afflicting of the body, but to the peaceful action of the soul's functions.

We see how the husbandmen have a method for separating the chaff, which is united with the wheat, with a view to employ each for its proper purpose, the one for the sustenance of man, the other for burning and the feeding of animals. The labourer in the field of temperance will in like manner distinguish the satisfaction from the mere delight, and will fling this latter nature to savages whose end is to be burned, as the Apostle says, but will take the other, in proportion to the actual need, with thankfulness. Many, however, slide into the very opposite kind of excess, and unconsciously to themselves, in their over-preciseness, laboriously thwart their own design; they let their soul fall down the other side from the heights of Divine elevation to the level of dull thoughts and occupations, where their minds are so bent upon regulations which merely affect the body, that they can no longer walk in their heavenly freedom and gaze above; their only inclination is to this tormenting and afflicting of the flesh. It would be well, then, to give this also careful thought, so as to be equally on our guard against either over-amount, neither stifling the mind beneath the wound of the flesh, nor, on the other hand, by gratuitously inflicted weakenings sapping and lowering the powers, so that it can have no thought but of the body's pain; and let every one remember that wise precept, which warns us from turning to the right hand or to the left. I have heard a certain physician of my acquaintance, in the course of explaining the secrets of his art, say that our body consists of four elements, not of the same species, but disposed to be conflicting: yet the hot penetrated the cold, and an equally unexpected union of the wet and the dry took place, the contradictories of each pair being brought into contact by their relationship to the intervening pair. He added an extremely subtle explanation of this account of his studies in nature. Each of these elements was in its essence diametrically opposed to its contradictory; but then it had two other qualities lying on each side of it, and by virtue of its kinship with them it came into contact with its contradictory; for example, the cold and the hot each unite with the wet, or the dry; and again, the wet and the dry each unite with the hot, or the cold: and so this sameness of quality, when it manifests itself in contradictories, is itself the agent which affects the union of those contradictories. What business of mine, however, is it to explain exactly the details of this change from this mutual separation and repugnance of nature, to this mutual union through the medium of kindred qualities, except for the purpose for which we mentioned it? And that purpose was to add that the author of this analysis of the body's constitution advised that all possible care be taken to preserve a balance between these properties, for that in fact health consisted in not letting any one of them gain the mastery within us. If his doctrine has truth in it, then, for our health's continuance, we must secure such a habit, and by no irregularity of diet produce either an excess or a defect in any member of these our constituent elements. The chariot-master, if the young horses which he has to drive will not work well together, does not urge a fast one with the whip, and rein in a slow one; nor, again, does he let a horse that shies in the traces or is hard-mouthed gallop his own way to the confusion of orderly driving; but he quickens the pace of the first, checks the second, reaches the third with cuts of his whip, till he has made them all breathe evenly together in a straight career. Now our mind in like manner holds in its grasp the reins of this chariot of the body; and in that capacity it will not devise, in the time of youth, when heat of temperament is abundant, ways of heightening that fever; nor will it multiply the cooling and the thinning things when the body is already chilled by illness or by time; and in the case of all these physical qualities it will be guided by the Scripture, so as actually to realize it: He that gathered much had nothing over; and he that had gathered little had no lack. It will curtail immoderate lengths in either direction, and so will be careful to replenish where there is much lack. The inefficiency of the body from either cause will be that which it guards against; it will train the flesh, neither making it wild and ungovernable by excessive pampering, nor sickly and unstrung and nerveless for the required work by immoderate mortification. That is temperance's highest aim; it looks not to the afflicting of the body, but to the peaceful action of the soul's functions.

The details of how someone who has chosen this way of life should live—what things to avoid, what practices to pursue, the rules of self-control, the complete method of training, and all the daily habits that contribute to this great goal—have been addressed in certain written instruction manuals for those who want specifics. Yet there is a clearer guide than written instruction, and that is actual practice. There is nothing troublesome in the principle that when we set out on a long journey or voyage, we should get an instructor. But as the Apostle says, the word is near you; grace begins at home. There is the workshop of all virtues; there this life has been perfected through continuous progress toward complete maturity. There, whether people are silent or speaking, there is ample opportunity to be taught this heavenly way of life through actually living it. Any theory separated from living examples, no matter how beautifully presented, is like a lifeless statue with an appearance of healthy color applied in paints and dyes. But the person who both acts and teaches, as the Gospel tells us, is truly alive, has real beauty, and is effective and dynamic. We must go to such a person if we intend, according to Scripture, to maintain virginity. Someone who wants to learn a foreign language cannot teach himself competently; he gets experts to teach him, and then he can speak with foreigners. Similarly, for this exalted life, which does not follow nature's ordinary path but is separated from it by the newness of its direction, a person cannot be thoroughly instructed unless he places himself under someone who has himself lived it perfectly. Indeed, in all other professions, a student is more likely to succeed if he gains scientific knowledge of each aspect of his chosen subject from teachers than if he tries to study it alone. This particular profession is not one where everything is so obvious that deciding our best course is necessarily left to our own judgment. It is one where venturing blindly into the unknown immediately brings us into danger. Medical science once did not exist; it came into being through human experimentation and was gradually revealed through various observations. Healing and harmful drugs became known through the testimony of those who had tested them, and this distinction was incorporated into the theory of the art, so that the careful observations of earlier practitioners became instruction for their successors. Now anyone studying to master this art does not need to discover at his own risk what any drug does, whether it is poison or medicine; he only needs to learn the established facts from others and can then practice successfully. The same is true for that medicine of the soul, philosophy, from which we learn the remedy for every weakness that can afflict the soul. We do not need to search for knowledge of these remedies through guesswork and speculation; we have abundant means of learning them from someone who through long and extensive experience has gained the knowledge we seek. In any matter, youth is generally an unreliable guide, and it would be difficult to find any important undertaking succeeding where older wisdom has not been included in the planning. Even in all other endeavors, we must take greater precautions against failure in proportion to their importance, for in them too the rash plans of youth have brought loss—of property, for instance, or have forced the surrender of worldly position and even reputation. But in this great and sublime calling, what is at stake is not property, or worldly glory lasting its brief time, or any external fortune—such things, whether they turn out well or badly, the wise consider unimportant. Here recklessness can affect the soul itself, and we face the terrible danger not of losing any of those other things whose recovery might still be possible, but of ruining our very selves and making the soul bankrupt. A person who has spent or lost his inheritance does not despair, as long as he is alive, of perhaps regaining his former prosperity through various means. But the person who has cast himself out from this calling deprives himself of all hope of returning to better things. Therefore, since most people embrace virginity while still young and immature in understanding, this should be their first task: to find a suitable guide and teacher for this path, lest in their present ignorance they should stray from the straight course and make new paths of their own in trackless wilderness. Two are better than one, says the Preacher, but a single person is easily defeated by the enemy who threatens the path leading to God. And truly, woe to the one who is alone when he falls, for he has no one else to help him up. Some people in their enthusiasm for the stricter life have shown clever eagerness, but as if at the very moment of their choice they had already achieved perfection, their pride has led to a terrible fall, and they have been tripped up by foolishly deluding themselves into thinking that whatever their own mind inclined them toward was true beauty. Among these are those whom Wisdom calls the lazy ones, who scatter thorns on their path, who consider it a moral loss to care about keeping the commandments, who erase the Apostolic teaching from their own minds and instead of eating bread earned by their own honest work, depend on others' bread and turn their very idleness into a way of life. From this group also come the Dreamers, who put more faith in the illusions of their dreams than in Gospel teaching and call their own fantasies revelations. From here too come those who creep into houses, and others who suppose virtue consists in savage rudeness and have never known the fruits of patience and humility of spirit. Who could list all the traps into which anyone might fall by refusing to seek out people of godly reputation? Why, we have known ascetics of this kind who have persisted in fasting even to death, as if God were pleased with such sacrifices; and again, others who rush to the diametrically opposite extreme, practicing celibacy in name only and leading a life no different from worldly life. For they not only indulge in the pleasures of the table but are openly known to have a woman in their homes, and they call such a friendship brotherly affection, as if they could hide their own thought, which is inclined toward evil, under a sacred term. It is because of them that this pure and holy profession of virginity is blasphemed among the Gentiles.

Now the details of the life of him who has chosen to live in such a philosophy as this, the things to be avoided, the exercises to be engaged in, the rules of temperance, the whole method of the training, and all the daily regimen which contributes towards this great end, has been dealt with in certain written manuals of instruction for the benefit of those who love details. Yet there is a plainer guide to be found than verbal instruction; and that is practice: and there is nothing vexatious in the maxim that when we are undertaking a long journey or voyage we should get an instructor. But, says the Apostle, the word is near you; the grace begins at home; there is the manufactory of all the virtues; there this life has become exquisitely refined by a continual progress towards consummate perfection; there, whether men are silent or whether they speak, there is large opportunity for being instructed in this heavenly citizenship through the actual practice of it. Any theory divorced from living examples, however admirably it may be dressed out, is like the unbreathing statue, with its show of a blooming complexion impressed in tints and colors; but the man who acts as well as teaches, as the Gospel tells us, he is the man who is truly living, and has the bloom of beauty, and is efficient and stirring. It is to him that we must go, if we mean, according to the saying of Scripture, to retain virginity. One who wants to learn a foreign language is not a competent instructor of himself; he gets himself taught by experts, and can then talk with foreigners. So, for this high life, which does not advance in nature's groove, but is estranged from her by the novelty of its course, a man cannot be instructed thoroughly unless he puts himself into the hands of one who has himself led it in perfection; and indeed in all the other professions of life the candidate is more likely to achieve success if he gets from tutors a scientific knowledge of each part of the subject of his choice, than if he undertook to study it by himself; and this particular profession is not one where everything is so clear that judgment as to our best course in it is necessarily left to ourselves; it is one where to hazard a step into the unknown at once brings us into danger. The science of medicine once did not exist; it has come into being by the experiments which men have made, and has gradually been revealed through their various observations; the healing and the harmful drug became known from the attestation of those who had tried them, and this distinction was adopted into the theory of the art, so that the close observation of former practitioners became a precept for those who succeeded; and now any one who studies to attain this art is under no necessity to ascertain at his own peril the power of any drug, whether it be a poison or a medicine; he has only to learn from others the known facts, and may then practise with success. It is so also with that medicine of the soul, philosophy, from which we learn the remedy for every weakness that can touch the soul. We need not hunt after a knowledge of these remedies by dint of guess-work and surmisings; we have abundant means of learning them from him who by a long and rich experience has gained the possession which we seek. In any matter youth is generally a giddy guide; and it would not be easy to find anything of importance succeeding, in which gray hairs have not been called in to share in the deliberations. Even in all other undertakings we must, in proportion to their greater importance, take the more precaution against failure; for in them too the thoughtless designs of youth have brought loss; on property, for instance; or have compelled the surrender of a position in the world, and even of renown. But in this mighty and sublime ambition it is not property, or secular glory lasting for its hour, or any external fortune, that is at stake — of such things, whether they settle themselves well or the reverse, the wise take small account — here rashness can affect the soul itself; and we run the awful hazard, not of losing any of those other things whose recovery even may perhaps be possible, but of ruining our very selves and making the soul a bankrupt. A man who has spent or lost his patrimony does not despair, as long as he is in the land of the living, of perchance coming again through contrivances into his former competence; but the man who has ejected himself from this calling, deprives himself as well of all hope of a return to better things. Therefore, since most embrace virginity while still young and unformed in understanding, this before anything else should be their employment, to search out a fitting guide and master of this way, lest, in their present ignorance, they should wander from the direct route, and strike out new paths of their own in trackless wilds. Two are better than one, says the Preacher Ecclesiastes 4:9; but a single one is easily vanquished by the foe who infests the path which leads to God; and verily woe to him that is alone when he falls, for he has not another to help him up. Some ere now in their enthusiasm for the stricter life have shown a dexterous alacrity; but, as if in the very moment of their choice they had already touched perfection, their pride has had a shocking fall, and they have been tripped up from madly deluding themselves into thinking that that to which their own mind inclined them was the true beauty. In this number are those whom Wisdom calls the slothful ones Proverbs 15:19, who bestrew their way with thorns; who think it a moral loss to be anxious about keeping the commandments; who erase from their own minds the Apostolic teaching, and instead of eating the bread of their own honest earning fix on that of others, and make their idleness itself into an art of living. From this number, too, come the Dreamers, who put more faith in the illusions of their dreams than in the Gospel teaching, and style their own phantasies revelations. Hence, too, those who creep into the houses; and again others who suppose virtue to consist in savage bearishness, and have never known the fruits of long-suffering and humility of spirit. Who could enumerate all the pitfalls into which any one might slip, from refusing to have recourse to men of godly celebrity? Why, we have known ascetics of this class who have persisted in their fasting even unto death, as if with such sacrifices God were well pleased Hebrews 13:16; and, again, others who rush off into the extreme diametrically opposite, practising celibacy in name only and leading a life in no way different from the secular; for they not only indulge in the pleasures of the table, but are openly known to have a woman in their houses; and they call such a friendship a brotherly affection, as if, forsooth, they could veil their own thought, which is inclined to evil, under a sacred term. It is owing to them that this pure and holy profession of virginity is blasphemed among the Gentiles.

It would benefit young people to avoid deciding too quickly on their future path in this calling. Indeed, examples of holy lives for them to follow are readily available in the present generation. Holiness now abounds and permeates our world more than ever before. Through gradual progress it has reached the highest point of perfection, and anyone who follows such footsteps in his daily life may catch this radiance. Anyone who tracks the scent of this perfume that has gone before may be soaked in the sweet fragrances of Christ Himself. Just as when one torch is lit, flame is passed to all the nearby candlesticks without the first light being diminished or burning with unequal brightness where it has been caught, so the holiness of a life is passed from the one who has achieved it to those who come within his circle. The Prophet speaks truly when he says that one who lives with a man who is holy and clean and elect will become such himself. If you want to know the sure signs that will secure for you the genuine model, it is not difficult to take a sketch from life. If you see a man standing between death and life in such a way that he selects from each what helps the contemplative path, never letting death's numbness paralyze his zeal to keep all the commandments, nor yet placing both feet in the world of the living since he has weaned himself from worldly ambitions—a man who remains more insensitive than the dead themselves to everything that is found on examination to be living for the flesh, but full of life and energy and strength in the achievements of virtue, which are the sure marks of the spiritual life—then look to that man for the rule of your life. Let him be the guiding light of your devotional path, as the constellations that never set are to the pilot. Imitate both his youth and his old age, or rather, imitate the old man and the young man who are joined in him. For even now in his declining years, time has not dulled the keen activity of his soul, nor was his youth spent on the well-known pursuits of youth. In both seasons of life he has shown a remarkable combination of opposites, or rather an exchange of the distinctive qualities of each. In old age he shows, in pursuing the good, a young man's energy, while in the time of youth, in the direction of evil, his passions were powerless. If you want to know what the passions of that glorious youth were, you will have for your imitation the intensity and fervor of his godlike love of wisdom, which grew with him from childhood and has continued with him into old age. But if you cannot gaze upon him, as the weak-sighted cannot gaze upon the sun, at least watch that band of holy men who are gathered beneath him and who by the light of their lives are a model for this age. God has placed them as a beacon for us who live around them. Many among them were young men in their prime who have grown gray in the unbroken practice of continence and temperance. They were old in wisdom before their time and in character surpassed their years. The only love they experienced was that of wisdom—not that their natural instincts were different from others, for in all alike the flesh lusts against the spirit, but they listened carefully to the one who said that Temperance is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her. They sailed across the swelling waves of existence upon this tree of life as upon a small boat and anchored in the harbor of the will of God. Now enviable after so fine a voyage, they rest their souls in that sunny, cloudless calm. They now ride safely themselves at the anchor of a good hope, far out of reach of the turmoil of the waves, and for others who will follow they radiate the splendor of their lives as beacon-fires on some high watchtower. We indeed have a mark to guide us safely over the ocean of temptations. Why then make the overly curious inquiry whether some with such thoughts as these have not fallen nevertheless, and why therefore despair as if the achievement were beyond your reach? Look on the one who has succeeded and boldly launch upon the voyage with confidence that it will be prosperous. Sail on under the breeze of the Holy Spirit with Christ your pilot and with the oars of good cheer. For those who go down to the sea in ships and occupy their business in great waters do not let the shipwreck that has befallen someone else prevent them from being of good cheer. They rather shield their hearts in this very confidence and so press on to accomplish their successful feat. Surely it is the most absurd thing in the world to condemn the one who has slipped in a course that requires the greatest precision, while one considers those who all their lives have been growing old in failures and in errors to have chosen the better part. If one single approach to sin is such an awful thing that you deem it safer not to take up this loftier aim at all, how much more awful a thing it is to make sin the practice of a whole life and to remain thereby absolutely ignorant of the purer path! How can you in your worldly life obey the Crucified? How can you, healthy in sin, obey Him Who died to sin? How can you, who are not crucified to the world and will not accept the mortification of the flesh, obey Him Who bids you follow after Him and Who bore the Cross in His own body as a trophy from the foe? How can you obey Paul when he exhorts you to present your body a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, when you are conformed to this world and not transformed by the renewing of your mind, when you are not walking in this newness of life but still pursuing the routine of the old man? How can you be a priest unto God, anointed though you are for this very office, to offer a gift to God—a gift in no way another's, no counterfeit gift from sources outside yourself, but a gift that is truly your own, namely the inner man, who must be perfect and blameless, as it is required of a lamb to be without spot or blemish? How can you offer this to God when you do not listen to the law forbidding the unclean to offer sacrifices? If you long for God to manifest Himself to you, why do you not hear Moses when he commands the people to be pure from the stains of marriage so that they may receive the vision of God? If all this seems little in your eyes—to be crucified with Christ, to present yourself a sacrifice to God, to become a priest unto the most high God, to make yourself worthy of the vision of the Almighty—what higher blessings than these can we imagine for you, if indeed you make light of the consequences of these as well? And the consequence of being crucified with Christ is that we shall live with Him and be glorified with Him and reign with Him. The consequence of presenting ourselves to God is that we shall be changed from the rank of human nature and human dignity to that of Angels, for so Daniel speaks, that thousand thousands stood before him. He too who has taken his share in the true priesthood and placed himself beside the Great High Priest remains altogether himself a priest forever, prevented for eternity from remaining any more in death. To say again that one makes oneself worthy to see God produces no less a result than this: that one is made worthy to see God. Indeed, the crown of every hope and of every desire, of every blessing and of every promise of God, and of all those unspeakable delights which we believe to exist beyond our perception and our knowledge—the crowning result of them all, I say, is this. Moses longed earnestly to see it, and many prophets and kings have desired to see the same, but the only class deemed worthy of it are the pure in heart, those who are and are called blessed for this very reason, that they shall see God. Therefore we would that you too should become crucified with Christ, a holy priest standing before God, a pure offering in all chastity, preparing yourself by your own holiness for God's coming, that you also may have a pure heart in which to see God, according to the promise of God and of our Saviour Jesus Christ, to Whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

It would therefore be to their profit, for the young to refrain from laying down for themselves their future course in this profession; and indeed, examples of holy lives for them to follow are not wanting in the living generation. Now, if ever before, saintliness abounds and penetrates our world; by gradual advances it has reached the highest mark of perfectness; and one who follows such footsteps in his daily rounds may catch this halo; one who tracks the scent of this preceding perfume may be drenched in the sweet odours of Christ Himself. As, when one torch has been fired, flame is transmitted to all the neighbouring candlesticks, without either the first light being lessened or blazing with unequal brilliance on the other points where it has been caught; so the saintliness of a life is transmitted from him who has achieved it, to those who come within his circle; for there is truth in the Prophet's saying, that one who lives with a man who is holy and clean and elect, will become such himself. If you would wish to know the sure signs, which will secure you the real model, it is not hard to take a sketch from life. If you see a man so standing between death and life, as to select from each helps for the contemplative course, never letting death's stupor paralyze his zeal to keep all the commandments, nor yet placing both feet in the world of the living, since he has weaned himself from secular ambitions;– a man who remains more insensate than the dead themselves to everything that is found on examination to be living for the flesh, but instinct with life and energy and strength in the achievements of virtue, which are the sure marks of the spiritual life — then look to that man for the rule of your life; let him be the leading light of your course of devotion, as the constellations that never set are to the pilot; imitate his youth and his gray hairs: or, rather, imitate the old man and the stripling who are joined in him; for even now in his declining years time has not blunted the keen activity of his soul, nor was his youth active in the sphere of youth's well-known employments; in both seasons of life he has shown a wonderful combination of opposites, or rather an exchange of the peculiar qualities of each; for in age he shows, in the direction of the good, a young man's energy, while, in the hours of youth, in the direction of evil, his passions were powerless. If you wish to know what were the passions of that glorious youth of his, you will have for your imitation the intensity and glow of his godlike love of wisdom, which grew with him from his childhood, and has continued with him into his old age. But if you cannot gaze upon him, as the weak-sighted cannot gaze upon the sun, at all events watch that band of holy men who are ranged beneath him, and who by the illumination of their lives are a model for this age. God has placed them as a beacon for us who live around; many among them have been young men there in their prime, and have grown gray in the unbroken practice of continence and temperance; they were old in reasonableness before their time, and in character outstripped their years. The only love they tasted was that of wisdom; not that their natural instincts were different from the rest; for in all alike the flesh lusts against the spirit Galatians 5:17; but they listened to some purpose to him who said that Temperance is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her; and they sailed across the swelling billows of existence upon this tree of life, as upon a skiff; and anchored in the haven of the will of God; enviable now after so fair a voyage, they rest their souls in that sunny cloudless calm. They now ride safe themselves at the anchor of a good hope, far out of reach of the tumult of the billows; and for others who will follow they radiate the splendour of their lives as beacon-fires on some high watchtower. We have indeed a mark to guide us safely over the ocean of temptations; and why make the too curious inquiry, whether some with such thoughts as these have not fallen nevertheless, and why therefore despair, as if the achievement was beyond your reach? Look on him who has succeeded, and boldly launch upon the voyage with confidence that it will be prosperous, and sail on under the breeze of the Holy Spirit with Christ your pilot and with the oarage of good cheer. For those who go down to the sea in ships and occupy their business in great waters do not let the shipwreck that has befallen some one else prevent their being of good cheer; they rather shield their hearts in this very confidence, and so sweep on to accomplish their successful feat. Surely it is the most absurd thing in the world to reprobate him who has slipped in a course which requires the greatest nicety, while one considers those who all their lives have been growing old in failures and in errors, to have chosen the better part. If one single approach to sin is such an awful thing that you deem it safer not to take in hand at all this loftier aim, how much more awful a thing it is to make sin the practice of a whole life, and to remain thereby absolutely ignorant of the purer course! How can you in your full life obey the Crucified? How can you, hale in sin, obey Him Who died to sin? How can you, who are not crucified to the world, and will not accept the mortification of the flesh, obey Him Who bids you follow after Him, and Who bore the Cross in His own body, as a trophy from the foe? How can you obey Paul when he exhorts you to present your body a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, when you are conformed to this world, and not transformed by the renewing of your mind, when you are not walking in this newness of life, but still pursuing the routine of the old man? How can you be a priest unto God, anointed though you are for this very office, to offer a gift to God; a gift in no way another's, no counterfeited gift from sources outside yourself, but a gift that is really your own, namely, the inner man Ephesians 3:16, who must be perfect and blameless, as it is required of a lamb to be without spot or blemish? How can you offer this to God, when you do not listen to the law forbidding the unclean to offer sacrifices? If you long for God to manifest Himself to you, why do you not hear Moses, when he commands the people to be pure from the stains of marriage, that they may take in the vision of God. Exodus 19:15 If this all seems little in your eyes, to be crucified with Christ, to present yourself a sacrifice to God, to become a priest unto the most high God, to make yourself worthy of the vision of the Almighty, what higher blessings than these can we imagine for you, if indeed you make light of the consequences of these as well? And the consequence of being crucified with Christ is that we shall live with Him, and be glorified with Him, and reign with Him; and the consequence of presenting ourselves to God is that we shall be changed from the rank of human nature and human dignity to that of Angels; for so speaks Daniel, that thousand thousands stood before him Daniel 7:10. He too who has taken his share in the true priesthood and placed himself beside the Great High Priest remains altogether himself a priest for ever, prevented for eternity from remaining any more in death. To say, again, that one makes oneself worthy to see God, produces no less a result than this; that one is made worthy to see God. Indeed, the crown of every hope, and of every desire, of every blessing, and of every promise of God, and of all those unspeakable delights which we believe to exist beyond our perception and our knowledge — the crowning result of them all, I say, is this. Moses longed earnestly to see it, and many prophets and kings have desired to see the same: but the only class deemed worthy of it are the pure in heart, those who are, and are named blessed, for this very reason, that they shall see God. Wherefore we would that you too should become crucified with Christ, a holy priest standing before God, a pure offering in all chastity, preparing yourself by your own holiness for God's coming; that you also may have a pure heart in which to see God, according to the promise of God, and of our Saviour Jesus Christ, to Whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

To Eustathius.

To Eustathius.

All you who study medicine have, one might say, humanity as your profession. I think that anyone who valued your science above all the serious pursuits of life would be making the right judgment and not missing the correct decision—if it is true that life, the most valued of all things, becomes something to be avoided and full of pain when it cannot be had with health, and your art supplies that health. But in your own case, the science is remarkably doubly effective. You extend for yourself the boundaries of its humanity, since you do not limit the benefit of your art to people's bodies, but also care for the healing of troubles of the soul. I say this not only based on common reports, but because I have learned it from experience, as in many other matters, so especially now in this indescribable malice of our enemies, which you skillfully dispersed when it swept like some evil flood over our life, dispelling this violent inflammation of our heart through your application of soothing words. I thought it right, indeed, in view of the continuous and varied attacks of our enemies against us, to keep silent and to receive their assault quietly, rather than to speak against men armed with falsehood—that most harmful weapon, which sometimes drives its point even through truth. But you did well in urging me not to betray the truth, but to refute the slanderers, lest by falsehood's success against truth, many might be harmed.

All you who study medicine have, one may say, humanity for your profession: and I think that one who preferred your science to all the serious pursuits of life would form the proper judgment, and not miss the right decision, if it be true that life, the most valued of all things, is a thing to be shunned, and full of pain, if it may not be had with health, and health your art supplies. But in your own case the science is in a notable degree of double efficacy; you enlarge for yourself the bounds of its humanity, since you do not limit the benefit of your art to men's bodies, but take thought also for the cure of troubles of the mind. I say this, not only following the common reports, but because I have learned it from experience, as in many other matters, so especially at this time in this indescribable malice of our enemies, which you skilfully dispersed when it swept like some evil flood over our life, dispelling this violent inflammation of our heart by your fomentation of soothing words. I thought it right, indeed, in view of the continuous and varied effort of our enemies against us, to keep silence, and to receive their attack quietly, rather than to speak against men armed with falsehood, that most mischievous weapon, which sometimes drives its point even through truth. But you did well in urging me not to betray the truth, but to refute the slanderers, lest, by a success of falsehood against truth, many might be injured.

I may say that those who conceived this baseless hatred for us seemed to be acting very much on the principle of Aesop's fable. For just as he makes his wolf bring some charges against the lamb (feeling ashamed, I suppose, of seeming to destroy without just cause one who had done him no harm), and then, when the lamb easily swept away all the slanderous charges brought against him, makes the wolf by no means slacken his attack, but win the day with his teeth when he is defeated by justice—so those who were as eager for hatred against us as if it were something good (feeling perhaps some shame of seeming to hate without cause), make up charges and complaints against us, while they do not stick consistently to any of the things they say, but claim now that one thing, after a little while that another, and then again that something else is the cause of their hostility to us. Their malice does not take a stand on any ground, but when they are dislodged from one charge they cling to another, and from that again they seize upon a third, and if all their charges are refuted they do not give up their hate. They charge us with preaching three Gods, and din into the ears of the multitude this slander, which they never stop maintaining persuasively. Then truth fights on our side, for we show both publicly to all people, and privately to those who speak with us, that we anathematize any man who says that there are three Gods, and hold him to be not even a Christian. Then, as soon as they hear this, they find Sabellius a handy weapon against us, and the plague that he spread is the subject of continual attacks upon us. Once more, we oppose to this assault our usual armor of truth, and show that we abhor this form of heresy just as much as Judaism. What then? Are they weary after such efforts, and content to rest? Not at all. Now they charge us with innovation, and frame their complaint against us in this way: They claim that while we confess three persons we say that there is one goodness, and one power, and one Godhead. And in this assertion they do not go beyond the truth, for we do say so. But the ground of their complaint is that their custom does not admit this, and Scripture does not support it. What then is our reply? We do not think that it is right to make their prevailing custom the law and rule of sound doctrine. For if custom is to serve as proof of soundness, we too, surely, may advance our prevailing custom; and if they reject this, we are surely not bound to follow theirs. Let the inspired Scripture, then, be our umpire, and the vote of truth will surely be given to those whose teachings are found to agree with the divine words.

I may say that those who conceived this causeless hatred for us seemed to be acting very much on the principle of Æsop's fable. For just as he makes his wolf bring some charges against the lamb (feeling ashamed, I suppose, of seeming to destroy, without just pretext, one who had done him no hurt), and then, when the lamb easily swept away all the slanderous charges brought against him, makes the wolf by no means slacken his attack, but carry the day with his teeth when he is vanquished by justice; so those who were as keen for hatred against us as if it were something good (feeling perhaps some shame of seeming to hate without cause), make up charges and complaints against us, while they do not abide consistently by any of the things they say, but allege, now that one thing, after a little while that another, and then again that something else is the cause of their hostility to us. Their malice does not take a stand on any ground, but when they are dislodged from one charge they cling to another, and from that again they seize upon a third, and if all their charges are refuted they do not give up their hate. They charge us with preaching three Gods, and din into the ears of the multitude this slander, which they never rest from maintaining persuasively. Then truth fights on our side, for we show both publicly to all men, and privately to those who converse with us, that we anathematize any man who says that there are three Gods, and hold him to be not even a Christian. Then, as soon as they hear this, they find Sabellius a handy weapon against us, and the plague that he spread is the subject of continual attacks upon us. Once more, we oppose to this assault our wonted armour of truth, and show that we abhor this form of heresy just as much as Judaism. What then? Are they weary after such efforts, and content to rest? Not at all. Now they charge us with innovation, and frame their complaint against us in this way:– They allege that while we confess three Persons we say that there is one goodness, and one power, and one Godhead. And in this assertion they do not go beyond the truth; for we do say so. But the ground of their complaint is that their custom does not admit this, and Scripture does not support it. What then is our reply? We do not think that it is right to make their prevailing custom the law and rule of sound doctrine. For if custom is to avail for proof of soundness, we too, surely, may advance our prevailing custom; and if they reject this, we are surely not bound to follow theirs. Let the inspired Scripture, then, be our umpire, and the vote of truth will surely be given to those whose dogmas are found to agree with the Divine words.

Well, what is their charge? There are two accusations brought forward together against us. First, that we divide the Persons. Second, that we do not use any of the names that belong to God in the plural number, but (as I said already) speak of the goodness as one, and of the power, and of the Godhead, and all such attributes in the singular. Regarding the dividing of the Persons, those who hold the doctrine of the diversity of substances in the Divine nature cannot reasonably object to this. For it is not to be supposed that those who say there are three substances do not also say there are three Persons. So only this point is called into question: that we use those attributes which are ascribed to the Divine nature in the singular.

Well, what is their charge? There are two brought forward together in the accusation against us; one, that we divide the Persons; the other, that we do not employ any of the names which belong to God in the plural number, but (as I said already) speak of the goodness as one, and of the power, and the Godhead, and all such attributes in the singular. With regard to the dividing of the Persons, those cannot well object who hold the doctrine of the diversity of substances in the Divine nature. For it is not to be supposed that those who say that there are three substances do not also say that there are three Persons. So this point only is called in question: that those attributes which are ascribed to the Divine nature we employ in the singular.

Our response to this is ready and clear. Anyone who condemns those who say that the Godhead is one must necessarily support either those who say there are more than one, or those who say there is none. But the inspired teaching does not allow us to say there are more than one, since whenever it uses the term, it mentions the Godhead in the singular, as in "In Him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead" (Colossians 2:9), and elsewhere "The invisible things of Him from the foundation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead" (Romans 1:20). If, then, extending the number of the Godhead to a multitude belongs only to those who suffer from the plague of polytheistic error, and on the other hand utterly denying the Godhead would be the doctrine of atheists, what kind of doctrine is it that accuses us for saying the Godhead is one? But they reveal more clearly the aim of their argument. Regarding the Father, they admit the fact that He is God, and that the Son likewise is honored with the attribute of Godhead; but the Spirit, who is reckoned with the Father and the Son, they cannot include in their conception of Godhead. Instead they hold that the power of the Godhead, issuing from the Father to the Son and halting there, separates the nature of the Spirit from the divine glory. And so, as far as we may in a short space, we have to answer this opinion also.

But our argument in reply to this is ready and clear. For any one who condemns those who say that the Godhead is one, must necessarily support either those who say that there are more than one, or those who say that there is none. But the inspired teaching does not allow us to say that there are more than one, since, whenever it uses the term, it makes mention of the Godhead in the singular; as — In Him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead Colossians 2:9; and, elsewhere — The invisible things of Him from the foundation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead Romans 1:20. If, then, to extend the number of the Godhead to a multitude belongs to those only who suffer from the plague of polytheistic error, and on the other hand utterly to deny the Godhead would be the doctrine of atheists, what doctrine is that which accuses us for saying that the Godhead is one? But they reveal more clearly the aim of their argument. As regards the Father, they admit the fact that He is God, and that the Son likewise is honoured with the attribute of Godhead; but the Spirit, Who is reckoned with the Father and the Son, they cannot include in their conception of Godhead, but hold that the power of the Godhead, issuing from the Father to the Son, and there halting, separates the nature of the Spirit from the Divine glory. And so, as far as we may in a short space, we have to answer this opinion also.

What, then, is our teaching? When the Lord delivered the saving Faith to those who become disciples of the word, he joins the Holy Spirit with the Father and the Son. We affirm that what has once been joined together remains continually united—it is not joined in one thing and separated in others. The power of the Spirit is included with the Father and the Son in the life-giving power by which our nature is transferred from corruptible life to immortality, and in many other cases as well: in the conception of Good, Holy, Eternal, Wise, Righteous, Chief, Mighty, and in fact everywhere. The Spirit has an inseparable association with them in all the attributes ascribed in a sense of special excellence. Therefore, we consider it right to think that what is joined to the Father and the Son in such sublime and exalted conceptions is not separated from them in any respect. We do not know of any differences by way of superiority and inferiority in attributes that express our conceptions of the Divine nature, so that we should suppose it an act of piety to allow the Spirit community in the inferior attributes while judging Him unworthy of the more exalted ones. All the Divine attributes, whether named or conceived, are of equal rank with one another, since they are not distinguishable with respect to what they signify about their subject. The name Good does not lead our minds to one subject while Wise, Mighty, or Righteous leads to another; rather, the thing to which all the attributes point is one. If you speak of God, you signify the same one Whom you understood by the other attributes. If, then, all the attributes ascribed to the Divine nature are of equal force in designating their subject, leading our minds to the same subject in various aspects, what reason is there for someone to allow the Spirit community with the Father and the Son in the other attributes but exclude Him from the Godhead alone? It is absolutely necessary either to allow Him community in this also, or not to admit His community in the others. If He is worthy in the case of those attributes, He is surely not less worthy in this. But if He is less, as they claim, so that He is excluded from community with the Father and the Son in the attribute of Godhead, then neither is He worthy to share in any other attribute that belongs to God. For when the attributes are rightly understood and mutually compared by the notion we contemplate in each case, they will be found to imply nothing less than the name of God. Proof of this is that many even of the inferior beings are called by this very name. Furthermore, the Divine Scripture is not sparing in its use of this name even for incongruous things, as when it names idols with the title God. It says, "Let the gods that have not made the heavens and the earth perish, and be cast down beneath the earth," and "all the gods of the heathen are devils." The witch in her incantations, when she brings up for Saul the spirits he sought, says that she saw gods. Again, Balaam, being an augur and seer, engaging in divination and having obtained for himself the instruction of devils and magical augury, is said in Scripture to receive counsel from God. One could show by collecting many similar instances from Divine Scripture that this attribute has no supremacy over the other attributes proper to God, since, as we said, we find it predicated, in an equivocal sense, even of incongruous things. But nowhere are we taught in Scripture that the names Holy, Incorruptible, Righteous, or Good are made common to unworthy things. If, then, they do not deny that the Holy Spirit has community with the Father and the Son in those attributes which, in their sense of special excellence, are piously predicated only of the Divine nature, what reason is there to pretend that He is excluded from community in this alone—the one attribute in which, as we showed, even devils and idols share by equivocal use?

What, then, is our doctrine? The Lord, in delivering the saving Faith to those who become disciples of the word, joins with the Father and the Son the Holy Spirit also; and we affirm that the union of that which has once been joined is continual; for it is not joined in one thing, and separated in others. But the power of the Spirit, being included with the Father and the Son in the life-giving power, by which our nature is transferred from the corruptible life to immortality, and in many other cases also, as in the conception of Good, and Holy, and Eternal, Wise, Righteous, Chief, Mighty, and in fact everywhere, has an inseparable association with them in all the attributes ascribed in a sense of special excellence. And so we consider that it is right to think that that which is joined to the Father and the Son in such sublime and exalted conceptions is not separated from them in any. For we do not know of any differences by way of superiority and inferiority in attributes which express our conceptions of the Divine nature, so that we should suppose it an act of piety (while allowing to the Spirit community in the inferior attributes) to judge Him unworthy of those more exalted. For all the Divine attributes, whether named or conceived, are of like rank one with another, in that they are not distinguishable in respect of the signification of their subject. For the appellation of the Good does not lead our minds to one subject, and that of the Wise, or the Mighty, or the Righteous to another, but the thing to which all the attributes point is one; and, if you speak of God, you signify the same Whom you understood by the other attributes. If then all the attributes ascribed to the Divine nature are of equal force as regards their designation of the subject, leading our minds to the same subject in various aspects, what reason is there that one, while allowing to the Spirit community with the Father and the Son in the other attributes, should exclude Him from the Godhead alone? It is absolutely necessary either to allow to Him community in this also, or not to admit His community in the others. For if He is worthy in the case of those attributes, He is surely not less worthy in this. But if He is less, according to their phrase, so that He is excluded from community with the Father and the Son in the attribute of Godhead, neither is He worthy to share in any other of the attributes which belong to God. For the attributes, when rightly understood and mutually compared by that notion which we contemplate in each case, will be found to imply nothing less than the appellation of God. And a proof of this is that many even of the inferior existences are called by this very name. Further, the Divine Scripture is not sparing in this use of the name even in the case of things incongruous, as when it names idols by the appellation of God. For it says, Let the gods that have not made the heavens and the earth perish, and be cast down beneath the earth; and, all the gods of the heathen are devils; and the witch in her incantations, when she brings up for Saul the spirits that he sought for, says that she saw gods 1 Samuel 28:13. And again Balaam, being an augur and a seer, and engaging in divination, and having obtained for himself the instruction of devils and magical augury, is said in Scripture to receive counsel from God. Numbers xxii One may show by collecting many instances of the same kind from the Divine Scripture, that this attribute has no supremacy over the other attributes which are proper to God, seeing that, as has been said, we find it predicated, in an equivocal sense, even of things incongruous; but we are nowhere taught in Scripture that the names of the Holy, the Incorruptible, the Righteous, the Good, are made common to things unworthy. If, then, they do not deny that the Holy Spirit has community with the Father and the Son in those attributes which, in their sense of special excellence, are piously predicated only of the Divine nature, what reason is there to pretend that He is excluded from community in this only, wherein it was shown that, by an equivocal use, even devils and idols share?

They claim that this title indicates nature, and that since the Spirit's nature is not common to the Father and the Son, he does not share in this attribute either. Let them demonstrate, then, how they distinguish this difference of nature. If it were possible to contemplate the Divine nature in its absolute essence, and if we could determine by direct observation what properly belongs to it and what does not, we would certainly need no other arguments or evidence to understand the question. But since it is beyond the understanding of those who inquire, and we must reason from particular evidence about things that escape our knowledge, it is absolutely necessary for us to be guided to the investigation of the Divine nature by its operations. If, then, we observe that the operations performed by the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit differ from one another, we will conclude from the different character of the operations that the natures (physis) which operate are also different. For it cannot be that things differing in their very nature (physis) should agree in the form of their operation: fire does not cool, nor does ice warm, but their operations are distinguished along with the difference between their natures. If, on the other hand, we understand that the operation of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit is one, differing or varying in nothing, the oneness of their nature must necessarily be inferred from the identity of their operation. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit alike give sanctification, life, light, comfort, and all similar graces. And let no one attribute the power of sanctification in a special sense to the Spirit when he hears the Savior in the Gospel saying to the Father concerning his disciples, "Father, sanctify them in your name." So too all the other gifts are worked in those who are worthy alike by the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit: every grace and power, guidance, life, comfort, the change to immortality, the passage to liberty, and every other good thing that exists which descends to us.

But they say that this appellation is indicative of nature, and that, as the nature of the Spirit is not common to the Father and the Son, for this reason neither does he partake in the community of this attribute. Let them show, then, whereby they discern this diversity of nature. For if it were possible that the Divine nature should be contemplated in its absolute essence, and that we should find by appearances what is and what is not proper to it, we should surely have no need of other arguments or evidence for the comprehension of the question. But since it is exalted above the understanding of the questioners, and we have to argue from some particular evidence about those things which evade our knowledge, it is absolutely necessary for us to be guided to the investigation of the Divine nature by its operations. If, then, we see that the operations which are wrought by the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit differ one from the other, we shall conjecture from the different character of the operations that the natures which operate are also different. For it cannot be that things which differ in their very nature should agree in the form of their operation: fire does not chill, nor ice give warmth, but their operations are distinguished together with the difference between their natures. If, on the other hand, we understand that the operation of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit is one, differing or varying in nothing, the oneness of their nature must needs be inferred from the identity of their operation. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit alike give sanctification, and life, and light, and comfort, and all similar graces. And let no one attribute the power of sanctification in a special sense to the Spirit, when he hears the Saviour in the Gospel saying to the Father concerning His disciples, Father, sanctify them in Your name. So too all the other gifts are wrought in those who are worthy alike by the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit: every grace and power, guidance, life, comfort, the change to immortality, the passage to liberty, and every other boon that exists, which descends to us.

But the order of things that is above us, both in the realm of intelligence and in that of the senses (if we may form conjectures about those things above us from what we know), is itself established within the operation and power of the Holy Spirit, with every person receiving the benefit according to his own merit and need. For although the arrangement and ordering of things above our nature is obscure to our senses, one may more reasonably infer from the things we know that the power of the Spirit works in them too, rather than that it is excluded from the order existing in the things above us. For anyone who asserts the latter view advances his blasphemy in a naked and unseemly form, without being able to support his absurd opinion with any argument. But anyone who agrees that those things above us are also ordered by the power of the Spirit along with the Father and the Son makes his assertion on this point with the support of clear evidence from his own life. For since human nature is composed of body and soul, and the angelic nature has as its portion life without a body, if the Holy Spirit worked only in the case of bodies and the soul were not capable of receiving the grace that comes from him, one might perhaps infer from this—if the intellectual and incorporeal nature within us were above the power of the Spirit—that the angelic life too had no need of his grace. But if the gift of the Holy Spirit is principally a grace of the soul, and the constitution of the soul is linked by its intellectuality and invisibility to the angelic life, what person who knows how to see a logical consequence would not agree that every intellectual nature is governed by the ordering of the Holy Spirit? For since it is said that the angels always behold the face of my Father who is in heaven, and it is not possible to behold the prosopon of the Father except by fixing one's sight upon it through his image; and the image of the prosopon of the Father is the Only-begotten, and no one can draw near to him whose mind has not been illumined by the Holy Spirit—what else is shown from this but that the Holy Spirit is not separated from any operation that is accomplished by the Father and the Son? Thus the identity of operation in Father, Son, and Holy Spirit clearly shows the indistinguishable character of their ousia. So that even if the name of Godhead does indicate nature, the community of ousia shows that this name is properly applied also to the Holy Spirit. But I do not know how these fabricators of all sorts of arguments claim that the name of Godhead indicates nature, as though they had not heard from Scripture that it is a matter of appointment, and nature does not arise in that way. For Moses was appointed as a god of the Egyptians, since he who gave him the oracles spoke thus to him: I have given you as a god to Pharaoh. Thus the force of the name indicates some power, either of oversight or of operation. But the divine nature itself, as it actually is, remains unexpressed by all the names that are conceived for it, as our teaching declares. For in learning that he is beneficent, and a judge, good, and just, and all else of the same kind, we learn about the diversity of his operations, but we are no more able to learn through our knowledge of his operations the physis of him who works. For when one gives a definition of any one of these attributes and of the physis to which the names are applied, he will not give the same definition of both; and of things whose definition is different, the physis also is distinct. Indeed, the ousia is one thing that no definition has been found to express, and the significance of the names used concerning it varies, as the names are given from some operation or attribute. Now the fact that there is no distinction in the operations we learn from the community of the attributes, but we find no clear proof of a difference with respect to physis, since the identity of operations indicates rather, as we said, community of physis. If, then, Godhead is a name derived from operation, since we say that the operation of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit is one, so we say that the Godhead is one; or if, according to the view of the majority, Godhead indicates physis, since we cannot find any diversity in their physis, we not unreasonably define the Holy Trinity to be of one Godhead.

But the order of things which is above us, alike in the region of intelligence and in that of sense (if by what we know we may form conjectures about those things also which are above us), is itself established within the operation and power of the Holy Spirit, every man receiving the benefit according to his own desert and need. For although the arrangement and ordering of things above our nature is obscure to our sense, yet one may more reasonably infer, by the things which we know, that in them too the power of the Spirit works, than that it is banished from the order existing in the things above us. For he who asserts the latter view advances his blasphemy in a naked and unseemly shape, without being able to support his absurd opinion by any argument. But he who agrees that those things which are above us are also ordered by the power of the Spirit with the Father and the Son, makes his assertion on this point with the support of clear evidence from his own life. For as the nature of man is compounded of body and soul, and the angelic nature has for its portion life without a body, if the Holy Spirit worked only in the case of bodies, and the soul were not capable of receiving the grace that comes from Him, one might perhaps infer from this, if the intellectual and incorporeal nature which is in us were above the power of the Spirit, that the angelic life too was in no need of His grace. But if the gift of the Holy Spirit is principally a grace of the soul, and the constitution of the soul is linked by its intellectuality and invisibility to the angelic life, what person who knows how to see a consequence would not agree, that every intellectual nature is governed by the ordering of the Holy Spirit? For since it is said the angels do always behold the Face of My Father which is in heaven Matthew 18:10, and it is not possible to behold the person of the Father otherwise than by fixing the sight upon it through His image; and the image of the person of the Father is the Only-begotten, and to Him again no man can draw near whose mind has not been illumined by the Holy Spirit, what else is shown from this but that the Holy Spirit is not separated from any operation which is wrought by the Father and the Son? Thus the identity of operation in Father, Son, and Holy Spirit shows plainly the undistinguishable character of their substance. So that even if the name of Godhead does indicate nature, the community of substance shows that this appellation is properly applied also to the Holy Spirit. But I know not how these makers-up of all sorts of arguments bring the appellation of Godhead to be an indication of nature, as though they had not heard from the Scripture that it is a matter of appointment, in which way nature does not arise. For Moses was appointed as a god of the Egyptians, since He Who gave him the oracles, etc., spoke thus to him, I have given you as a god to Pharaoh Exodus 7:1. Thus the force of the appellation is the indication of some power, either of oversight or of operation. But the Divine nature itself, as it is, remains unexpressed by all the names that are conceived for it, as our doctrine declares. For in learning that He is beneficent, and a judge, good, and just, and all else of the same kind, we learn diversities of His operations, but we are none the more able to learn by our knowledge of His operations the nature of Him Who works. For when one gives a definition of any one of these attributes, and of the nature to which the names are applied, he will not give the same definition of both: and of things of which the definition is different, the nature also is distinct. Indeed the substance is one thing which no definition has been found to express, and the significance of the names employed concerning it varies, as the names are given from some operation or accident. Now the fact that there is no distinction in the operations we learn from the community of the attributes, but of the difference in respect of nature we find no clear proof, the identity of operations indicating rather, as we said, community of nature. If, then, Godhead is a name derived from operation, as we say that the operation of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit is one, so we say that the Godhead is one: or if, according to the view of the majority, Godhead is indicative of nature, since we cannot find any diversity in their nature, we not unreasonably define the Holy Trinity to be of one Godhead.

But if anyone says this title indicates dignity, I cannot understand what reasoning leads them to interpret the word this way. However, since many people say such things, and to prevent opponents from finding grounds to attack the truth, we will go out of our way to address this view for those who hold it. Even if the name does signify dignity, the title will still properly belong to the Holy Spirit. For the attribute of kingship represents all dignity, and our God, Scripture says, is King from everlasting. The Son, having all things that belong to the Father, is Himself proclaimed a King by Holy Scripture. Now Scripture says that the Holy Spirit is the anointing of the Only-Begotten, interpreting the dignity of the Spirit by transferring terms commonly used in this world. In ancient times, those who were raised to kingship received the sign of this dignity through anointing applied to them. When this happened, they were transformed from a private and humble status to the superiority of rule, and the one deemed worthy of this grace received a new name after his anointing, being called the Anointed of the Lord instead of an ordinary man. For this reason, so that the dignity of the Holy Spirit might be shown more clearly to people, Scripture called Him the sign of the Kingdom and Anointing. This teaches us that the Holy Spirit shares in the glory and kingdom of the Only-begotten Son of God. Just as in Israel no one could enter the kingdom without first being anointed, so Scripture, by transferring terms we use among ourselves, indicates equality of power. This shows that not even the kingdom of the Son is received without the dignity of the Holy Spirit. For this reason He is properly called Christ, since this name proves His inseparable and indivisible union with the Holy Spirit. If, then, the Only-begotten God is the Anointed, and the Holy Spirit is His Anointing, and the title of Anointed points to royal authority, and the anointing is the sign of His Kingship, then the Holy Spirit also shares in His dignity. Therefore, if they say that the attribute of Godhead signifies dignity, and the Holy Spirit is shown to share in this quality, it follows that He who partakes in the dignity will also partake in the name that represents it.

But if any one were to call this appellation indicative of dignity, I cannot tell by what reasoning he drags the word to this significance. Since however one may hear many saying things of this kind, in order that the zeal of its opponents may not find a ground for attacking the truth, we go out of our way with those who take this view, to consider such an opinion, and say that, even if the name does denote dignity, in this case too the appellation will properly befit the Holy Spirit. For the attribute of kingship denotes all dignity; and our God, it says, is King from everlasting. But the Son, having all things which are the Father's, is Himself proclaimed a King by Holy Scripture. Now the Divine Scripture says that the Holy Spirit is the unction of the Only-Begotten Acts 10:38, interpreting the dignity of the Spirit by a transference of the terms commonly used in this world. For as, in ancient days, in those who were advanced to kingship, the token of this dignity was the unction which was applied to them, and when this took place there was thenceforth a change from private and humble estate to the superiority of rule, and he who was deemed worthy of this grace received after his anointing another name, being called, instead of an ordinary man, the Anointed of the Lord: for this reason, that the dignity of the Holy Spirit might be more clearly shown to men, He was called by the Scripture the sign of the Kingdom, and Unction, whereby we are taught that the Holy Spirit shares in the glory and kingdom of the Only-begotten Son of God. For as in Israel it was not permitted to enter upon the kingdom without the unction being previously given, so the word, by a transference of the terms in use among ourselves, indicates the equality of power, showing that not even the kingdom of the Son is received without the dignity of the Holy Spirit. And for this reason He is properly called Christ, since this name gives the proof of His inseparable and indivisible conjunction with the Holy Spirit. If, then, the Only-begotten God is the Anointed, and the Holy Spirit is His Unction, and the appellation of Anointed points to the Kingly authority, and the anointing is the token of His Kingship, then the Holy Spirit shares also in His dignity. If, therefore, they say that the attribute of Godhead is significative of dignity, and the Holy Spirit is shown to share in this last quality, it follows that He Who partakes in the dignity will also partake in the name which represents it.

It might seem beneath our dignity to respond at all to foolish statements. Solomon's wise counsel seems to point us in that direction—not to answer a fool according to his folly. But there is a danger that our silence could allow error to triumph over truth, and this festering wound of heresy might spread and destroy the sound teaching of the faith. Therefore, it has seemed necessary to me to respond—not by matching the folly of these men who raise such objections to our religion, but to correct their distorted ideas. For I believe that passage from Proverbs is not calling for silence, but for correcting those who are acting foolishly. Our answers should not sink to the level of their foolish thinking, but rather should overturn these thoughtless and misguided views about doctrine.

It may indeed be undignified to give any answer at all to the statements that are foolish; we seem to be pointed that way by Solomon's wise advice, not to answer a fool according to his folly. But there is a danger lest through our silence error may prevail over the truth, and so the rotting sore of this heresy may invade it, and make havoc of the sound word of the faith. It has appeared to me, therefore, to be imperative to answer, not indeed according to the folly of these men who offer objections of such a description to our Religion, but for the correction of their depraved ideas. For that advice quoted above from the Proverbs gives, I think, the watchword not for silence, but for the correction of those who are displaying some act of folly; our answers, that is, are not to run on the level of their foolish conceptions, but rather to overturn those unthinking and deluded views as to doctrine.

What then is the charge they bring against us? They accuse us of blasphemy for holding exalted beliefs about the Holy Spirit. Everything that we confess about the Spirit, following the teachings of the Fathers, they twist to their own meaning and use as a weapon against us to denounce us for blasphemy. For instance, we confess that the Holy Spirit is of the same rank as the Father and the Son, so that there is no difference between them in anything—whether thought or spoken—that reverence can attribute to a divine nature. We confess that, except for being understood as having distinctive characteristics in regard to his hypostasis, the Holy Spirit is indeed from God and from Christ, according to Scripture. But while he is not to be confused with the Father in being unbegotten, nor with the Son in being the Only-begotten, and while he is to be regarded separately in certain distinctive properties, he has in all other respects, as I have just said, an exact identity with them. But our opponents claim that he is a stranger to any vital communion with the Father and the Son; that because of an essential difference he is inferior to and less than they in every respect—in power, in glory, in dignity, in short in everything that in word or thought we ascribe to deity; that, as a result, he has no share in their glory and no claim to equal honor with them; and that, as for power, he possesses only as much as is sufficient for the limited activities assigned to him; that he is completely disconnected from the creative power.

What then is the charge they bring against us? They accuse us of profanity for entertaining lofty conceptions about the Holy Spirit. All that we, in following the teachings of the Fathers, confess as to the Spirit, they take in a sense of their own, and make it a handle against us, to denounce us for profanity. We, for instance, confess that the Holy Spirit is of the same rank as the Father and the Son, so that there is no difference between them in anything, to be thought or named, that devotion can ascribe to a Divine nature. We confess that, save His being contemplated as with peculiar attributes in regard of Person, the Holy Spirit is indeed from God, and of the Christ, according to Scripture, but that, while not to be confounded with the Father in being never originated, nor with the Son in being the Only-begotten, and while to be regarded separately in certain distinctive properties, He has in all else, as I have just said, an exact identity with them. But our opponents aver that He is a stranger to any vital communion with the Father and the Son; that by reason of an essential variation He is inferior to, and less than they in every point; in power, in glory, in dignity, in fine in everything that in word or thought we ascribe to Deity; that, in consequence, in their glory He has no share, to equal honour with them He has no claim; and that, as for power, He possesses only so much of it as is sufficient for the partial activities assigned to Him; that with the creative force He is quite disconnected.

Such is their conception of Him, and the logical consequence is that the Spirit has in Himself none of those marks that our devotion, in word or thought, attributes to a Divine nature. What then will be our way of arguing? We will answer nothing new, nothing of our own invention, even though they challenge us to do so. We will fall back on the testimony in Holy Scripture about the Spirit, from which we learn that the Holy Spirit is Divine and is to be called so. Now, if they allow this and will not contradict the words of inspiration, then they, with all their eagerness to fight with us, must tell us why they are contending with us instead of with Scripture. We say nothing different from what Scripture says. But in a Divine nature as such, once we have believed in it, we can recognize no distinctions suggested either by Scripture's teaching or by our own common sense—distinctions, that is, that would divide that Divine and transcendent nature within itself by any degrees of intensity and remission, so as to be altered from itself by being more or less. Because we firmly believe that it is simple, uniform, and incomposite, because we see in it no complicity or composition of dissimilar elements, therefore it is that, once our minds have grasped the idea of Deity, we accept by the very implication of that name the perfection in it of every conceivable thing that befits the Deity. Deity, in fact, exhibits perfection in every line in which the good can be found. If it fails and falls short of perfection in any single point, in that point the conception of Deity will be impaired, so that it cannot in that respect be or be called Deity at all. For how could we apply that word to a thing that is imperfect and deficient and requiring an addition external to itself?

Such is the conception of Him that possesses them; and the logical consequence of it is that the Spirit has in Himself none of those marks which our devotion, in word or thought, ascribes to a Divine nature. What then, shall be our way of arguing? We shall answer nothing new, nothing of our own invention, though they challenge us to it; we shall fall back upon the testimony in Holy Scripture about the Spirit, whence we learn that the Holy Spirit is Divine, and is to be called so. Now, if they allow this, and will not contradict the words of inspiration, then they, with all their eagerness to fight with us, must tell us why they are for contending with us, instead of with Scripture. We say nothing different from that which Scripture says.– But in a Divine nature, as such, when once we have believed in it, we can recognize no distinctions suggested either by the Scripture teaching or by our own common sense; distinctions, that is, that would divide that Divine and transcendent nature within itself by any degrees of intensity and remission, so as to be altered from itself by being more or less. Because we firmly believe that it is simple, uniform, incomposite, because we see in it no complicity or composition of dissimilars, therefore it is that, when once our minds have grasped the idea of Deity, we accept by the implication of that very name the perfection in it of every conceivable thing that befits the Deity. Deity, in fact, exhibits perfection in every line in which the good can be found. If it fails and comes short of perfection in any single point, in that point the conception of Deity will be impaired, so that it cannot, therein, be or be called Deity at all; for how could we apply that word to a thing that is imperfect and deficient, and requiring an addition external to itself?

We can confirm our argument by material examples. Fire naturally gives off a sense of heat to those who touch it, in all its component parts. One part of it does not have heat that is more intense, another part less intense. As long as it is fire at all, it displays an unchanging oneness with itself in an absolutely complete sameness of activity. If any part of it gets cooled at all, that part can no longer be called fire. When its heat-giving activity changes into the reverse, its name also changes. The same holds for water, for air, for every element that makes up the universe. There is one and the same description of each element, admitting no ideas of excess or defect. Water, for instance, cannot be called more or less water. As long as it maintains an equal standard of wetness, the term water applies to it. But once it changes in the direction of the opposite quality, the name applied to it must also change. The yielding, buoyant, nimble nature of air is seen in every part of it, while what is dense, heavy, and downward gravitating sinks out of the very meaning of the term air. So Deity, as long as it possesses perfection throughout all the properties that devotion may attach to it, by virtue of this perfection in everything good does not betray its name. But if any one of those things that contribute to this idea of perfection is subtracted from it, the name of Deity is falsified in that particular case and no longer applies to the subject. It is equally impossible to apply the name of water to a dry substance, the name of fire to something whose quality is a state of coolness, the name of air to stiff and hard things, and to call that thing Divine which does not at once imply the idea of perfection—or rather the impossibility is even greater in this last case.

We can confirm our argument by material instances. Fire naturally imparts the sense of heat to those who touch it, with all its component parts; one part of it does not have the heat more intense, the other less intense; but as long as it is fire at all, it exhibits an invariable oneness with itself in an absolutely complete sameness of activity; if in any part it gets cooled at all, in that part it can no longer be called fire; for, with the change of its heat-giving activity into the reverse, its name also is changed. It is the same with water, with air, with every element that underlies the universe; there is one and the same description of the element, in each case, admitting of no ideas of excess or defect; water, for instance, cannot be called more or less water; as long as it maintains an equal standard of wetness, so long the term water will be realized by it; but when once it is changed in the direction of the opposite quality the name to be applied to it must be changed also. The yielding, buoyant, nimble nature of the air, too, is to be seen in every part of it; while what is dense, heavy, downward gravitating, sinks out of the connotation of the very term air. So Deity, as long as it possesses perfection throughout all the properties that devotion may attach to it, by virtue of this perfection in everything good does not belie its name; but if any one of those things that contribute to this idea of perfection is subtracted from it, the name of Deity is falsified in that particular, and does not apply to the subject any longer. It is equally impossible to apply to a dry substance the name of water, to that whose quality is a state of coolness the name of fire, to stiff and hard things the name of air, and to call that thing Divine which does not at once imply the idea of perfection; or rather the impossibility is greater in this last case.

If, then, the Holy Spirit is truly—and not merely in name—called Divine both by Scripture and by our Fathers, what basis remains for those who oppose the glory of the Spirit? He is Divine, and absolutely good, and omnipotent, and wise, and glorious, and eternal. He is everything of this kind that can be named to lift our thoughts to the greatness of His being. The fact that a single subject possesses all these qualities testifies that He does not possess them only partially, as if we could imagine that He was one thing in His very substance but became something else through the presence of these qualities. That condition belongs only to beings who have been given a composite nature, whereas the Holy Spirit is single and simple in every respect equally. Everyone agrees with this; no one denies it. If, then, there is only one simple and single definition of His being, the goodness He possesses is not something acquired. Rather, whatever else He may be, He is Himself Goodness, and Wisdom, and Power, and Sanctification, and Righteousness, and Everlastingness, and Imperishability, and every name that is lofty and elevated above other names. What, then, is the state of mind that leads these men—who do not fear the fearful sentence passed upon blasphemy against the Holy Spirit—to maintain that such a Being does not possess glory? For they clearly put forward that statement: that we ought not to believe that He should be glorified, though I do not know for what reason they judge it fitting not to confess the true nature of that which is essentially glorious.

If, then, the Holy Spirit is truly, and not in name only, called Divine both by Scripture and by our Fathers, what ground is left for those who oppose the glory of the Spirit? He is Divine, and absolutely good, and Omnipotent, and wise, and glorious, and eternal; He is everything of this kind that can be named to raise our thoughts to the grandeur of His being. The singleness of the subject of these properties testifies that He does not possess them in a measure only, as if we could imagine that He was one thing in His very substance, but became another by the presence of the aforesaid qualities. That condition is peculiar to those beings who have been given a composite nature; whereas the Holy Spirit is single and simple in every respect equally. This is allowed by all; the man who denies it does not exist. If, then, there is but one simple and single definition of His being, the good which He possesses is not an acquired good; but, whatever He may be besides, He is Himself Goodness, and Wisdom, and Power, and Sanctification, and Righteousness, and Everlastingness, and Imperishability, and every name that is lofty, and elevating above other names. What, then, is the state of mind that leads these men, who do not fear the fearful sentence passed upon the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, to maintain that such a Being does not possess glory? For they clearly put that statement forward; that we ought not to believe that He should be glorified: though I know not for what reason they judge it to be expedient not to confess the true nature of that which is essentially glorious.

For the plea will not help them in their defense that the Spirit is delivered by our Lord to His disciples third in order, and that therefore He is removed from our understanding of Deity. Where in each case the activity in working good shows no diminution or variation whatever, how unreasonable it is to suppose that numerical order is a sign of any diminution or essential variation! It is as if someone were to see a separate flame burning on three torches (and let us suppose that the third flame is caused by the first being transmitted to the middle, and then kindling the end torch), and were to insist that the heat in the first exceeded that of the others; that the one next to it showed a variation from it in the direction of being less; and that the third could not be called fire at all, though it burned and shone just like fire, and did everything that fire does. But if there is really no obstacle to the third torch being fire, though it has been kindled from a previous flame, what is the reasoning of these men, who impiously think that they can dismiss the dignity of the Holy Spirit because He is named by the Divine lips after the Father and the Son? Certainly, if there is in our conceptions of the ousia of the Spirit anything that falls short of the Divine ideal, they do well in testifying to His not possessing glory; but if the highness of His dignity is to be perceived in every point, why do they refuse to make the confession of His glory? It is as if anyone after describing someone as a man, were to consider it not safe to go on to say of him as well that he is reasoning, mortal, or anything else that can be predicated of a man, and so were to cancel what he had just allowed; for if he is not reasoning, he is not a man at all; but if the latter is granted, how can there be any hesitation about the conceptions already implied in man? So, with regard to the Spirit, if when one calls Him Divine one speaks the truth, neither when one defines Him to be worthy of honor, to be glorious, good, omnipotent, does one lie; for all such conceptions are at once admitted with the idea of Deity. So they must accept one of two alternatives: either not to call Him Divine at all, or to refrain from subtracting from His Deity any one of those conceptions which are attributable to Deity. We must then, most surely, comprehend along with each other these two thoughts: the Divine nature, and along with it a just idea, a devout intuition, of that Divine and transcendent nature.

For the plea will not avail them in their self-defense, that He is delivered by our Lord to His disciples third in order, and that therefore He is estranged from our ideal of Deity. Where in each case activity in working good shows no diminution or variation whatever, how unreasonable it is to suppose the numerical order to be a sign of any diminution or essential variation! It is as if a man were to see a separate flame burning on three torches (and we will suppose that the third flame is caused by that of the first being transmitted to the middle, and then kindling the end torch), and were to maintain that the heat in the first exceeded that of the others; that that next it showed a variation from it in the direction of the less; and that the third could not be called fire at all, though it burnt and shone just like fire, and did everything that fire does. But if there is really no hindrance to the third torch being fire, though it has been kindled from a previous flame, what is the philosophy of these men, who profanely think that they can slight the dignity of the Holy Spirit because He is named by the Divine lips after the Father and the Son? Certainly, if there is in our conceptions of the Substance of the Spirit anything that falls short of the Divine ideal, they do well in testifying to His not possessing glory; but if the highness of His dignity is to be perceived in every point, why do they grudge to make the confession of His glory? As if any one after describing some one as a man, were to consider it not safe to go on to say of him as well that he is reasoning, mortal, or anything else that can be predicated of a man, and so were to cancel what he had just allowed; for if he is not reasoning, he is not a man at all; but if the latter is granted, how can there be any hesitation about the conceptions already implied in man? So, with regard to the Spirit, if when one calls Him Divine one speaks the truth, neither when one defines Him to be worthy of honour, to be glorious, good, omnipotent, does one lie; for all such conceptions are at once admitted with the idea of Deity. So that they must accept one of two alternatives; either not to call Him Divine at all, or to refrain from subtracting from His Deity any one of those conceptions which are attributable to Deity. We must then, most surely, comprehend along with each other these two thoughts, viz. the Divine nature, and along with it a just idea, a devout intuition, of that Divine and transcendent nature.

Since it has been affirmed—and truly affirmed—that the Spirit is of the Divine Essence, and since in that one word "Divine" every idea of greatness, as we have said, is included, it follows that whoever grants that Divinity has implicitly granted all the rest: the glory, the omnipotence, everything that indicates superiority. It is indeed monstrous to refuse to confess this in the case of the Spirit—monstrous because of how inappropriate it would be to apply to Him the terms that stand opposite to the ones above. I mean, if one does not grant glory, one must grant the absence of glory; if one sets aside His power, one must accept its opposite. The same applies to honor, goodness, and any other superiority—if they are not accepted, their opposites must be conceded.

Since, then, it has been affirmed, and truly affirmed, that the Spirit is of the Divine Essence, and since in that one word Divine every idea of greatness, as we have said, is involved, it follows that he who grants that Divinity has potentially granted all the rest — the gloriousness, the omnipotence, everything indicative of superiority. It is indeed a monstrous thing to refuse to confess this in the case of the Spirit; monstrous, because of the incongruity, as applied to Him, of the terms which in the list of opposites correspond to the above terms. I mean, if one does not grant gloriousness, one must grant the absence of gloriousness; if one sets aside His power, one must acquiesce in its opposite. So also with regard to honour, and goodness, and any other superiority, if they are not accepted, their opposites must be conceded.

But if everyone must shrink from that, as it goes even beyond the most revolting blasphemy, then a devout mind must accept the nobler names and conceptions of the Holy Spirit, and must declare concerning Him everything we have already named: that He has honor, power, glory, goodness, and everything else that inspires devotion. We must also acknowledge that these realities do not attach to Him in any imperfect way or with any limit to the quality of their brilliance, but rather they correspond with their names to infinity. He is not to be regarded as possessing dignity up to a certain point and then becoming different; instead, He is always such. Whether you begin to count back before the ages, or whether you fix your gaze on the Hereafter, you will find no falling off whatever in dignity, or glory, or omnipotence—nothing that would make Him capable of increase by addition or of diminution by subtraction. Being wholly and entirely perfect, He admits diminution in nothing. In whatever respect, on such a supposition as theirs, He is lessened, in that respect He will be exposed to the invasion of ideas tending to dishonor Him. For that which is not absolutely perfect must be suspected on some point of partaking of the opposite character. But if even entertaining the thought of this is a sign of extreme derangement of mind, it is right to confess our belief that His perfection in all that is good is altogether unlimited, uncircumscribed, and in no particular diminished.

But if all must shrink from that, as going even beyond the most revolting blasphemy, then a devout mind must accept the nobler names and conceptions of the Holy Spirit, and must pronounce concerning Him all that we have already named, that He has honour, power, glory, goodness, and everything else that inspires devotion. It must own, too, that these realities do not attach to Him in imperfection or with any limit to the quality of their brilliance, but that they correspond with their names to infinity. He is not to be regarded as possessing dignity up to a certain point, and then becoming different; but He is always such. If you begin to count behind the ages, or if you fix your gaze on the Hereafter, you will find no falling off whatever in dignity, or glory, or omnipotence, such as to constitute Him capable of increase by addition, or of diminution by subtraction. Being wholly and entirely perfect, He admits diminution in nothing. Whereinsoever, on such a supposition as theirs, He is lessened, therein He will be exposed to the inroad of ideas tending to dishonour Him. For that which is not absolutely perfect must be suspected on some one point of partaking of the opposite character. But if to entertain even the thought of this is a sign of extreme derangement of mind, it is well to confess our belief that His perfection in all that is good is altogether unlimited, uncircumscribed, in no particular diminished.

If this is what the doctrine teaches when fully developed, we should apply the same inquiry to the Son and the Father as well. Don't you acknowledge a perfection of glory in one just as in the other? I think everyone who considers this will agree. If the honor of the Father is perfect, and the honor of the Son is perfect, and they have also confessed the perfection of honor for the Holy Spirit, why do these new teachers insist that we must not allow Him equal honor with the Father and the Son? As for us, we follow this reasoning and find ourselves unable to think or say that what needs no addition for its perfection is somehow less dignified when compared to something else. When we have something in which, because of its flawless perfection, reason can find no possibility of increase, I don't see how it can find any possibility of decrease either. But these people, in denying equality of honor, are really asserting a comparative lack of it. And when they follow this same line of thinking further, through diminishment arising from comparison they undermine all the concepts that devotion has formed about the Holy Spirit. They refuse to acknowledge His perfection in goodness, omnipotence, or any such attribute. But if they shrink from such open blasphemy and admit His perfection in every good attribute, then these clever people must explain to us how one perfect thing can be more perfect or less perfect than another perfect thing. As long as the definition of perfection applies to something, that thing cannot admit of greater or lesser degrees of perfection.

If such is the doctrine concerning Him when followed out, let the same inquiry be made concerning the Son and the Father as well. Do you not confess a perfection of glory in the case of the one as in the case of the other? I think that all who reflect will allow it. If, then, the honour of the Father is perfect, and the honour of the Son is perfect, and they have confessed as well the perfection of honour for the Holy Spirit, wherefore do these new theorists dictate to us that we are not to allow in His case an equality of honour with the Father and the Son? As for ourselves, we follow out the above considerations and find ourselves unable to think, as well as to say, that that which requires no addition for its perfection is, as compared with something else, less dignified; for when we have something wherein, owing to its faultless perfection, reason can discover no possibility of increase, I do not see either wherein it can discover any possibility of diminution. But these men, in denying the equality of honour, really lay down the comparative absence of it; and so also when they follow out further this same line of thought, by a diminution arising from comparison they divert all the conceptions that devotion has formed of the Holy Spirit; they do not own His perfection either in goodness, or omnipotence, or in any such attribute. But if they shrink from such open profanity and allow His perfection in every attribute of good, then these clever people must tell us how one perfect thing can be more perfect or less perfect than another perfect thing; for so long as the definition of perfection applies to it, that thing can not admit of a greater and a less in the matter of perfection.

If they agree that the Holy Spirit is absolutely perfect, and if they have also admitted that true reverence requires perfection in every good thing for both the Father and the Son, what reasons can justify them in taking away the Father once they have granted Him? For to remove equality of dignity with the Father is clear proof that they do not believe the Spirit shares in the Father's perfection. And regarding this very idea of honor in the case of the Divine Being, from which they would exclude the Spirit, what do they mean by it? Do they mean the honor that people give to other people, when through words and gestures they show respect to them, expressing their own deference through giving precedence and all such practices, which in the foolish fashion of the day are maintained in the name of honor? But all these things depend on the goodwill of those who perform them. And if we imagine a situation in which they choose not to perform them, then no one among mankind has by nature any advantage that would make them necessarily more honored than anyone else, for all are marked equally with the same natural characteristics. The truth of this is clear and admits no doubt. We see, for instance, that the person who today is considered an object of honor by the crowd because of the office he holds becomes tomorrow one of those who give honor to others, once the office has been transferred to someone else. Do they then think of honor like this in the case of the Divine Being, so that as long as we choose to give it, that Divine honor remains, but when we stop doing so it also stops at the command of our will? Absurd idea, and blasphemous as well! The Deity, being independent of us, does not increase in honor. He is always the same. He cannot move into a better or worse state, for He has nothing better, and admits nothing worse.

If, then, they agree that the Holy Spirit is perfect absolutely, and it has been admitted in addition that true reverence requires perfection in every good thing for the Father and the Son as well, what reasons can justify them in taking away the Father when once they have granted Him? For to take away equality of dignity with the Father is a sure proof that they do not think that the Spirit has a share in the perfection of the Father. And as regards the idea itself of this honour in the case of the Divine Being, from which they would exclude the Spirit, what do they mean by it? Do they mean that honour which men confer on men, when by word and gesture they pay respect to them, signifying their own deference in the form of precedence and all such-like practices, which in the foolish fashion of the day are kept up in the name of honour. But all these things depend on the goodwill of those who perform them; and if we suppose a case in which they do not choose to perform them, then there is no one among mankind who has from mere nature any advantage, such that he should necessarily be more honoured than the rest; for all are marked alike with the same natural proportions. The truth of this is clear; it does not admit of any doubt. We see, for instance, the man who today, because of the office which he holds, is considered by the crowd an object of honour, becoming tomorrow himself one of those who pay honour, the office having been transferred to another. Do they, then, conceive of an honour such as that in the case of the Divine Being, so that, as long as we please to pay it, that Divine honour is retained, but when we cease to do so it ceases too at the dictate of our will? Absurd thought, and blasphemous as well! The Deity, being independent of us, does not grow in honour; He is evermore the same; He cannot pass into a better or a worse state; for He has no better, and admits no worse.

In what way, then, can you honor the Deity? How can you elevate the Highest? How can you give glory to that which is already above all glory? How can you praise the Incomprehensible? If all the nations are like a drop from a bucket, as Isaiah says, if all living humanity were to send up one united note of praise in harmony together, what addition will this gift of a mere drop make to that which is essentially glorious? The heavens declare the glory of God, and yet they are considered poor messengers of His worth, because His Majesty is exalted not just as far as the heavens, but high above those heavens, which are themselves included within a small fraction of the Deity figuratively called His span. And shall a man, this frail and short-lived creature, so fittingly compared to grass, who exists today and tomorrow does not, believe that he can worthily honor the Divine Being? It would be like someone lighting a thin fiber from some tow and imagining that by that spark he was adding to the dazzling rays of the sun. By what words, I ask, will you honor the Holy Spirit, supposing you do wish to honor Him at all? By saying that He is absolutely immortal, without turning or variableness, always beautiful, always independent of attribution from others, working as He wills all things in all, Holy, leading, direct, just, of true utterance, searching the deep things of God, proceeding from the Father, receiving from the Son, and all such things, what, after all, do you contribute to Him by these and similar terms? Do you mention what He has, or do you honor Him by what He does not have? Well, if you attest what He does not have, your attribution is meaningless and comes to nothing, for he who calls bitterness sweetness, while he lies himself, has failed to commend that which is blameworthy. Whereas, if you mention what He has, such and such a quality is essential, whether people recognize it or not; He remains the object of faith, says the Apostle, even if we do not have faith.

In what sort of manner, then, can you honour the Deity? How can you heighten the Highest? How can you give glory to that which is above all glory? How can you praise the Incomprehensible? If all the nations are as a drop of a bucket, as Isaiah says, if all living humanity were to send up one united note of praise in harmony together, what addition will this gift of a mere drop be to that which is glorious essentially? The heavens are telling the glory of God, and yet they are counted poor heralds of His worth; because His Majesty is exalted, not as far as the heavens, but high above those heavens, which are themselves included within a small fraction of the Deity called figuratively His span. And shall a man, this frail and short-lived creature, so aptly likened to grass, who today is, and tomorrow is not, believe that he can worthily honour the Divine Being? It would be like some one lighting a thin fibre from some tow and fancying that by that spark he was making an addition to the dazzling rays of the sun. By what words, pray, will you honour the Holy Spirit, supposing you do wish to honour Him at all? By saying that He is absolutely immortal, without turning, or variableness, always beautiful, always independent of ascription from others, working as He wills all things in all, Holy, leading, direct, just, of true utterance, searching the deep things of God, proceeding from the Father, receiving from the Son, and all such-like things, what, after all, do you lend to Him by these and such-like terms? Do you mention what He has, or do you honour Him by what He has not? Well, if you attest what He has not, your ascription is meaningless and comes to nothing; for he who calls bitterness sweetness, while he lies himself, has failed to commend that which is blamable. Whereas, if you mention what He has, such and such a quality is essential, whether men recognize it or not; He remains the object of faith, says the Apostle, if we have not faith.

What, then, explains this lowering and expanding of their soul on the part of these men who are enthusiastic for the Father's honor and grant the Son an equal share with Him, but in the case of the Spirit want to narrow down their favors? It has been demonstrated that the intrinsic worth of the Divine Being does not depend for its contents on any will of ours, but has always been inalienably inherent in Him. Their narrowness of mind and unthankfulness is exposed in this opinion of theirs, while the Holy Spirit is essentially honorable, glorious, almighty, and everything we can conceive of in the way of exaltation, in spite of them.

What means, then, this lowering and this expanding of their soul, on the part of these men who are enthusiastic for the Father's honour, and grant to the Son an equal share with Him, but in the case of the Spirit are for narrowing down their favours; seeing that it has been demonstrated that the intrinsic worth of the Divine Being does not depend for its contents upon any will of ours, but has been always inalienably inherent in Him? Their narrowness of mind, and unthankfulness, is exposed in this opinion of theirs, while the Holy Spirit is essentially honourable, glorious, almighty, and all that we can conceive of in the way of exaltation, in spite of them.

Yes, one of them replies, but we have been taught by Scripture that the Father is the Creator, and likewise that it was "through the Son" that "all things were made." But God's word tells us nothing of this kind about the Spirit. So how can it be right to place the Holy Spirit in a position of equal dignity with One who has displayed such magnificence of power through the Creation?

Yes, replies one of them, but we have been taught by Scripture that the Father is the Creator, and in the same way that it was 'through the Son ' that 'all things were made'; but God's word tells us nothing of this kind about the Spirit; and how, then, can it be right to place the Holy Spirit in a position of equal dignity with One Who has displayed such magnificence of power through the Creation?

What should we answer to this? That the thoughts in their hearts are just empty talk when they imagine that the Spirit was not always with the Father and the Son, but that, depending on the situation, He is sometimes to be thought of as alone and sometimes to be found in the closest union with Them. For if heaven and earth and all created things were really made through the Son and from the Father, but apart from the Spirit, what was the Holy Spirit doing at the time when the Father was working with the Son on creation? Was He busy with some other works, and was that the reason He had no part in building the universe? But what special work of the Spirit can they point to from the time when the world was being made? Surely it is senseless foolishness to think of a creation other than the one that came into existence from the Father through the Son. Well, suppose He was not working at all, but separated Himself from the busy work of creating because He preferred ease and rest and shrank from hard work?

What shall we answer to this? That the thoughts of their hearts are so much idle talk, when they imagine that the Spirit was not always with the Father and the Son, but that, as occasion varies, He is sometimes to be contemplated as alone, sometimes to be found in the closest union with Them. For if the heaven, and the earth, and all created things were really made through the Son and from the Father, but apart from the Spirit, what was the Holy Spirit doing at the time when the Father was at work with the Son upon the Creation? Was He employed upon some other works, and was this the reason that He had no hand in the building of the Universe? But, then, what special work of the Spirit have they to point to, at the time when the world was being made? Surely, it is senseless folly to conceive of a creation other than that which came into existence from the Father through the Son. Well, suppose that He was not employed at all, but dissociated Himself from the busy work of creating by reason of an inclination to ease and rest, which shrank from toil?

May the gracious Spirit Himself pardon this baseless assumption of ours! The blasphemy of these theorists, which we have had to trace through every step it takes, has caused us unwittingly to dirty our discussion with the mud of their own imaginings. The view that is consistent with all reverence is as follows. We are not to think of the Father as ever separated from the Son, nor to look for the Son as separate from the Holy Spirit. Just as it is impossible to ascend to the Father unless our thoughts are lifted there through the Son, so it is also impossible to say that Jesus is Lord except by the Holy Spirit. Therefore, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are to be known only in a perfect Trinity, in closest connection and unity with each other, before all creation, before all the ages, before anything whatever that we can form an idea of. The Father is always Father, and in Him the Son, and with the Son the Holy Spirit. If these Persons, then, are inseparable from each other, how great is the foolishness of these men who try to break apart this indivisibility by certain distinctions of time, and who divide the Inseparable so far as to assert confidently that the Father alone, through the Son alone, made all things—the Holy Spirit, that is, being either not present at all during this making, or else not working. Well, if He was not present, they must tell us where He was, and whether, while God embraces all things, they can imagine any separate place for the Spirit, so that He could have remained in isolation during the time occupied by the process of creating. If, on the other hand, He was present, how was it that He was inactive? Because He could not work, or because He would not work? Did He abstain willingly, or because some strong necessity drove Him away? Now, if He deliberately chose this inactivity, He must reject working in any other possible way as well, and He who affirmed that He works all things in all, as He wills, is according to them a liar. If, on the contrary, this Spirit has the impulse to work, but some overwhelming control hinders His purpose, they must tell us the reason for this hindrance. Was it due to His being grudged a share in the glory of those operations, so that the admiration at their success should not extend to a third person as its object, or to a distrust of His help, as if His cooperation would result in present harm? These clever men most certainly provide the grounds for our holding one of these two hypotheses. Or else, if a grudging spirit has no connection with the Deity, any more than a failure can be conceived of in any relation to an Infallible Being, what meaning of any kind is there in these narrow views of theirs, which isolate the Spirit's power from all world-building activity? Their duty rather was to drive out their low human way of thinking by means of loftier ideas, and to make a calculation more worthy of the sublimity of the objects in question. For neither did the Universal God make the universe through the Son as needing any help, nor does the Only-begotten God work all things by the Holy Spirit as having a power that falls short of His purpose. Rather, the fountain of power is the Father, and the power of the Father is the Son, and the spirit of that power is the Holy Spirit, and creation entirely, in all its visible and spiritual extent, is the finished work of that Divine power. And since no toil can be thought of in the composition of anything connected with the Divine Being (for performance being bound to the moment of willing, the Plan at once becomes a Reality), we would be justified in calling all that Nature which came into existence by creation a movement of Will, an impulse of Design, a transmission of Power, beginning from the Father, advancing through the Son, and completed in the Holy Spirit.

May the gracious Spirit Himself pardon this baseless supposition of ours! The blasphemy of these theorists, which we have had to follow out in every step it takes, has caused us unwittingly to soil our discussion with the mud of their own imaginings. The view which is consistent with all reverence is as follows. We are not to think of the Father as ever parted from the Son, nor to look for the Son as separate from the Holy Spirit. As it is impossible to mount to the Father, unless our thoughts are exalted there through the Son, so it is impossible also to say that Jesus is Lord except by the Holy Spirit. Therefore, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are to be known only in a perfect Trinity, in closest consequence and union with each other, before all creation, before all the ages, before anything whatever of which we can form an idea. The Father is always Father, and in Him the Son, and with the Son the Holy Spirit. If these Persons, then, are inseparate from each other, how great is the folly of these men who undertake to sunder this indivisibility by certain distinctions of time, and so far to divide the Inseparable as to assert confidently, the Father alone, through the Son alone, made all things; the Holy Spirit, that is, being not present at all on the occasion of this making, or else not working. Well, if He was not present, they must tell us where He was; and whether, while God embraces all things, they can imagine any separate standing-place for the Spirit, so that He could have remained in isolation during the time occupied by the process of creating. If, on the other hand, He was present, how was it that He was inactive? Because He could not, or because He would not, work? Did He abstain willingly, or because some strong necessity drove Him away? Now, if He deliberately embraced this inactivity, He must reject working in any other possible way either; and He Who affirmed that He works all things in all, as He wills 1 Corinthians 13:6, is according to them a liar. If, on the contrary, this Spirit has the impulse to work, but some overwhelming control hinders His design, they must tell us the wherefore of this hindrance. Was it owing to his being grudged a share in the glory of those operations, and in order to secure that the admiration at their success should not extend to a third person as its object; or to a distrust of His help, as if His co-operation would result in present mischief? These clever men most certainly furnish the grounds for our holding one of these two hypotheses; or else, if a grudging spirit has no connection with the Deity, any more than a failure can be conceived of in any relation to an Infallible Being, what meaning of any kind is there in these narrow views of theirs, which isolate the Spirit's power from all world-building efficiency? Their duty rather was to expel their low human way of thinking, by means of loftier ideas, and to make a calculation more worthy of the sublimity of the objects in question. For neither did the Universal God make the universe through the Son, as needing any help, nor does the Only-begotten God work all things by the Holy Spirit, as having a power that comes short of His design; but the fountain of power is the Father, and the power of the Father is the Son, and the spirit of that power is the Holy Spirit; and Creation entirely, in all its visible and spiritual extent, is the finished work of that Divine power. And seeing that no toil can be thought of in the composition of anything connected with the Divine Being (for performance being bound to the moment of willing, the Plan at once becomes a Reality), we should be justified in calling all that Nature which came into existence by creation a movement of Will, an impulse of Design, a transmission of Power, beginning from the Father, advancing through the Son, and completed in the Holy Spirit.

This is the view we take, in our usual non-technical way. We reject all these elaborate sophistries of our opponents, believing and confessing that in every deed and thought—whether in this world or beyond this world, whether in time or in eternity—the Holy Spirit is to be understood as joined to the Father and Son, and lacks no wish or energy or anything else that is implied in a devout conception of Supreme Goodness. Therefore, except for the distinction of order and hypostasis, no variation in any respect is to be understood. We assert that while His place is counted third in mere sequence after the Father and Son, third in the order of the transmission, in all other respects we acknowledge His inseparable union with them: in physis, in honor, in godhead and glory and majesty and almighty power, and in all devout belief.

This is the view we take, after the unprofessional way usual with us; and we reject all these elaborate sophistries of our adversaries, believing and confessing as we do, that in every deed and thought, whether in this world, or beyond this world, whether in time or in eternity, the Holy Spirit is to be apprehended as joined to the Father and Son, and is wanting in no wish or energy, or anything else that is implied in a devout conception of Supreme Goodness; and, therefore, that, except for the distinction of order and Person, no variation in any point is to be apprehended; but we assert that while His place is counted third in mere sequence after the Father and Son, third in the order of the transmission, in all other respects we acknowledge His inseparable union with them; both in nature, in honour, in godhead, and glory, and majesty, and almighty power, and in all devout belief.

Regarding service and worship and the other matters they so carefully calculate and emphasize, we say this: the Holy Spirit is exalted above all that we can do for Him with our merely human purpose. Our worship falls far short of the honor due, and anything else that human customs consider honorable falls somewhere below the dignity of the Spirit. For that which is measureless in its essence surpasses those who offer their all with such slight, limited, and inadequate capacity for giving. This, then, we say to those among them who agree with the reverent understanding that the Holy Spirit is Divine and of the Divine nature. But if any of them reject this statement and the concept inherent in the very name of Divinity, and say what circulates among the many to the destruction of the Spirit's greatness—namely, that He belongs not to making but to made beings, and that it is right to regard Him not as Divine but as of created nature—we answer such a claim by saying we cannot understand how we can count those who make it among the number of Christians at all. For just as it would not be possible to call the unformed embryo a human being, but only a potential one (assuming it is completed so as to come forth to human birth, while as long as it remains in this unformed state it is something other than a human being), so our reason cannot recognize as a Christian one who has failed to receive the genuine form of our religion regarding the entire mystery. We can hear Jews believing in God, and our God too—even our Lord reminds them in the Gospel that they recognize no other God than the Father of the Only-begotten, of whom they say "He is your God." Are we then to call the Jews Christians because they too agree to worship the God we adore? I am also aware that the Manichees go about boasting the name of Christ. Because they hold in reverence the Name at which we bow the knee, shall we therefore count them among Christians? Likewise, whoever both believes in the Father and receives the Son but sets aside the Majesty of the Spirit has denied the faith, is worse than an infidel, and belies the name of Christ which he bears. The Apostle commands the man of God to be perfect. Now, to take only the general man, perfection must consist in completeness in every aspect of human nature: having reason, capacity for thought and knowledge, a share of animal life, an upright posture, the ability to laugh, broadness of nail. And if someone were to call an individual a man yet were unable to produce evidence in his case of these signs of human nature, his calling him so would be a worthless honor. In the same way, the Christian is marked by his Belief in Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; in this consists the form of one who is fashioned in accordance with the mystery of the truth. But if his form is arranged otherwise, I will not recognize the existence of anything from which the form is absent. There is a blurring of the mark and a loss of the essential form and an alteration of the characteristic signs of our complete humanity when the Holy Spirit is not included in the Belief. For indeed the word of Ecclesiastes speaks truth: your heretic is no living man but bones in the womb of her who is with child. For how can one who does not think of the unction along with the Anointed be said to believe in the Anointed? God, Peter says, anointed Him with the Holy Spirit.

But with regard to service and worship, and the other things which they so nicely calculate about, and bring into prominence, we say this; that the Holy Spirit is exalted above all that we can do for Him with our merely human purpose; our worship is far beneath the honour due; and anything else that in human customs is held as honourable is somewhere below the dignity of the Spirit; for that which in its essence is measureless surpasses those who offer their all with so slight and circumscribed and paltry a power of giving. This, then, we say to those of them who subscribe to the reverential conception of the Holy Spirit that He is Divine, and of the Divine nature. But if there is any of them who rejects this statement, and this idea involved in the very name of Divinity, and says that which, to the destruction of the Spirit's greatness, is in circulation among the many, namely, that He belongs, not to making, but to made, beings, that it is right to regard Him not as of a Divine, but as of a created nature, we answer to a proposition such as this, that we do not understand how we can count those who make it among the number of Christians at all. For just as it would not be possible to style the unformed embryo a human being, but only a potential one, assuming that it is completed so as to come forth to human birth, while as long as it is in this unformed state, it is something other than a human being; so our reason cannot recognize as a Christian one who has failed to receive, with regard to the entire mystery, the genuine form of our religion. We can hear Jews believing in God, and our God too: even our Lord reminds them in the Gospel that they recognize no other God than the Father of the Only-begotten, of Whom ye say that he is your God. Are we, then, to call the Jews Christians because they too agree to worship the God Whom we adore? I am aware, too, that the Manichees go about vaunting the name of Christ. Because they hold revered the Name to which we bow the knee, shall we therefore number them among Christians? So, too, he who both believes in the Father and receives the Son, but sets aside the Majesty of the Spirit, has denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel, and belies the name of Christ which he bears. The Apostle bids the man of God to be perfect. Now, to take only the general man, perfection must consist in completeness in every aspect of human nature, in having reason, capability of thought and knowledge, a share of animal life, an upright bearing, risibility, broadness of nail; and if any one were to term some individual a man, and yet were unable to produce evidence in his case of the foregoing signs of human nature, his terming him so would be a valueless honour. Thus, too, the Christian is marked by his Belief in Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; in this consists the form of him who is fashioned in accordance with the mystery of the truth. But if his form is arranged otherwise, I will not recognize the existence of anything whence the form is absent; there is a blurring out of the mark, and a loss of the essential form, and an alteration of the characteristic signs of our complete humanity, when the Holy Spirit is not included in the Belief. For indeed the word of Ecclesiastes says true; your heretic is no living man, but bones, he says, in the womb of her that is with child; for how can one who does not think of the unction along with the Anointed be said to believe in the Anointed? Him, says (Peter), did God anoint with the Holy Spirit.

Those who destroy the Spirit's glory by relegating him to a created world must tell us what this anointing symbolizes. Is it not a symbol of kingship? And what then? Do they not believe that the Only-begotten is a king by his very physis? Those who have not permanently covered their hearts with the Jewish veil will not deny that he is. If, then, the Son is a king by his very physis, and the anointing is the symbol of his kingship, what does reason demonstrate as a consequence? Simply this: that the anointing is not something alien to that kingship, and therefore the Spirit is not to be ranked in the Trinity as anything strange or foreign either. For the Son is king, and his living, actual, and personal kingship is found in the Holy Spirit, who anoints the Only-begotten and thus makes him the Anointed One and the king of all things that exist. If, then, the Father is king, and the Only-begotten is king, and the Holy Spirit is the kingship itself, one and the same definition of kingship must prevail throughout this Trinity, and the concept of anointing conveys the hidden meaning that there is no interval of separation between the Son and the Holy Spirit. For just as nothing intervening can be detected between the body's surface and the oil, either by reason or by perception, so inseparable is the union of the Spirit with the Son. The result is that whoever is to touch the Son by faith must first encounter the oil in the very act of touching; there is no part of him devoid of the Holy Spirit. Therefore belief in the lordship of the Son arises in those who hold it through the Holy Spirit; the Holy Spirit is met on all sides by those who approach the Son by faith. If, then, the Son is essentially a king, and the Holy Spirit is that dignity of kingship which anoints the Son, what deprivation of this kingship in its essence, comparing it with itself, can be imagined?

These destroyers of the Spirit's glory, who relegate Him to a subject world, must tell us of what thing that unction is the symbol. It not a symbol of the Kingship? And what? Do they not believe in the Only-begotten as in His very nature a King? Men who have not once for all enveloped their hearts with the Jewish veil 2 Corinthians 3:14-15 will not gainsay that He is this. If, then, the Son is in His very nature a king, and the unction is the symbol of His kingship, what, in the way of a consequence, does your reason demonstrate? Why, that the Unction is not a thing alien to that Kingship, and so that the Spirit is not to be ranked in the Trinity as anything strange and foreign either. For the Son is King, and His living, realized, and personified Kingship is found in the Holy Spirit, Who anoints the Only-begotten, and so makes Him the Anointed, and the King of all things that exist. If, then, the Father is King, and the Only-begotten is King, and the Holy Ghost is the Kingship, one and the same definition of Kingship must prevail throughout this Trinity, and the thought of unction conveys the hidden meaning that there is no interval of separation between the Son and the Holy Spirit. For as between the body's surface and the liquid of the oil nothing intervening can be detected, either in reason or in perception, so inseparable is the union of the Spirit with the Son; and the result is that whosoever is to touch the Son by faith must needs first encounter the oil in the very act of touching; there is not a part of Him devoid of the Holy Spirit. Therefore belief in the Lordship of the Son arises in those who entertain it, by means of the Holy Ghost; on all sides the Holy Ghost is met by those who by faith approach the Son. If, then, the Son is essentially a King, and the Holy Spirit is that dignity of Kingship which anoints the Son, what deprivation of this Kingship, in its essence and comparing it with itself, can be imagined?

Let me look at this carefully. The kingship is clearly demonstrated through rule over subjects. Now what is subject to this Kingly Being? The Word certainly includes the ages, and everything in them. As Scripture says, "Your Kingdom is a Kingdom of ages," and by ages it means every substance created in infinite space within them, whether visible or invisible, for in them all things were created by the Maker of those ages. If, then, kingship must always be thought of along with the king, and the world of subjects is acknowledged to be something different from the world of rulers, how absurd it is for these people to contradict themselves in this way. They attribute the unction as an expression of the worth of the One whose very nature (physis) it is to be a King, yet they degrade that unction itself to the rank of a subject, as if it lacks such worth. If it is a subject by virtue of its nature, then why is it made the unction of kingship and thus associated with the kingly dignity of the Only-begotten? If, on the other hand, the capacity to rule is shown by its inclusion in the majesty of kingship, where is the necessity of dragging everything down to a common and servile lower condition and numbering it with the subject creation? When we affirm these two conditions of the Spirit, we cannot be speaking the truth in both cases—that is, that He is ruling and that He is subject. If He rules, He is not under any lord, but if He is subject, then He cannot be comprehended with the Being who is a King. Men are recognized as among men, angels among angels, everything among its kind, and so the Holy Spirit must be believed to belong to one only of two worlds: to the ruling world or to the inferior world. Between these two, our reason can recognize nothing. No new invention of any natural attribute on the borderland of the created and the uncreated can be thought of that would participate in both yet be neither entirely. We cannot imagine such an amalgamation and welding together of opposites by anything being blended of the created and the uncreated, with two opposites thus coalescing into one prosopon. In that case, the result of that strange mixture would not only be a composite thing but composed of elements that were unlike and disagreeing as to time, for that which receives its personality from a creation is certainly posterior to that which subsists without a creation.

Again, let us look at it in this way. Kingship is most assuredly shown in the rule over subjects. Now what is subject to this Kingly Being? The Word includes the ages certainly, and all that is in them; Your Kingdom, it says, is a Kingdom of ages, and, by ages, it means every substance in them created in infinite space, whether visible or invisible; for in them all things were created by the Maker of those ages. If, then, the Kingship must always be thought of along with the King, and the world of subjects is acknowledged to be something other than the world of rulers, what absurdity it is for these men to contradict themselves thus, attributing as they do the unction as an expression for the worth of Him Whose very nature it is to be a King, yet degrading that unction Itself to the rank of a subject, as if wanting in such worth! If It is a subject by virtue of its nature, then why is It made the unction of Kingship, and so associated with the Kingly dignity of the Only-begotten? If, on the other hand, the capacity to rule is shown by Its being included in the majesty of Kingship, where is the necessity of having everything dragged down to a plebeian and servile lower condition, and numbered with the subject creation? When we affirm of the Spirit the two conditions, we cannot be in both cases speaking the truth: i.e. that He is ruling, and that He is subject. If He rules, He is not under any lord, but if He is subject, then He cannot be comprehended with the Being who is a King. Men are recognized as among men, angels among angels, everything among its kind; and so the Holy Spirit must needs be believed to belong to one only of two worlds; to the ruling, or to the inferior world; for between these two our reason can recognize nothing; no new invention of any natural attribute on the borderland of the Created and the Uncreated can be thought of, such as would participate in both, yet be neither entirely; we cannot imagine such an amalgamation and welding together of opposites by anything being blended of the Created and the Uncreated, and two opposites thus coalescing into one person, in which case the result of that strange mixture would not only be a composite thing, but composed of elements that were unlike, and disagreeing as to time; for that which receives its personality from a creation is assuredly posterior to that which subsists without a creation.

If, then, they declare the Holy Spirit to be blended of both, they must consequently view that blending as of a prior with a posterior thing; and, according to them, He will be prior to Himself and, conversely, posterior to Himself. From the Uncreated He will get seniority, and from the Created He will get juniority. But in the nature of things, this cannot be; and so it must most certainly be true to affirm of the Holy Spirit only one of these alternatives, and that is the attribute of being Uncreated. Notice the amount of absurdity involved in the other alternative: all things that we can think of in the actual creation have, by virtue of all having received their existence by an act of creation, a rank and value that are perfectly equal in all cases. So what reason can there be for separating the Holy Spirit from the rest of creation and ranking Him with the Father and the Son? Logic, then, will discover this about Him: that which is contemplated as part of the Uncreated does not exist by creation. Or, if it does, then it has no more power than its kindred creation; it cannot associate itself with that Transcendent Nature. If, on the other hand, they declare that He is a created being and at the same time has a power which is above creation, then the creation will be found at variance with itself, divided into ruler and ruled, so that part of it is the benefactor and part the benefited, part the sanctifier and part the sanctified. And all that fund of blessings which we believe to be provided for the creation by the Holy Spirit are present in Him, welling up abundantly and pouring forth upon others, while the creation remains in need of the help and grace that issue from Him, and receives, as a mere dole, those blessings which can be passed to it from a fellow-creature. That would be like favoritism and respecting of persons. We know that there is no such partiality in the nature of things, such that those existences which differ in no way from each other on the basis of substance should not have equal power; and I think that no one who reflects will admit such views. Either He imparts nothing to others, if He possesses nothing essentially; or, if we do believe that He gives, His possession beforehand of that gift must be granted. This capacity of giving blessings, while needing oneself no such extraneous help, is the peculiar and exquisite privilege of Deity, and of no other.

If, then, they declare the Holy Ghost to be blended of both, they must consequently view that blending as of a prior with a posterior thing; and, according to them, He will be prior to Himself; and reversely, posterior to Himself; from the Uncreated He will get the seniority, and from the Created the juniority. But, in the nature of things, this cannot be; and so it must most certainly be true to affirm of the Holy Spirit one only of these alternatives, and that is, the attribute of being Uncreated; for notice the amount of absurdity involved in the other alternative; all things that we can think of in the actual creation have, by virtue of all having received their existence by an act of creation, a rank and value perfectly equal in all cases, and so what reason can there be for separating the Holy Spirit from the rest of the creation, and ranking Him with the Father and the Son? Logic, then, will discover this about Him; That which is contemplated as part of the Uncreated, does not exist by creation; or, if It does, then It has no more power than its kindred creation, It cannot associate itself with that Transcendent Nature; if, on the other hand, they declare that He is a created being, and at the same time has a power which is above the creation, then the creation will be found at variance with itself, divided into ruler and ruled, so that part of it is the benefactor, part the benefited, part the sanctifier, part the sanctified; and all that fund of blessings which we believe to be provided for the creation by the Holy Spirit are present in Him, welling up abundantly, and pouring forth upon others, while the creation remains in need of the thence-issuing help and grace, and receives, as a mere dole, those blessings which can be passed to it from a fellow-creature! That would be like favouritism and respecting of persons; when we know that there is no such partiality in the nature of things, as that those existences which differ in no way from each other on the score of substance should not have equal power; and I think that no one who reflects will admit such views. Either He imparts nothing to others, if He possesses nothing essentially; or, if we do believe that He does give, His possession beforehand of that gift must be granted; this capacity of giving blessings, while needing oneself no such extraneous help, is the peculiar and exquisite privilege of Deity, and of no other.

Then let us look at this too. In Holy Baptism, what is it that we secure? Is it not participation in a life no longer subject to death? I think that no one who can in any way be counted among Christians will deny that statement. What then? Is that life-giving power in the water itself which is used to convey the grace of Baptism? Or is it not rather clear to everyone that this element is only used as a means in the outward ministry, and by itself contributes nothing toward the sanctification, unless it is first transformed itself by the sanctification; and that what gives life to the baptized is the Spirit? As our Lord Himself says about Him with His own lips, It is the Spirit that gives life. But for the completion of this grace, the Spirit alone, received by faith, does not give life; instead, belief in our Lord must come first, so that the life-giving gift may come upon the believer, as our Lord has said, He gives life to whom He wills. But beyond this, seeing that this grace administered through the Son depends on the Unbegotten Source of all, Scripture accordingly teaches us that belief in the Father Who begets all things must come first, so that this life-giving grace should be completed, for those fit to receive it, after starting from that Source as from a spring pouring out life abundantly, through the Only-begotten Who is the True life, by the operation of the Holy Spirit. If, then, life comes in baptism, and baptism receives its completion in the name of Father, Son, and Spirit, what do these men mean who count this Minister of life as nothing? If the gift is a small one, they must tell us what thing is more precious than this life. But if everything precious is second to this life—I mean that higher and precious life in which brute creation has no part—how can they dare to depreciate so great a favor, or rather the actual Being who grants the favor, and to degrade Him in their thinking to a created world by separating Him from the higher world of deity? Finally, if they insist that this bestowal of life is a small thing, and that it means nothing great and awesome in the nature of the Bestower, why do they not draw the conclusion which this very view makes inevitable, namely, that we must suppose, even regarding the Only-begotten and the Father Himself, nothing great in Their life, which is the same life that we have through the Holy Spirit, supplied as it is from the Father through the Son?

Then let us look to this too. In Holy Baptism, what is it that we secure thereby? Is it not a participation in a life no longer subject to death? I think that no one who can in any way be reckoned among Christians will deny that statement. What then? Is that life-giving power in the water itself which is employed to convey the grace of Baptism? Or is it not rather clear to every one that this element is only employed as a means in the external ministry, and of itself contributes nothing towards the sanctification, unless it be first transformed itself by the sanctification; and that what gives life to the baptized is the Spirit; as our Lord Himself says in respect to Him with His own lips, It is the Spirit that gives life; but for the completion of this grace He alone, received by faith, does not give life, but belief in our Lord must precede, in order that the lively gift may come upon the believer, as our Lord has spoken, He gives life to whom He wills. But further still, seeing that this grace administered through the Son is dependent on the Ungenerate Source of all, Scripture accordingly teaches us that belief in the Father Who engenders all things is to come first; so that this life-giving grace should be completed, for those fit to receive it, after starting from that Source as from a spring pouring life abundantly, through the Only-begotten Who is the True life, by the operation of the Holy Spirit. If, then, life comes in baptism, and baptism receives its completion in the name of Father, Son, and Spirit, what do these men mean who count this Minister of life as nothing? If the gift is a slight one, they must tell us the thing that is more precious than this life. But if everything whatever that is precious is second to this life, I mean that higher and precious life in which the brute creation has no part, how can they dare to depreciate so great a favour, or rather the actual Being who grants the favour, and to degrade Him in their conceptions of Him to a subject world by disjoining Him from the higher world of deity. Finally, if they will have it that this bestowal of life is a small thing, and that it means nothing great and awful in the nature of the Bestower, how is it they do not draw the conclusion which this very view makes inevitable, namely, that we must suppose, even with regard to the Only-begotten and the Father Himself, nothing great in Their life, the same as that which we have through the Holy Spirit, supplied as it is from the Father through the Son?

If these people who despise and oppose their very own life consider the gift a small thing and therefore decide to treat lightly the Being who grants the gift, they should realize they cannot limit their ingratitude to one Person alone. Rather, they must extend its profanity beyond the Holy Spirit to the Holy Trinity itself. For just as grace flows down in an unbroken stream from the Father, through the Son and the Spirit, to those who are worthy of it, so this profanity returns backward and is transmitted from the Son to the God of all the world, passing from one to the other. If when a man is slighted, the one who sent him is also slighted—and what a distance there was between the man and the sender!—what criminality is implied in those who defy the Holy Spirit this way! Perhaps this is the blasphemy against our Lawgiver for which the judgment without remission has been decreed, since in him the entire Being, blessed and divine, is also insulted. Just as the devout worshipper of the Spirit sees in him the glory of the Only-begotten, and in that sight beholds the image of the infinite God, and by means of that image forms in his own mind an outline of the Original, so most clearly does this person who despises the Spirit, whenever he makes any of his bold statements against the glory of the Spirit, extend by the same reasoning his profanity to the Son, and beyond him to the Father. Therefore, those who think carefully must fear that they might commit an audacity whose result will be the complete blotting out of the one who commits it. While they exalt the Spirit in their words, they should exalt him in their thought even before speaking, since it is impossible for words to rise along with thought. Still, when someone reaches the highest limit of human abilities, the utmost height and magnificence of understanding that the mind can ever attain, even then one must believe it falls far below the glory that belongs to him, according to the words in the Psalms, that after exalting the Lord our God, even then you scarcely worship the footstool beneath his feet. And the reason this dignity is so incomprehensible is nothing other than that he is holy.

So that if these despisers and impugners of their very own life conceive of the gift as a little one, and decree accordingly to slight the Being who imparts the gift, let them be made aware that they cannot limit to one Person only their ingratitude, but must extend its profanity beyond the Holy Spirit to the Holy Trinity Itself. For like as the grace flows down in an unbroken stream from the Father, through the Son and the Spirit, upon the persons worthy of it, so does this profanity return backward, and is transmitted from the Son to the God of all the world, passing from one to the other. If, when a man is slighted, He Who sent him is slighted (yet what a distance there was between the man and the Sender!), what criminality is thereby implied in those who thus defy the Holy Spirit! Perhaps this is the blasphemy against our Law-giver for which the judgment without remission has been decreed; since in Him the entire Being, Blessed and Divine, is insulted also. As the devout worshipper of the Spirit sees in Him the glory of the Only-begotten, and in that sight beholds the image of the Infinite God, and by means of that image makes an outline, upon his own cognition, of the Original, so most plainly does this contemner (of the Spirit), whenever he advances any of his bold statements against the glory of the Spirit, extend, by virtue of the same reasoning, his profanity to the Son, and beyond Him to the Father. Therefore, those who reflect must have fear lest they perpetrate an audacity the result of which will be the complete blotting out of the perpetrator of it; and while they exalt the Spirit in the naming, they will even before the naming exalt Him in their thought, it being impossible that words can mount along with thought; still when one shall have reached the highest limit of human faculties, the utmost height and magnificence of idea to which the mind can ever attain, even then one must believe it is far below the glory that belongs to Him, according to the words in the Psalms, that after exalting the Lord our God, even then ye scarcely worship the footstool beneath His feet: and the cause of this dignity being so incomprehensible is nothing else than that He is holy.

If, then, every height of human ability falls below the grandeur of the Spirit (for that is what the Word means in the metaphor of footstool), what vanity is theirs who think that there is within themselves a power so great that it rests with them to define the amount of value to be attributed to a being who is beyond value! And so they pronounce the Holy Spirit unworthy of some things which are associated with the idea of value, as if their own abilities could do far more than the Spirit, as they estimate him, is capable of. What pitiable, what wretched madness! They do not understand what they are themselves when they talk like this, and what the Holy Spirit is against whom they insolently set themselves. Who will tell these people that human beings are a spirit that goes forth and does not return again, built up in their mother's womb by means of a polluted conception, and all of them returning to polluted earth; inheriting a life that is likened to grass; blooming for a little while during life's illusion, and then withering away, and all the bloom upon them being shed and vanishing; they themselves not knowing with certainty what they were before their birth, nor into what they will be changed, their soul being ignorant of her peculiar destiny as long as she remains in the flesh? Such is man.

If, then, every height of man's ability falls below the grandeur of the Spirit (for that is what the Word means in the metaphor of footstool), what vanity is theirs who think that there is within themselves a power so great that it rests with them to define the amount of value to be attributed to a being who is invaluable! And so they pronounce the Holy Spirit unworthy of some things which are associated with the idea of value, as if their own abilities could do far more than the Spirit, as estimated by them, is capable of. What pitiable, what wretched madness! They understand not what they are themselves when they talk like this, and what the Holy Spirit against Whom they insolently range themselves. Who will tell these people that men are a spirit that goes forth and returns not again Wisdom 16:14, built up in their mother's womb by means of a soiled conception, and returning all of them to a soiled earth; inheriting a life that is likened unto grass; blooming for a little during life's illusion, and then withering away, and all the bloom upon them being shed and vanishing; they themselves not knowing with certainty what they were before their birth, nor into what they will be changed, their soul being ignorant of her peculiar destiny as long as she tarries in the flesh? Such is man.

The Holy Spirit is, first of all, because of qualities that are essentially holy, what the Father, essentially Holy, is; and such as the Only-begotten is, such is the Holy Spirit. Furthermore, He is so by virtue of being life-giving, imperishable, unchangeable, everlasting, just, wise, upright, sovereign, good, powerful, able to give all good things—and above them all, life itself—and by being everywhere, present in each individual, filling the earth, dwelling in the heavens, poured out upon supernatural Powers, filling all things according to what each deserves, while Himself remaining full, being with all who are worthy, and yet not separated from the Holy Trinity. He continually searches the deep things of God, continually receives from the Son, is continually being sent and yet not separated, and is glorified and yet has always possessed glory. It is obvious, in fact, that one who gives glory to another must be found to possess superabundant glory himself; for how could someone devoid of glory glorify another? Unless something is itself light, how can it display the gracious gift of light? So the power to glorify could never be displayed by one who was not himself glory, honor, majesty, and greatness. Now the Spirit does glorify the Father and the Son. Neither does He lie who says, "Those who glorify Me I will glorify," and our Lord says to the Father, "I have glorified You," and again He says, "Glorify Me with the glory which I had with You before the world was." The Divine Voice answers, "I have both glorified, and will glorify again." You see the revolving circle of glory moving from Like to Like. The Son is glorified by the Spirit; the Father is glorified by the Son; again the Son has His glory from the Father; and the Only-begotten thus becomes the glory of the Spirit. For with what shall the Father be glorified, but with the true glory of the Son? And with what again shall the Son be glorified, but with the majesty of the Spirit? In the same way, again, faith completes the circle and glorifies the Son by means of the Spirit, and the Father by means of the Son.

On the contrary the Holy Spirit is, to begin with, because of qualities that are essentially holy, that which the Father, essentially Holy, is; and such as the Only-begotten is, such is the Holy Spirit; then, again, He is so by virtue of life-giving, of imperishability, of unvariableness, of everlastingness, of justice, of wisdom, of rectitude, of sovereignty, of goodness, of power, of capacity to give all good things, and above them all life itself, and by being everywhere, being present in each, filling the earth, residing in the heavens, shed abroad upon supernatural Powers, filling all things according to the deserts of each, Himself remaining full, being with all who are worthy, and yet not parted from the Holy Trinity. He ever searches the deep things of God, ever receives from the Son, ever is being sent, and yet not separated, and being glorified, and yet He has always had glory. It is plain, indeed, that one who gives glory to another must be found himself in the possession of superabundant glory; for how could one devoid of glory glorify another? Unless a thing be itself light, how can it display the gracious gift of light? So the power to glorify could never be displayed by one who was not himself glory, and honour, and majesty, and greatness. Now the Spirit does glorify the Father and the Son. Neither does He lie Who says, Them that glorify Me I glorify 1 Samuel 2:30; and I have glorified You, is said by our Lord to the Father; and again He says, Glorify Me with the glory which I had with You before the world was. The Divine Voice answers, I have both glorified, and will glorify again. You see the revolving circle of the glory moving from Like to Like. The Son is glorified by the Spirit; the Father is glorified by the Son; again the Son has His glory from the Father; and the Only-begotten thus becomes the glory of the Spirit. For with what shall the Father be glorified, but with the true glory of the Son: and with what again shall the Son be glorified, but with the majesty of the Spirit? In like manner, again, Faith completes the circle, and glorifies the Son by means of the Spirit, and the Father by means of the Son.

If the Spirit is this great, and everything morally beautiful and good comes from God through the Son and is completed through the Spirit who works all things in all people, why do they oppose their own life? Why do they cut themselves off from the hope that belongs to those who are being saved? Why do they separate themselves from union with God? For how can anyone be joined to the Lord unless the Spirit works within us to create that union with Him? Why do they argue with us about how much service and worship is appropriate? Why do they use the word worship sarcastically, as if it demeans a Divine and completely independent Being, when they claim to want their own salvation? We would say to them: Your prayer benefits you who ask, not the One who grants it. Why, then, do you approach your Benefactor as if you have something to offer Him? Or rather, why do you refuse to call Him a benefactor at all when He gives you blessings, and why do you disregard the Life-giver while clinging to life? Why, when seeking His sanctification, do you misunderstand the one who gives sanctifying grace? And regarding the giving of these blessings, why do you not deny that He has the power to give them, yet consider Him unworthy to be asked, failing to recognize that it is far greater to actually give a blessing than to be asked for it? Asking does not prove that the one being asked is great, because someone who does not have something to give can still be asked for it—the asking depends only on the will of the person asking. But someone who actually grants a blessing has thereby given undeniable proof of power residing in him. Why then, while acknowledging the greater thing in Him—that is, the power to give everything morally beautiful—do you withhold from Him the asking, as if it were something important? Yet asking, as we have said, is often directed to those who have no power at all, because of the delusion of their worshipers. For example, superstitious people ask idols for what they want, but the asking does not bring glory to the idols. People pay attention to them only because of the mistaken expectation that they will receive something they ask for, and so they keep asking. But you, who are convinced of what great things the Holy Spirit gives, neglect to ask Him for them, taking refuge in the law that commands you to "worship God and serve Him only." Well, how will you worship Him only, tell me, when you have separated Him from His intimate union with His own Only-begotten and His own Spirit? This worship is simply Jewish.

If such, then, is the greatness of the Spirit, and whatever is morally beautiful, whatever is good, coming from God as it does through the Son, is completed by the instrumentality of the Spirit that works all in all, why do they set themselves against their own life? Why do they alienate themselves from the hope belonging to such as are to be saved? Why do they sever themselves from their cleaving unto God? For how can any man cleave unto the Lord unless the Spirit operates within us that union of ourselves with Him? Why do they haggle with us about the amount of service and of worship? Why do they use that word worship in an ironical sense, derogatory to a Divine and entirely Independent Being, supposing that they desire their own salvation? We would say to them, Your supplication is the advantage of you who ask, and not the honouring of Him Who grants it. Why, then, do you approach your Benefactor as if you had something to give? Or rather, why do you refuse to name as a benefactor at all Him Who gives you your blessings, and slight the Life-giver while clinging to Life? Why, seeking for His sanctification, do you misconceive of the Dispenser of the Grace of sanctification; and as to the giving of those blessings, why, not denying that He has the power, do you deem Him not worthy to be asked to give, and fail to take this into consideration, viz. how much greater a thing it is to give some blessing than to be asked to give it? The asking does not unmistakably witness to greatness in him who is asked; for it is possible that one who does not have the thing to give might be asked for it, for the asking depends only on the will of the asker. But one who actually bestows some blessing has thereby given undoubted evidence of a power residing in him. Why then, while testifying to the greater thing in Him — I mean the power to bestow everything that is morally beautiful — do you deprive Him of the asking, as of something of importance; although his asking, as we have said, is often performed in the case of those who have nothing in their power, owing to the delusion of their devotees? For instance, the slaves of superstition ask the idols for the objects of their wishes; but the asking does not, in this instance of the idols, confer any glory; only people pay that attention to them owing to the deluded expectation that they will get some one of the things they ask for, and so they do not cease to ask. But you, persuaded as you are of what and how great things the Holy Spirit is the Giver, do you neglect the asking them from Him, taking refuge in the law which bids you 'worship God and serve Him only?' Well, how will you worship Him only, tell me, when you have severed Him from His intimate union with His own Only-begotten and His own Spirit? This worship is simply Jewish.

But you will say, "When I think of the Father, it is the Son alone that I have included as well in that term." But tell me: when you have grasped the notion of the Son, have you not admitted in it that of the Holy Spirit too? For how can you confess the Son except by the Holy Spirit? At what moment, then, is the Spirit in a state of separation from the Son, so that when the Father is being worshipped, the worship of the Spirit is not included along with that of the Son? And as for their worship itself, what in the world do they consider it to be? They bestow it, as some exquisite piece of honor, upon the God over all, and convey it over sometimes so as to reach the Only-begotten also, but the Holy Spirit they regard as unworthy of such a privilege. Now, in the common language of mankind, that self-prostration of inferiors upon the ground which they practice when they greet their betters is called worship. Thus, it was by such a posture that the patriarch Jacob, in his self-humiliation, seems to have wished to show his inferiority when coming to meet his brother and to appease his anger, for he bowed himself to the ground, the Scripture says, three times. And Joseph's brothers, as long as they did not know him and he pretended before them that he did not know them, because of the exaltation of his rank reverenced his sovereignty with this worship. And even the great Abraham himself bowed himself to the children of Heth, a stranger among the natives of that land, showing, I think, by that action how far more powerful those natives were than sojourners. It is possible to speak of many such actions both in the ancient records and from examples before our eyes in the world now.

But you will say, When I think of the Father it is the Son (alone) that I have included as well in that term. But tell me; when you have grasped the notion of the Son have you not admitted therein that of the Holy Spirit too? For how can you confess the Son except by the Holy Spirit? At what moment, then, is the Spirit in a state of separation from the Son, so that when the Father is being worshipped, the worship of the Spirit is not included along with that of the Son? And as regards their worship itself, what in the world do they reckon it to be? They bestow it, as some exquisite piece of honour, upon the God over all, and convey it over, sometimes, so as to reach the Only-begotten also; but the Holy Spirit they regard as unworthy of such a privilege. Now, in the common parlance of mankind, that self-prostration of inferiors upon the ground which they practise when they salute their betters is termed worship. Thus, it was by such a posture that the patriarch Jacob, in his self-humiliation, seems to have wished to show his inferiority when coming to meet his brother and to appease his wrath; for he bowed himself to the ground, says the Scripture, three times; and Joseph's brethren, as long as they knew him not, and he pretended before them that he knew them not, by reason of the exaltation of his rank reverenced his sovereignty with this worship; and even the great Abraham himself bowed himself to the children of Heth, a stranger among the natives of that land, showing, I opine, by that action, how far more powerful those natives were than sojourners. It is possible to speak of many such actions both in the ancient records, and from examples before our eyes in the world now.

Do they mean the same thing by their worship? Well, isn't it absurd to think it is wrong to honor the Holy Spirit with the same honor that the patriarch gave even to Canaanites? Or do they think their worship is something different, as if one kind is appropriate for human beings and another for the Supreme Being? But then why do they leave out worship entirely when it comes to the Spirit, not even giving Him the worship granted to human beings? And what kind of worship do they imagine is reserved especially for the Deity? Is it spoken words or physical gestures? But aren't these marks of honor shared by human beings as well? In their case, words are spoken and gestures are made. Isn't it clear to anyone with even the smallest capacity for thought that humanity has no gift worthy of the Deity to give? For the Author of all blessings has no need of us. But we human beings have transferred these signs of respect and admiration, which we use toward each other when we want to show by acknowledging a neighbor's superiority that one of us is in a lower position than another, to our service of a Higher Power; from our possessions we make a gift of what is most precious to a priceless Nature. Therefore, when people approach emperors and rulers seeking things they want to obtain from those rulers, they do not bring merely their petition alone, but use every possible means to make them feel pity and favor toward themselves, using a humble voice and a kneeling position, clasping their knees, prostrating themselves on the ground, and putting forward all sorts of pathetic signs to plead for their petition and awaken that pity—in the same way, those who recognize the True Ruler, by whom all existing things are controlled, when they are asking for what they have at heart—some lowly in spirit because of pitiable conditions in this world, some with their thoughts lifted up because of their eternal mysterious hopes—since they do not know how to ask, and their humanity is not capable of displaying any reverence that can reach the greatness of that Glory, carry the ceremony used in the case of human beings into the service of the Deity. And this is what worship is—that which is offered for the things we have at heart along with supplication and humiliation. Therefore Daniel also bends his knees to the Lord when asking His love for the captive people; and He who bore our sicknesses and intercedes for us is recorded in the Gospel to have fallen on His face, because of the man that He had taken upon Himself, at the hour of prayer, and in this posture to have made His petition, teaching by this, I think, that at the time of our petition our voice is not to be bold, but that we are to assume the attitude of the wretched; since the Lord resists the proud but gives grace to the humble; and somewhere else He says, whoever exalts himself will be humbled. If, then, worship is a kind of suppliant state, or pleading put forward for the object of the petition, what is the point of these newfangled rules? These men do not even deign to ask of the Giver, or to kneel to the Ruler, or to attend upon the Ruler.

Do they too, then, mean this by their worship? Well, is it anything but absurdity to think that it is wrong to honour the Holy Spirit with that with which the patriarch honoured even Canaanites? Or do they consider their worship something different to this, as if one sort were fitting for men, another sort for the Supreme Being? But then, how is it that they omit worship altogether in the instance of the Spirit, not even bestowing upon Him the worship conceded in the case of men? And what kind of worship do they imagine to be reserved especially for the Deity? Is it to be spoken word, or acted gesture? Well, but are not these marks of honour shared by men as well? In their case words are spoken and gestures acted. Is it not, then, plain to every one who possesses the least amount of reflection, that any gift worthy of the Deity mankind has not got to give; for the Author of all blessings has no need of us. But it is we men who have transferred these indications of respect and admiration, which we adopt towards each other, when we would show by the acknowledgment of a neighbour's superiority that one of us is in a humbler position than another, to our attendance upon a Higher Power; out of our possessions we make a gift of what is most precious to a priceless Nature. Therefore, since men, approaching emperors and potentates for the objects which they wish in some way to obtain from those rulers, do not bring to them their mere petition only, but employ every possible means to induce them to feel pity and favour towards themselves, adopting a humble voice, and a kneeling position, clasping their knees, prostrating themselves on the ground, and putting forward to plead for their petition all sorts of pathetic signs, to wake that pity — so it is that those who recognize the True Potentate, by Whom all things in existence are controlled, when they are supplicating for that which they have at heart, some lowly in spirit because of pitiable conditions in this world, some with their thoughts lifted up because of their eternal mysterious hopes, seeing that they know not how to ask, and that their humanity is not capable of displaying any reverence that can reach to the grandeur of that Glory, carry the ceremonial used in the case of men into the service of the Deity. And this is what worship is — that, I mean, which is offered for objects we have at heart along with supplication and humiliation. Therefore Daniel too bends the knees to the Lord, when asking His love for the captive people; and He Who bare our sicknesses, and intercedes for us, is recorded in the Gospel to have fallen on His face, because of the man that He had taken upon Him, at the hour of prayer, and in this posture to have made His petition, enjoining thereby, I think, that at the time of our petition our voice is not to be bold, but that we are to assume the attitude of the wretched; since the Lord resists the proud, but gives grace unto the humble; and somewhere else (He says), he that exalts himself shall be abased. If, then, worship is a sort of suppliant state, or pleading put forward for the object of the petition, what is the intention of these new-fashioned regulations? These men do not even deign to ask of the Giver, nor to kneel to the Ruler, nor to attend upon the Potentate.

It is important for understanding the following book to determine what mental faculty *epinoia* is. Gregory says that Eunomius makes a deliberate mockery of the word. He reduces its meaning to the lowest possible level and makes it merely the imagining of unnatural things, either shrinking or expanding the boundaries of nature, or combining incompatible concepts. He gives examples like colossi, pygmies, and centaurs as products of this mental operation. Fancy, or notion, would thus represent Eunomius' view of it. But Gregory attributes every art and every science to the working of this faculty. According to my explanation, it is the method by which we discover things that are unknown, moving on to further discoveries by means of what is adjacent to and follows from our first perception regarding the thing being studied. He gives examples like ontology, arithmetic, and geometry on the one hand, and agriculture, navigation, and timekeeping on the other, as results of it. Anyone who judged this faculty more valuable than any other ability we possess would not be far wrong. Induction might almost represent this view of it. But then Gregory does not deny that false marvels are also produced by it. By means of it an entertainer might amuse an audience with fire-breathing monsters, men wrapped in the coils of serpents, and so on. He calls it an inventive faculty. It must therefore be something more spontaneous than logical reasoning, whether deductive or inductive, while it is more reliable than fancy or imagination.

It is important, for the understanding of the following Book, to determine what faculty of the mind ̓ Επίνοια is. Eunomius, Gregory says, makes a solemn travesty of the word. He reduces its force to its lowest level, and makes it only fancy the unnatural, either contracting or extending the limits of nature, or putting heterogeneous notions together. He instances colossi, pigmies, centaurs, as the result of this mental operation. Fancy, or notion, would thus represent Eunomius' view of it. But Gregory ascribes every art and every science to the play of this faculty. According to my account, it is the method by which we discover things that are unknown, going on to further discoveries, by means of what adjoins and follows from our first perception with regard to the thing studied. He instances Ontology (!), Arithmetic, Geometry, on the one hand, Agriculture, Navigation, Horology, on the other, as the result of it. Any one who should judge this faculty more precious than any other with the exercise of which we are gifted would not be far mistaken. Induction might almost represent this view of it. But then Gregory does not deny that lying wonders are also fabricated by it. By means of it and entertainer might amuse an audience with fire-breathing monsters, men enfolded in the coils of serpents, etc. He calls it an inventive faculty. It must therefore be something more spontaneous than ratiocination, whether deductive or inductive; while it is more reliable than Fancy or Imagination.

This is illustrated by what Saint John Damascene says about Epinoia in his Dialectica (chapter 65): It has two kinds. The first is the faculty that analyzes and clarifies our view of things that are undivided and taken as a whole. Through this faculty, a simple phenomenon becomes complex when examined theoretically: for example, man becomes a compound of soul and body. The second kind, by combining perception and imagination, produces fictions from real things—that is, it divides wholes into parts and then combines those parts, chosen arbitrarily, into new wholes; for example, Centaurs and Sirens. Analysis (scientific) would describe the first kind; imagination would describe the second. Basil and Gregory were thinking of the first kind, Eunomius of the second, yet both parties used the same term.

This is illustrated by what S. John Damascene, in his Dialectica (c. 65), says of ̓ Επίνοια: It is of two sorts. The first is the faculty which analyses and elucidates the view of things undissected and in the gross ( ὁ λοσχερῆ): whereby a simple phenomenon becomes complex speculatively: for instance, man becomes a compound of soul and body. The second, by a union of perception and fancy, produces fictions out of realities, i.e. divides wholes into parts, and combines those parts, selected arbitrarily, into new wholes; e.g. Centaurs, Sirens. Analysis (scientific) would describe the one; fancy, the other. Basil and Gregory were thinking of the one, Eunomius of the other; but still both parties used the same expression.

If, then, there is one word that will cover the whole meaning, it would seem to be Conception. This word, at least, both in its outward form and in its intention, stands to perception in a way strictly analogous to that in which Epinoia stands to Ennoia. Both Conception and Epinoia represent some regulated operation of the mind upon data immediately given. In both cases the mind is led to contemplate its own contents in a new light, whether sensations or innate ideas. The fitness of Conception as an equivalent of Epinoia will be clear when we consider the real point at issue between Basil and Eunomius. Their controversy centers on the term Ungenerate. Is it, or is it not, expressive of the ousia of the Deity? To answer this question, it was found necessary to determine how such a name for the Supreme has been acquired. By a conception, says Basil. No, says Eunomius: it would be dangerous to trust the naming of the Deity to a common operation of the mind. The faculty of Conception may and does deceive us; it can create monstrosities. Besides, if the names of the Father are conceptions, the names of the Son are too; for instance, the Door, the Shepherd, the Axe, the Vine. But since our Lord Himself applied these to Himself, He would, according to you, be employing the faculty of conception; and it is blasphemous to think that He employed names which we too might have arrived at by conceiving of Him in these particular ways. Therefore, Conception is not the source of the Divine Names; rather they come from a perception or intention implanted in us directly from on high. Ungenerate is such a name; and it reveals to us the very ousia of the Deity. But Gregory defends Basil's position. He shows the entire relativity of our knowledge of the Deity. Ungenerate and every other name of God is due to a conception; in each case we perceive either an operation of the Deity, or an element of evil, and then we conceive of Him as operating in the one, or as free from the other; and so name Him. But there is no conception, because there is no perception, of the ousia of the Deity. Scripture, which has revealed His operations, has not revealed that. The human mind feels after the unutterable Being in various and many-sided ways; and never pursues the mystery in the light of one idea alone. Our grasping of Him would indeed be easy, if there lay before us one single assigned path to the knowledge of God; but, as it is, from the skill apparent in the Universe, we get the idea of skill in the Ruler of the Universe; and again, when we see the execrable character of evil, we grasp His own unalterable purity as regards this, not that we divide up the subject of such attributes along with them, but, believing that this Being, whatever it be in ousia, is one, we still conceive that it has something in common with all these ideas.

If, then, there is one word that will cover the whole meaning, it would seem to be Conception. This word at all events, both in its outward form and in its intention, stands to perception in a way strictly analogous to that in which ̓ Επίνοια stands to ̓́ Εννοια. Both Conception and ̓ Επίνοια represent some regulated operation of the mind upon data immediately given. In both cases the mind is led to contemplate in a new light its own contents, whether sensations or innate ideas. The fitness of Conception as an equivalent of ̓ Επίνοια will be clear when we consider the real point at issue between Basil and Eunomius. Their controversy rages round the term Ungenerate. Is it, or is it not, expressive of the substance (being) of the Deity? To answer this question, it was found necessary to ascertain how such a name for the Supreme has been acquired. By a conception, says Basil. No, says Eunomius: it would be dangerous to trust the naming of the Deity to a common operation of the mind. The faculty of Conception may and does play us false; it can create monstrosities. Besides, if the names of the Father are conceptions, the names of the Son are too; for instance, the Door, the Shepherd, the Axe, the Vine. But as our Lord Himself applied these to Himself, He would, according to you, be employing the faculty of conception; and it is blasphemous to think that He employed names which we too might have arrived at by conceiving of Him in these particular ways. Therefore, Conception is not the Source of the Divine Names; but rather they come from a perception or intention implanted in us directly from on High. Ungenerate is such a name; and it reveals to us the very substance of the Deity. But Gregory defends Basil's position. He shows the entire relativity of our knowledge of the Deity. Ungenerate and every other name of God is due to a conception; in each case we perceive either an operation of the Deity, or an element of evil, and then we conceive of Him as operating in the one, or as free from the other; and so name Him. But there is no conception, because there is no perception, of the substance of the Deity. Scripture, which has revealed His operations, has not revealed that. The human mind…feels after the unutterable Being in various and many-sided ways; and never chases the mystery in the light of one idea alone. Our grasping of Him would indeed be easy, if there lay before us one single assigned path to the knowledge of God; but, as it is, from the skill apparent in the Universe, we get the idea of skill in the Ruler of the Universe;…and again, when we see the execrable character of evil, we grasp His own unalterable pureness as regards this,…not that we split up the subject of such attributes along with them, but, believing that this Being, whatever it be in substance, is one, we still conceive that it has something in common with all these ideas.

To sum up, Eunomius found it convenient to try to disparage ̓ Επίνοια to the point of making it seem morally impossible that any name of God, but especially ̓ Αγέννητος, should come from such a source. He mocks the orthodox party for treating the privative terms for the Deity as merely privative, embodying only a notion, and for holding to the truth that God's name is above every name. He does not see how God can be above His works simply by virtue of things that do not belong to Him; this is only giving words priority over realities. He wants, and believes there exists, a word for the ousia of God, and he finds it in ̓ Αγέννητος, which according to him is not privative at all; it is the single name for the single Deity, and all the other names are contained within it. The universal Guardian thought it right to implant these names in our minds by a law of His creation. These utterances come from above. The importance of this word to the Anomœans is obvious. Gregory, as spokesman of the Nicene party, defends the capacity of the mental operation of conception to supply terms for the Deity, which, however, can none of them be final. God is incomprehensible. At the same time there is a spiritual insight of God (an ἔννοια in fact) which far surpasses Eunomius' intellectual certainty.

To sum up, it had suited Eunomius to try to disparage ̓ Επίνοια so far as to make it appear morally impossible that any name of God, but especially ̓ Αγέννητος, should be derived from such a source. He scoffs at the orthodox party for treating the privative terms for the Deity as merely privative, embodying only a notion, and for adhering to the truth that God's name is above every name. He does not see how God can be above His works simply by virtue of such things as do not belong to Him; this is only giving to words the prerogative over realities. He wants, and believes in the existence of, a word for the substance of God, and he finds it in ̓ Αγέννητος, which according to him is not privative at all; it is the single name for the single Deity, and all the others are bound up in it. The universal Guardian thought it right to engraft these names in our minds by a law of His creation. These utterances are from above. The importance of this word to the Anomœans is obvious. Gregory, as spokesman of the Nicene party, defends the efficacy of the mental operation of conception to supply terms for the Deity, which, however, can none of them be final. God is incomprehensible. At the same time there is a spiritual insight of God (an ἔ ννοια in fact) which far surpasses Eunomius' intellectual certainty (see note p. 256).

The first part of my arguments against Eunomius has, with God's help, been sufficiently established in the preceding work. Anyone who wishes can see from what I have written how his deception has been completely exposed in that earlier part, and his falsehood no longer has any power against the truth, except for those who show a very shameless hostility toward it. But since, like some robber's ambush, he has assembled a second work against orthodoxy, once again with God's help the truth takes up arms through me against the forces of her enemies. Truth commands my arguments like a general and directs them at her pleasure against the enemy. Following her lead, I shall boldly venture into the second part of my arguments, not at all intimidated by the display of falsehood, despite its parade of numerous arguments. For He who has promised that one shall chase a thousand and that two shall put ten thousand to flight is faithful, since victory in battle comes not from numbers but from righteousness. Just as the massive Goliath, when he brandished against the Israelites that enormous spear we read about, inspired no fear in his opponent—though he was a shepherd and unskilled in military tactics—but instead met him in combat and lost his own head in a complete reversal of his expectations, so our Goliath, the champion of this foreign system, extends his blasphemy against his opponents as though his hand were on a naked sword, and flashes his sophisms fresh from his whetstone. Yet he has failed to inspire any fear in us, though we are no soldiers, or to find himself free to boast about a lack of adversaries. On the contrary, he has found us to be warriors improvised from the Lord's sheepfold, untrained in logical warfare and considering it no disadvantage to be so, but simply hurling our plain, crude argument of truth against him. Now then, that shepherd in the biblical account, after he had struck down the foreigner with his sling and broken his helmet with the stone so that it split open from the force of the blow, did not limit his courage to gazing at his fallen enemy. Instead, he ran up to him, took his head, and returned bearing it as a trophy to his people, parading that boastful head through the ranks of his countrymen. Looking to this example, we too must advance without fear to the second part of our work, and as far as possible imitate David's courage. Like him, after the first blow we must plant our foot upon the fallen enemy, so that this enemy of the truth may be displayed as much as possible as a headless corpse. For separated as he is from the true faith, he is far more truly beheaded than that Philistine. Since Christ is the head of every man, as the Apostle says, and it is only reasonable that the believer alone should be called a man (for Christ, I assume, cannot be the head of the unbelieving as well), it follows that anyone who is severed from the saving faith must be headless like Goliath, being cut off from the true head by his own sword which he had sharpened against the truth. Our task will not be to cut off this head, but to show that it is already cut off.

The first part of my contentions against Eunomius has with God's help been sufficiently established in the preceding work, as all who will may see from what I have worked out, how in that former part his fallacy has been completely exposed, and its falsehood has no further force against the truth, except in the case of those who show a very shameless animus against her. But since, like some robber's ambuscade, he has got together a second work against orthodoxy, again with God's help the truth takes up arms through me against the array of her enemies, commanding my arguments like a general and directing them at her pleasure against the foe; following whose steps I shall boldly venture on the second part of my contentions, nothing daunted by the array of falsehood, notwithstanding its display of numerous arguments. For faithful is He who has promised that a thousand shall be chased by one, and that ten thousand shall be put to flight by two, victory in battle being due not to numbers, but to righteousness. For even as bulky Goliath, when he shook against the Israelites that ponderous spear we read of, inspired no fear in his opponent, though a shepherd and unskilled in the tactics of war, but having met him in fight loses his own head by a direct reversal of his expectations, so our Goliath, the champion of this alien system, stretching forth his blasphemy against his opponents as though his hand were on a naked sword, and flashing the while with sophisms fresh from his whetstone, has failed to inspire us, though no soldiers, with any fear of his prowess, or to find himself free to exult in the dearth of adversaries; on the contrary, he has found us warriors improvised from the Lord's sheepfold, untaught in logical warfare, and thinking it no detriment to be so, but simply slinging our plain, rude argument of truth against him. Since then, that shepherd who is in the record, when he had cast down the alien with his sling, and broken his helmet with the stone, so that it gaped under the violence of the blow, did not confine his valour to gazing on his fallen foe, but running in upon him, and depriving him of his head, returns bearing it as a trophy to his people, parading that braggart head through the host of his countrymen; looking to this example it becomes us also to advance nothing daunted to the second part of our labours, but as far as possible to imitate David's valour, and, like him, after the first blow to plant our foot upon the fallen foe, so that enemy of the truth may be exhibited as much as possible as a headless trunk. For separated as he is from the true faith he is far more truly beheaded than that Philistine. For since Christ is the head of every man, as says the Apostle 1 Corinthians 11:2, and it is only reasonable that the believer alone should be so termed (for Christ, I take it, cannot be the head of the unbelieving also), it follows that he who is severed from the saving faith must be headless like Goliath, being severed from the true head by his own sword which he had whetted against the truth; which head it shall be our task not to cut off, but to show that it is cut off.

Let no one think I'm engaging in this relentless and uncompromising battle with my opponent out of pride or desire for human praise. If I were permitted to live a peaceful life without bothering anyone, it would be completely contrary to my nature to needlessly disturb my own peace by voluntarily provoking and stirring up a war against myself. But now that God's city, the Church, is under siege, and the great wall of the faith is being shaken and battered by the surrounding siege engines of heresy, and there is serious risk that the word of the Lord will be swept into captivity through their demonic assault, I consider it a terrible thing to refuse to take part in the Christian struggle. I have not turned aside to rest, but have regarded the sweat of labor as more honorable than the relaxation of rest, knowing well that just as every man, as the Apostle says, shall receive his own reward according to his own labor, so naturally he shall receive punishment for neglecting his labor in proportion to his strength. Therefore I took on the first encounter in this debate with good courage, drawing from my shepherd's bag—that is, from the teaching of the Church—my natural and spontaneous arguments for the overthrow of this blasphemy, not needing at all the equipment of arguments from secular sources to qualify me for the contest. And now I don't hold back from the second part of the encounter either, fixing my hope like great David on Him who teaches my hands to war and my fingers to fight, hoping that the writer's hand may in my case also be guided by divine power to overthrow these heretical opinions, and my fingers may serve to overthrow their malicious array by directing my argument with skill and precision against the enemy. But just as in human battles those who excel in courage and strength, protected by their armor and having already acquired military skill through their training for facing danger, station themselves at the head of their column, encountering danger for those positioned behind them, while the rest of the company, though serving only to give an appearance of numbers, nevertheless seem, if only by their closely-packed shields, to contribute to the common good—so in our battles that noble soldier of Christ and fierce champion against the aliens, the mighty spiritual warrior Basil, equipped as he is with the whole armor described by the Apostle, protected by the shield of faith, and ever holding before him that weapon of defense, the sword of the spirit, fights at the front of the Lord's army by his elaborate argument against this heresy, alive and resisting and prevailing over the enemy, while we the common crowd, sheltering ourselves beneath the shield of that champion of the faith, will not hold back from any battles within the scope of our ability, as our captain may lead us on against the enemy. Since he, then, in his refutation of the false and untenable position maintained by this heresy, affirms that "ungenerate" cannot be predicated of God except as a mere notion or conception—which he has demonstrated with proofs supported by common sense and the evidence of Scripture—while Eunomius, the author of the heresy, neither agrees with his statements nor is able to overturn them, but in his struggle with the truth, the more clearly the light of true doctrine shines forth, the more, like nocturnal creatures, he shuns the light, and, no longer able to find the sophisticated hiding places he is accustomed to, he wanders about at random, and getting into the labyrinth of falsehood goes round and round in the same place—nearly all of his second treatise being taken up with this empty nonsense—it is therefore appropriate that our battle with those who oppose us should take place on the same ground where our champion has been our leader through his own treatise.

And let no one suppose that it is through pride or desire of human reputation that I go down to this truceless and implacable warfare to engage with the foe. For if it were allowed me to pass a peaceful life meddling with no one, it would be far enough from my disposition to wantonly disturb my tranquillity, by voluntarily provoking and stirring up a war against myself. But now that God's city, the Church, is besieged, and the great wall of the faith is shaken, battered by the encircling engines of heresy, and there is no small risk of the word of the Lord being swept into captivity through their devilish onslaught, deeming it a dreadful thing to decline taking part in the Christian conflict, I have not turned aside to repose, but have looked on the sweat of toil as more honourable than the relaxation of repose, knowing well that just as every man, as says the Apostle, shall receive his own reward 1 Corinthians 3:14 according to his own labour, so as a matter of course he shall receive punishment for neglect of labour proportioned to his strength. Accordingly I supported the first encounter in the discussion with good courage, discharging from my shepherd's scrip, i.e. from the teaching of the Church, my natural and unpremeditated arguments for the subversion of this blasphemy, needing not at all the equipment of arguments from profane sources to qualify me for the contest; and now also I do not hang back from the second part of the encounter, fixing my hope like great David on Him Who teaches my hands to war, and my fingers to fight, if haply the hand of the writer may in my case also be guided by Divine power to the overthrow of these heretical opinions, and my fingers may serve for the overthrow of their malignant array by directing my argument with skill and precision against the foe. But as in human conflicts those who excel in valour and might, secured by their armour and having previously acquired military skill by their training for facing danger, station themselves at the head of their column, encountering danger for those ranged behind them, while the rest of the company, though serving only to give an appearance of numbers, seem nevertheless, if only by their serried shields, to conduce to the common good, so in these our conflicts that noble soldier of Christ and vehement champion against the aliens, the mighty spiritual warrior Basil — equipped as he is with the whole armour described by the Apostle, and secured by the shield of faith, and ever holding before him that weapon of defense, the sword of the spirit — fights in the van of the Lord's host by his elaborated argument against this heresy, alive and resisting and prevailing over the foe, while we the common herd, sheltering ourselves beneath the shield of that champion of the faith, shall not hold back from any conflicts within the compass of our power, according as our captain may lead us on against the foe. As he, then, in his refutation of the false and untenable opinion maintained by this heresy, affirms that ungenerate cannot be predicated of God except as a mere notion or conception, whereof he has adduced proofs supported by common sense and the evidence of Scripture, while Eunomius, the author of the heresy, neither falls in with his statements nor is able to overturn them, but in his conflict with the truth, the more clearly the light of true doctrine shines forth, the more, like nocturnal creatures, does he shun the light, and, no longer able to find the sophistical hiding-places to which he is accustomed, he wanders about at random, and getting into the labyrinth of falsehood goes round and round in the same place, almost the whole of his second treatise being taken up with this empty trifling — it is well accordingly that our battle with those opposed to us should take place on the same ground whereon our champion by his own treatise has been our leader.

First of all, I think it's best to briefly review our own doctrinal beliefs and how our opponents disagree with them, so that our examination of these issues can proceed in an orderly way. Now the central point of Christian orthodoxy is to believe that the Only-begotten God, who is the truth and the true light, and the power of God and the life, is truly all that He is said to be—both in other ways and especially in this: that He is God and the truth, that is, God in truth, always being what He is understood to be and what He is called, who never at any time did not exist, nor will ever cease to exist, whose being, as it essentially is, is beyond the reach of any curious inquiry that would try to grasp it. But to us, as the word of Wisdom says, He makes Himself known through the greatness and beauty of His creatures in proportion to the things that are known, granting us the gift of faith through the works of His hands, but not the comprehension of what He is. While this is the belief held by all Christians—at least by those who are truly worthy of that name, those who have been taught by the law to worship nothing that is not truly God, and by that very act of worship confess that the Only-begotten is God in truth and not a God falsely so called—there arose this deadly plague upon the Church, bringing barrenness to the holy seeds of the faith, promoting the errors of Judaism and sharing to some extent in the impiety of the Greeks. For in its invention of a created God it promotes the error of the Greeks, and in not accepting the Son it supports that of the Jews. This school, which would destroy the very Godhead of the Lord and teach people to think of Him as a created being rather than as what the Father is in ousia and power and dignity, since these foggy ideas find no support when exposed on all sides to the light of truth, have ignored all those names supplied by Scripture for the glorification of God and applied equally to the Father and to the Son, and have turned instead to the word "ungenerate," a term they fabricated themselves to cast contempt on the greatness of the Only-begotten God. For while an orthodox confession teaches us to believe in the Only-begotten God so that all people should honor the Son just as they honor the Father, these people, rejecting the orthodox terms by which the greatness of the Son is expressed as equal with the dignity of the Father, draw from this the beginnings and foundations of their heresy regarding His Divinity. For since the Only-begotten God, as the voice of the Gospel teaches, came forth from the Father and is of Him, they misrepresent this doctrine by changing the terms and use them to tear the true faith to pieces. For while the truth teaches that the Father is from no pre-existing cause, these people have given to such a view the name of ungeneracy, and they designate the ousia of the Only-begotten from the Father by the term generation—then comparing the two terms "ungenerate" and "generate" as contradictories to each other, they use this opposition to mislead their senseless followers. To make this clearer with an illustration: the expressions "He was generated" and "He was not generated" are much the same as "He is seated" and "He is not seated," and all similar expressions. But they twist these expressions away from the natural meaning of the terms and are eager to impose another meaning on them with the goal of subverting orthodoxy. For while, as has been said, the words "is seated" and "is not seated" are not equivalent in meaning—one expression being contradictory of the other—they claim that this formal contradiction in expression indicates an essential difference, assigning generation to the Son and non-generation to the Father as their essential attributes. Yet just as it is impossible to regard a man's sitting or not sitting as the ousia of the man—for one would not use the same definition for a man's sitting as for the man himself—so, by the analogy of the above example, the non-generated ousia is in its inherent idea something wholly different from the thing expressed by not having been generated. But our opponents, with an eye toward their evil goal of establishing their denial of the Godhead of the Only-begotten, do not say that the ousia of the Father is ungenerate, but conversely, they declare ungeneracy to be His ousia, so that by this distinction regarding generation they may establish, through the verbal opposition, a diversity of natures. In the direction of impiety they look with ten thousand eyes, but regarding the unworkability of their own argument they are as incapable of vision as people who deliberately close their eyes. For who but someone whose mental vision is utterly blind can fail to see the loose and insubstantial character of the foundation of their doctrine, and that their argument in support of ungeneracy as an ousia has nothing to stand on? For this is the way their error would establish itself.

First of all, however, I think it advisable to run briefly over our own doctrinal views and our opponent's disagreement with them, so that our review of the propositions in question may proceed methodically. Now the main point of Christian orthodoxy is to believe that the Only-begotten God, Who is the truth and the true light, and the power of God and the life, is truly all that He is said to be, both in other respects and especially in this, that He is God and the truth, that is to say, God in truth, ever being what He is conceived to be and what He is called, Who never at any time was not, nor ever will cease to be, Whose being, such as it is essentially, is beyond the reach of the curiosity that would try to comprehend it. But to us, as says the word of Wisdom, He makes Himself known that He is by the greatness and beauty of His creatures proportionately to the things that are known, vouchsafing to us the gift of faith by the operations of His hands, but not the comprehension of what He is. Whereas, then, such is the opinion prevailing among all Christians, (such at least as are truly worthy of the appellation, those, I mean, who have been taught by the law to worship nothing that is not very God, and by that very act of worship confess that the Only-begotten is God in truth, and not a God falsely so called,) there arose this deadly blight of the Church, bringing barrenness on the holy seeds of the faith, advocating as it does the errors of Judaism, and partaking to a certain extent in the impiety of the Greeks. For in its figment of a created God it advocates the error of the Greeks, and in not accepting the Son it supports that of the Jews. This school, then, which would do away with the very Godhead of the Lord and teach men to conceive of Him as a created being, and not that which the Father is in essence and power and dignity, since these misty ideas find no support when exposed on all sides to the light of truth, have overlooked all those names supplied by Scripture for the glorification of God, and predicated in like manner of the Father and of the Son, and have betaken themselves to the word ungenerate, a term fabricated by themselves to throw contempt on the greatness of the Only-begotten God. For whereas an orthodox confession teaches us to believe in the Only-begotten God so that all men should honour the Son even as they honour the Father, these men, rejecting the orthodox terms whereby the greatness of the Son is signified as on a par with the dignity of the Father, draw from thence the beginnings and foundations of their heresy in regard to His Divinity. For as the Only-begotten God, as the voice of the Gospel teaches, came forth from the Father and is of Him, misrepresenting this doctrine by a change of terms, they make use of them to rend the true faith in pieces. For whereas the truth teaches that the Father is from no pre-existing cause, these men have given to such a view the name of ungeneracy, and signify the substance of the Only-begotten from the Father by the term generation, — then comparing the two terms ungenerate and generate as contradictories to each other, they make use of the opposition to mislead their senseless followers. For, to make the matter clearer by an illustration, the expressions, He was generated and He was not generated, are much the same as, He is seated and He is not seated, and all such-like expressions. But they, forcing these expressions away from the natural significance of the terms, are eager to put another meaning upon them with a view to the subversion of orthodoxy. For whereas, as has been said, the words is seated and is not seated are not equivalent in meaning (the one expression being contradictory of the other), they pretend that this formal contradiction in expression indicates an essential difference, ascribing generation to the Son and non-generation to the Father as their essential attributes. Yet, as it is impossible to regard a man's sitting down or not as the essence of the man (for one would not use the same definition for a man's sitting as for the man himself), so, by the analogy of the above example, the non-generated essence is in its inherent idea something wholly different from the thing expressed by not having been generated. But our opponents, with an eye to their evil object, that of establishing their denial of the Godhead of the Only-begotten, do not say that the essence of the Father is ungenerate, but, conversely, they declare ungeneracy to be His essence, in order that by this distinction in regard to generation they may establish, by the verbal opposition, a diversity of natures. In the direction of impiety they look with ten thousand eyes, but with regard to the impracticability of their own contention they are as incapable of vision as men who deliberately close their eyes. For who but one whose mental optics are utterly purblind can fail to discern the loose and unsubstantial character of the principle of their doctrine, and that their argument in support of ungeneracy as an essence has nothing to stand upon? For this is the way in which their error would establish itself.

I will do my best to respond to our opponents' argument. They claim that God is declared to be without generation, that the Godhead is by nature simple, and that what is simple permits no composition. Therefore, if God who is declared to be without generation is by His nature without composition, His title of Ungenerate must belong to His very nature, and that nature is identical with ungeneracy. We reply that the terms incomposite and ungenerate are not the same thing, because the former indicates the simplicity of the subject while the latter indicates its being without origin. These expressions are not interchangeable in meaning, even though both are predicated of one subject. From the name Ungenerate we have learned that the One who is so named is without origin, and from the name simple that He is free from all mixture or composition. These terms cannot be substituted for each other. Therefore it is not necessary that, because the Godhead is by its nature simple, that nature should be called ungeneracy. Rather, insofar as He is indivisible and without composition, He is called simple, while insofar as He was not generated, He is called ungenerate.

But to the best of my ability I will raise my voice to rebut our enemies' argument. They say that God is declared to be without generation, that the Godhead is by nature simple, and that which is simple admits of no composition. If, then, God Who is declared to be without generation is by His nature without composition, His title of Ungenerate must belong to His very nature, and that nature is identical with ungeneracy. To whom we reply that the terms incomposite and ungenerate are not the same thing, for the former represents the simplicity of the subject, the other its being without origin, and these expressions are not convertible in meaning, though both are predicated of one subject. But from the appellation of Ungenerate we have been taught that He Who is so named is without origin, and from the appellation of simple that He is free from all admixture (or composition), and these terms cannot be substituted for each other. There is therefore no necessity that, because the Godhead is by its nature simple, that nature should be termed ungeneracy; but in that He is indivisible and without composition, He is spoken of as simple, while in that He was not generated, He is spoken of as ungenerate.

Now if the term ungenerate did not signify being without origin, but the idea of simplicity were part of what the term means, and if God were called ungenerate in their heretical sense merely because He is simple and incomposite, and if the terms simple and ungenerate mean the same thing, then the simplicity of the Son would also be equivalent to ungeneracy. For they will not deny that God the Only-begotten is by His physis simple, unless they are prepared to deny that He is God. Therefore the term simplicity would have no such connection in its meaning with being ungenerate that His physis should be called ungeneracy because of its incomposite character. Otherwise they bring on themselves one of two absurd alternatives: either denying the Godhead of the Only-begotten, or attributing ungeneracy to Him as well. For if God is simple, and the term simplicity is, according to them, identical with ungenerate, they must either claim the Son is of composite nature, which would imply that He is not God, or if they allow His Godhead, and God (as I have said) is simple, then they make Him out to be ungenerate at the same time, if the terms simple and ungenerate are convertible. To make my meaning clearer I will recapitulate. We affirm that each of these terms has its own distinct meaning, and that the term indivisible cannot be rendered by ungenerate, nor ungenerate by simple. Rather, by simple we understand uncompounded, and by ungenerate we are taught to understand what is without origin. Furthermore, we hold that we are bound to believe that the Son of God, being Himself God, is Himself also simple, because God is free from all compositeness. Similarly, when we speak of Him by the name of Son, we neither denote simplicity of substance, nor in simplicity do we include the notion of Son. Rather, the term Son indicates that He is of the substance of the Father, and the term simple means what the word plainly indicates. Since, then, the meaning of the term simple in regard to essence is one and the same whether spoken of the Father or of the Son, differing in no degree, while there is a wide difference between generate and ungenerate (the one containing a notion not contained in the other), for this reason we assert that there is no necessity that, the Father being ungenerate, His essence should be defined by the term ungenerate simply because that essence is simple. For neither do we say of the Son, who is simple and whom we also believe to be generated, that His essence is simplicity. But just as the essence is simple and not simplicity, so also the essence is ungenerate and not ungeneracy. Likewise, the Son being generated, our reason is freed from any necessity to define His essence as generateness just because His essence is simple. Here again each expression has its own distinct force. For the term generated suggests to you a source from which He comes, and the term simple implies freedom from composition. But this does not satisfy them. For they maintain that since the essence of the Father is simple, it cannot be considered as other than ungeneracy, and on this account He is said to be ungenerate. In answer to them we may also observe that, since they call the Father both Creator and Maker, whereas He who is so called is simple in regard to His essence, it is high time for such sophists to declare the essence of the Father to be creation and making, since their argument about simplicity introduces into His essence any signification of any name we give Him. Either, then, let them separate ungeneracy from the definition of the Divine essence, allowing the term no more than its proper signification, or, if by reason of the simplicity of the subject they define His essence by the term ungeneracy, by the same reasoning let them likewise see creation and making in the essence of the Father—not as though the power residing in the essence created and made, but as though the power itself meant creation and making. But if they reject this as bad and absurd, let them be persuaded by what logically follows to reject the other proposition as well. For just as the essence of the builder is not the thing built, neither is ungeneracy the essence of the Ungenerate. But for the sake of clarity and conciseness I will restate my arguments. If the Father is called ungenerate, not because He has never been generated, but because His essence is simple and incomposite, then by the same reasoning the Son must also be called ungenerate, for He too is a simple and incomposite essence. But if we are compelled to confess the Son to be generated because He was generated, it is clear that we must address the Father as ungenerate because He was not generated. But if we are compelled to this conclusion by truth and the force of our premises, it is clear that the term ungenerate is no part of the essence, but indicates a difference in our ways of understanding, distinguishing that which is generated from that which is ungenerate. But let us discuss this point also in addition to what I have said. If they affirm that the term ungenerate signifies the essence of the Father, and not that He has His substance without origin, what term will they use to denote the Father's being without origin, when they have set aside the term ungenerate to indicate His essence? For if we are not taught the distinguishing difference of the Persons by the term ungenerate, but are to regard it as indicating His very nature as flowing in a manner from the subject matter and disclosing what we seek in articulate syllables, it must follow that God either is not, or is not to be called, ungenerate, there being no word left to express such distinct significance in regard to Him. For since according to them the term ungenerate does not mean without origin, but indicates the Divine nature, their argument will be found to exclude it altogether, and the term ungenerate slips out of their teaching in respect to God. For there being no other word or term to represent that the Father is ungenerate, and that term signifying, according to their fallacious argument, something else and not that He was not generated, their whole argument falls and collapses into Sabellianism. For by this reasoning we must hold the Father to be identical with the Son, the distinction between generated and ungenerate having been removed from their teaching, so that they are driven to one of two alternatives: either they must again adopt the view of the term as denoting a difference in the attributes proper to each Person and not as denoting the nature, or, abiding by their conclusions about the word, they must side with Sabellius. For it is impossible that the difference of the persons should be maintained without confusion, unless there is a distinction between generated and ungenerate. Therefore if the term denotes difference, essence will in no way be denoted by this name. For the definitions of difference and essence are by no means the same. But if they divert the meaning of the word so as to signify nature, they must be drawn into the heresy of those who are called Son-Fathers, all accuracy of definition in regard to the Persons being rejected from their account. But if they say that there is nothing to prevent the distinction between generated and ungenerate from being rendered by the term ungenerate, and that this term also represents the essence, let them distinguish for us the related meanings of the word, so that the notion of ungenerate may properly apply to either of them taken by itself. For the expression of the difference by means of this term involves no ambiguity, consisting as it does of a verbal contrast. For as an equivalent to saying the Son has, and the Father has not, been generated, we too agree with the statement that the latter is ungenerate and the former generated, by a sort of verbal correlation. But how a clear manifestation of essence can be made by this name, this they are unable to say. But keeping silent on this matter, our novel theologian weaves us a web of trifling subtleties in his earlier treatise. Because God, he says, being simple, is called ungenerate, therefore God is ungeneracy. What does the notion of simplicity have to do with the idea of ungenerate? For not only is the Only-begotten generated, but without controversy He is also simple. But, he says, He is also without parts and incomposite. But what does this have to do with the point? For neither is the Son multiform and composite, and yet He is not on that account ungenerate.

Now if the term ungenerate did not signify the being without origin, but the idea of simplicity entered into the meaning of such a term, and He were called ungenerate in their heretical sense, merely because He is simple and incomposite, and if the terms simple and ungenerate are the same in meaning, then too must the simplicity of the Son be equivalent with ungeneracy. For they will not deny that God the Only-begotten is by His nature simple, unless they are prepared to deny that He is God. Accordingly the term simplicity will in its meaning have no such connection with being ungenerate as that, by reason of its incomposite character, His nature should be termed ungeneracy; or they draw upon themselves one of two absurd alternatives, either denying the Godhead of the Only-begotten, or attributing ungeneracy to Him also. For if God is simple, and the term simplicity is, according to them, identical with ungenerate, they must either make out the Son to be of composite nature, by which term it is implied that neither is He God, or if they allow His Godhead, and God (as I have said) is simple, then they make Him out at the same time to be ungenerate, if the terms simple and ungenerate are convertible. But to make my meaning clearer I will recapitulate. We affirm that each of these terms has its own peculiar meaning, and that the term indivisible cannot be rendered by ungenerate, nor ungenerate by simple; but by simple we understand uncompounded, and by ungenerate we are taught to understand what is without origin. Furthermore we hold that we are bound to believe that the Son of God, being Himself God, is Himself also simple, because God is free from all compositeness; and in like manner in speaking of Him also by the appellation of Son we neither denote simplicity of substance, nor in simplicity do we include the notion of Son, but the term Son we hold to indicate that He is of the substance of the Father, and the term simple we hold to mean what the word bears upon its face. Since, then, the meaning of the term simple in regard to essence is one and the same whether spoken of the Father or of the Son, differing in no degree, while there is a wide difference between generate and ungenerate (the one containing a notion not contained in the other), for this reason we assert that there is no necessity that, the Father being ungenerate, His essence should, because that essence is simple, be defined by the term ungenerate. For neither of the Son, Who is simple, and Whom also we believe to be generated, do we say that His essence is simplicity. But as the essence is simple and not simplicity, so also the essence is ungenerate and not ungeneracy. In like manner also the Son being generated, our reason is freed from any necessity that, because His essence is simple, we should define that essence as generateness; but here again each expression has its peculiar force. For the term generated suggests to you a source whence, and the term simple implies freedom from composition. But this does not approve itself to them. For they maintain that since the essence of the Father is simple, it cannot be considered as other than ungeneracy; on which account also He is said to be ungenerate. In answer to whom we may also observe that, since they call the Father both Creator and Maker, whereas He Who is so called is simple in regard to His essence, it is high time for such sophists to declare the essence of the Father to be creation and making, since the argument about simplicity introduces into His essence any signification of any name we give Him. Either, then, let them separate ungeneracy from the definition of the Divine essence, allowing the term no more than its proper signification, or, if by reason of the simplicity of the subject they define His essence by the term ungeneracy, by a parity of reasoning let them likewise see creation and making in the essence of the Father, not as though the power residing in the essence created and made, but as though the power itself meant creation and making. But if they reject this as bad and absurd, let them be persuaded by what logically follows to reject the other proposition as well. For as the essence of the builder is not the thing built, no more is ungeneracy the essence of the Ungenerate. But for the sake of clearness and conciseness I will restate my arguments. If the Father is called ungenerate, not by reason of His having never been generated, but because His essence is simple and incomposite, by a parity of reasoning the Son also must be called ungenerate, for He too is a simple and incomposite essence. But if we are compelled to confess the Son to be generated because He was generated, it is manifest that we must address the Father as ungenerate, because He was not generated. But if we are compelled to this conclusion by truth and the force of our premises, it is clear that the term ungenerate is no part of the essence, but is indicative of a difference of conceptions, distinguishing that which is generated from that which is ungenerate. But let us discuss this point also in addition to what I have said. If they affirm that the term ungenerate signifies the essence (of the Father), and not that He has His substance without origin, what term will they use to denote the Father's being without origin, when they have set aside the term ungenerate to indicate His essence? For if we are not taught the distinguishing difference of the Persons by the term ungenerate, but are to regard it as indicating His very nature as flowing in a manner from the subject-matter, and disclosing what we seek in articulate syllables, it must follow that God is not, or is not to be called, ungenerate, there being no word left to express such peculiar significance in regard to Him. For inasmuch as according to them the term ungenerate does not mean without origin, but indicates the Divine nature, their argument will be found to exclude it altogether, and the term ungenerate slips out of their teaching in respect to God. For there being no other word or term to represent that the Father is ungenerate, and that term signifying, according to their fallacious argument, something else, and not that He was not generated, their whole argument falls and collapses into Sabellianism. For by this reasoning we must hold the Father to be identical with the Son, the distinction between generated and ungenerate having been got rid of from their teaching, so that they are driven to one of two alternatives: either they must again adopt the view of the term as denoting a difference in the attributes proper to either Person, and not as denoting the nature, or, abiding by their conclusions as to the word, they must side with Sabellius. For it is impossible that the difference of the persons should be without confusion, unless there be a distinction between generated and ungenerate. Accordingly if the term denotes difference, essence will in no way be denoted by the appellation. For the definitions of difference and essence are by no means the same. But if they divert the meaning of the word so as to signify nature, they must be drawn into the heresy of those who are called Son-Fathers, all accuracy of definition in regard to the Persons being rejected from their account. But if they say that there is nothing to hinder the distinction between generated and ungenerate from being rendered by the term ungenerate, and that term represents the essence too, let them distinguish for us the kindred meanings of the word, so that the notion of ungenerate may properly apply to either of them taken by itself. For the expression of the difference by means of this term involves no ambiguity, consisting as it does of a verbal opposition. For as an equivalent to saying The Son has, and the Father has not, been generated, we too assent to the statement that the latter is ungenerate and the former generated, by a sort of verbal correlation. But from what point of view a clear manifestation of essence can be made by this appellation, this they are unable to say. But keeping silence on this head, our novel theologian weaves us a web of trifling subtleties in his former treatise. Because God, says he, being simple, is called ungenerate, therefore God is ungeneracy. What has the notion of simplicity to do with the idea of ungenerate? For not only is the Only-begotten generated, but, without controversy, He is simple also. But, says he, He is without parts also, and incomposite. But what is this to the point? For neither is the Son multiform and composite: and yet He is not on that account ungenerate.

But, he says, He is without both quantity and magnitude. Agreed—for the Son also is unlimited by quantity and magnitude, and yet He is the Son. But this is not the point. The task before us is this: in what sense of "ungenerate" is ousia declared? For just as this word marks the difference of properties, so they maintain that the ousia also is indicated without ambiguity by one of the things signified by this term.

But, says he, He is without both quantity and magnitude. Granted: for the Son also is unlimited by quantity and magnitude, and yet is He the Son. But this is not the point. For the task set before us is this: in what signification of ungenerate is essence declared? For as this word marks the difference of the properties, so they maintain that the essence also is indicated without ambiguity by one of the things signified by the appellation.

But Eunomius leaves this matter unaddressed and merely says that ungeneracy should not be predicated of God as a mere conception. For what is spoken in this way, he claims, is dissolved and passes away with its utterance. But what utterance exists that is not dissolved in this way? We do not preserve undissolved, like those who make pots or bricks, what we speak with our voice in the mold of speech that we form once and for all with our lips. Rather, as soon as one utterance has been sent forth by our voice, what we have said ceases to exist. For when the breath of our voice is dispersed again into the air, no trace of our words is impressed upon the place where this dispersion of our voice has occurred. So if he makes this the distinguishing characteristic of a term that expresses a mere conception—that it does not remain but vanishes with the voice that utters it—he might as well call every term a mere conception, since no substance remains in any term after its utterance. Nor will he be able to show that ungeneracy itself, which he exempts from the products of conception, is indissoluble and fixed when it has been uttered, for this vocal expression through the lips does not remain in the air. From this we may see the insubstantial character of his assertions, because even if we describe our mental conceptions in writing without speech, it is not as though the substantial objects of our thoughts will acquire their significance from the letters while the non-substantial will have no part in what the letters express. For whatever enters our mind, whether intellectually existing or otherwise, we can store away in writing at our discretion. Voice and letters have equal value for expressing thought, since we communicate what we think by the latter just as by the former. What justification he sees, then, for making the mental conception perish with the voice alone, I cannot comprehend. For in the case of all speech uttered by means of sound, the passage of breath that conveys the voice returns to its kindred element, but the sense of the spoken words is engraved by hearing on the memory of the hearer's soul, whether it be true or false. Is this not, then, a weak interpretation of his conception that our writer offers, when he characterizes and defines it by the dissolution of the voice? For this reason the understanding hearer, as Isaiah says, objects to this inconceivable account of mental conception, showing it—to use the man's own words—to be a truly dissoluble and insubstantial one, and he discusses scientifically the force inherent in the term, advancing his argument by familiar examples to the contemplation of doctrine. Against him Eunomius, exalting himself with this pompous writing, attempts to overthrow the true account of mental conception in this manner.

But this thing he leaves untold, and only says that ungeneracy should not be predicated of God as a mere conception. For what is so spoken, says he, is dissolved, and passes away with its utterance. But what is there that is uttered but is so dissolved? For we do not keep undissolved, like those who make pots or bricks, what we utter with our voice in the mould of the speech which we form once for all with our lips, but as soon as one speech has been sent forth by our voice, what we have said ceases to exist. For the breath of our voice being dispersed again into the air, no trace of our words is impressed upon the spot in which such dispersion of our voice has taken place: so that if he makes this the distinguishing characteristic of a term that expresses a mere conception, that it does not remain, but vanishes with the voice that gives it utterance, he may as well at once call every term a mere conception, inasmuch as no substance remains in any term subsequent to its utterance. No, nor will he be able to show that ungeneracy itself, which he excepts from the products of conception, is indissoluble and fixed when it has been uttered, for this expression of the voice through the lips does not abide in the air. And from this we may see the unsubstantial character of his assertions; because, even if without speech we describe in writing our mental conceptions, it is not as though the substantial objects of our thoughts will acquire their significance from the letters, while the non-substantial will have no part in what the letters express. For whatever comes into our mind, whether intellectually existing, or otherwise, it is possible for us at our discretion to store away in writing. And the voice and letters are of equal value for the expression of thought, for we communicate what we think by the latter as well as by the former. What he sees, then, to justify his making the mental conception perish with the voice only, I fail to comprehend. For in the case of all speech uttered by means of sound, the passage of the breath indeed which conveys the voice is towards its kindred element, but the sense of the words spoken is engraved by hearing on the memory of the hearer's soul, whether it be true or false. Is not this, then, a weak interpretation of this conception of his that our writer offers, when he characterizes and defines it by the dissolution of the voice? And for this reason the understanding hearer, as says Isaiah, objects to this inconceivable account of mental conception, showing it, to use the man's own words, to be a veritably dissoluble and unsubstantial one, and he discusses scientifically the force inherent in the term, advancing his argument by familiar examples to the contemplation of doctrine. Against whom Eunomius exalting himself with this pompous writing, endeavours to overthrow the true account of mental conception, after this manner.

But before we examine what he has written, it may be better to ask what his purpose is in refusing to admit that "ungenerate" can be predicated of God by way of conception. Now the teaching that has been held in common by all who have received the word of our religion is that all hope of salvation should be placed in Christ, since it is impossible for anyone to be found among the righteous unless faith in Christ supplies what is needed. And since this conviction is firmly established in the souls of the faithful, and all honor and glory and worship are due to the Only-begotten God as the Author of life, who does the works of the Father, as the Lord himself says in the Gospel, and who falls short of no excellence in all knowledge of what is good, I do not know how they have been so perverted by malice and jealousy of the Lord's honor that, as though they judged the worship paid by the faithful to the Only-begotten God to be harmful to themselves, they oppose his divine honors and try to persuade us that nothing said of him is true. For according to them, he is not truly God, though Scripture apparently calls him so, nor, though called Son, does he have a physis that makes good the title, nor does he share in dignity or physis with the Father. For, they say, it is not possible for the one who is begotten to be of equal honor with the one who made him, either in dignity, or in power, or in physis, because the latter's life is infinite and his existence is from eternity, while the Son's life is in a way circumscribed, with the beginning of his being begotten limiting his life at the start and preventing it from being coextensive with the Father's eternity, so that his life also is to be regarded as defective. And the Father was not always what he now is and is said to be, but, having been something else before, he afterwards determined that he would be a Father, or rather that he would be so called. For he was not rightly called Father even of the Son, but of a creature falsely given the title of son. And in every way, they say, the younger is necessarily inferior to the elder, the finite to the eternal, and what is begotten by the will of the begetter is inferior to the begetter himself in power, dignity, physis, precedence due to age, and all other privileges of respect. But how can we justly honor with the honors due to the true God that which lacks the perfection of the more divine attributes? Thus they would establish the doctrine that one who is limited in power, lacking in the perfection of life, subject to a superior, and doing nothing by himself except what is authorized by the more powerful, is worthy of no divine honor and consideration, but that while we call him God, we are using a term empty of all grandeur in its meaning. And since such statements as these, when stripped of their plausible disguise, provoke indignation and make the hearer shudder at their strangeness (for who can tolerate an evil counselor openly and recklessly urging the overthrow of Christ's majesty?), they therefore try to corrupt foolish hearers with these foreign ideas by wrapping their malicious and deceptive arguments in many seductive fallacies. For after laying down such premises as would naturally lead the hearers' minds in the desired direction, they leave the hearer to draw his own conclusion.

But before we examine what he has written, it may be better to enquire with what purpose it is that he refuses to admit that ungenerate can be predicated of God by way of conception. Now the tenet which has been held in common by all who have received the word of our religion is, that all hope of salvation should be placed in Christ, it being impossible for any to be found among the righteous, unless faith in Christ supply what is desired. And this conviction being firmly established in the souls of the faithful, and all honour and glory and worship being due to the Only-begotten God as the Author of life, Who does the works of the Father, as the Lord Himself says in the Gospel, and Who falls short of no excellence in all knowledge of that which is good, I know not how they have been so perverted by malignity and jealousy of the Lord's honour, that, as though they judged the worship paid by the faithful to the Only-begotten God to be a detriment to themselves, they oppose His Divine honours, and try to persuade us that nothing that is said of them is true. For with them neither is He very God, though called so, it would seem, by Scripture, nor, though called Son, has He a nature that makes good the appellation, nor has He a community of dignity or of nature with the Father. For, say they, it is not possible for Him that is begotten to be of equal honour with Him Who made Him, either in dignity, or in power, or in nature, because the life of the latter is infinite, and His existence from eternity, while the life of the Son is in a manner circumscribed, the beginning of His being begotten limiting His life at the commencement, and preventing it from being coextensive with the eternity of the Father, so that His life also is to be regarded as defective; and the Father was not always what He now is and is said to be, but, having been something else before, He afterwards determined that He would be a Father, or rather that He would be so called. For not even of the Son was He rightly called Father, but of a creature supposititiously invested with the title of son. And every way, say they, the younger is of necessity inferior to the elder, the finite to the eternal, that which is begotten by the will of the begetter, to the begetter himself, both in power, and dignity, and nature, and precedence due to age, and all other prerogatives of respect. But how can we justly dignify with the honours due to the true God that which is wanting in the perfection of the diviner attributes? Thus they would establish the doctrine that one who is limited in power, and wanting in the perfection of life, and subject to a superior, and doing nothing of himself but what is sanctioned by the authority of the more powerful, is in no divine honour and consideration, but that, while we call him God, we are employing a term empty of all grandeur in its significance. And since such statements as these, when stripped of their plausible dress, move indignation and make the hearer shudder at their strangeness (for who can tolerate an evil counsellor nakedly and unadvisably urging the overthrow of the majesty of Christ?), they therefore try to pervert foolish hearers with these foreign notions by enveloping their malignant and insidious arguments in a number of seductive fallacies. For after laying down such premises as might naturally lead the mind of the hearers in the desired direction, they leave the hearer to draw his conclusion for himself.

After saying that the Only-begotten God is not the same in ousia with the true Father, and after using sophisticated arguments to infer this from the opposition between generate and ungenerate, they work silently toward their conclusion, their impiety advancing through the natural course of logical inference. Just as a poisoner makes his drug acceptable to his victim by sweetening its deadliness with honey—he merely has to offer it, while the drug works its way into the vital organs without any further action from the poisoner and does its deadly work—so our opponents act in the same way. By coating their destructive teaching with sophisticated arguments, as if with honey, once they have planted in the hearer's mind the poisonous falsehood that God the Only-begotten is not truly God, they let everything else be inferred without saying another word. When people are convinced that He is not truly God, it naturally follows that no other divine attribute truly applies either. If He is truly neither Son nor God, except by misuse of terms, then the other names given to Him in Holy Scripture are departures from the truth. One thing cannot be truly predicated of Him while the other is false; they must follow from one another, so that if He is truly God, it follows that He is Judge and King, and His various attributes are as they are described. But if His godhead is falsely asserted, then the truth does not hold for any of His other attributes either. Once they have deceived people into believing that the attribute of Godhead is falsely applied to the Only-begotten, it follows that He is not rightly the object of worship and adoration, or in fact of any of the honors paid to God. So to make their attack on the Savior effective, this is the blasphemous method they have adopted. They argue there is no need to look at the complete set of attributes by which the Son's equality in honor and dignity with the Father is shown; instead, from the opposition between generate and ungenerate we must argue for a distinctive difference of physis, for the divine physis is what is denoted by the term ungenerate. Furthermore, since all sensible people regard it as impossible to describe the ineffable Being by any use of words—because our knowledge does not extend to comprehending what transcends knowledge, nor does our use of words have such power as to fully express our thoughts when the mind is focused on anything supremely lofty and divine—these supposedly wise people, on the contrary, convict everyone else of senselessness and ignorance of logic, assert their own knowledge of such matters, and claim their ability to teach it to whomever they wish. Accordingly, they maintain that the divine physis is simply ungeneracy itself, and declaring this to be sovereign and supreme, they make this word encompass the whole greatness of Godhead, thus necessitating the inference that if ungeneracy is the main element of the essence, and the other divine attributes are connected with it—namely Godhead, power, imperishableness and so on—if ungeneracy means these things, then if this ungeneracy cannot be predicated of something, neither can the rest. Just as reason, the capacity to laugh, and the capacity for knowledge are proper to man, and what is not humanity cannot be classified among the properties of his physis, so if true Godhead consists in ungeneracy, then whatever thing the latter name does not properly belong to will not have any of the other distinguishing attributes of Godhead in it. If, then, ungeneracy is not predicable of the Son, it follows that none of His sublime and godlike attributes are properly ascribed to Him. This, then, is what they define as a correct understanding of the divine mysteries—the rejection of the Son's Godhead—practically shouting in the ears of those who would listen to them: You are granted perfection in knowledge if only you do not believe in God the Only-begotten as being truly God, and do not honor the Son as the Father is honored, but regard Him as by physis a created being, not Lord and Master, but slave and subject. This is the aim and purpose of their plan, though the blasphemy is concealed in different terms.

For after saying that the Only-begotten God is not the same in essence with the true Father, and after sophistically inferring this from the opposition between generate and ungenerate, they work in silence to the conclusion, their impiety prevailing by the natural course of inference. And as the poisoner makes his drug acceptable to his victim by sweetening its deadliness with honey, and, as for himself, has only to offer it, while the drug insinuating itself into the vitals without further action on the part of the poisoner does its deadly work — so, too, do our opponents act. For qualifying their pernicious teaching with their sophistical refinements, as with honey, when they have infused into the mind of the hearer the venomous fallacy that God the Only-begotten is not very God, they cause all the rest to be inferred without saying a word. For when they are persuaded that He is not truly God, it follows as a matter of course that no other Divine attribute is truly applicable. For if He is truly neither Son nor God, except by an abuse of terms, then the other names which are given to Him in Holy Scripture are a divergence from the truth. For the one thing cannot be predicated of Him with truth, and the other be destitute of it; but they must needs follow one another, so that, if He be truly God, it follows that He is Judge and King, and that His several attributes are such as they are described, while, if His godhead be falsely asserted, neither will the truth hold respecting any of His other attributes. They, then, having been deceived into the persuasion that the attribute of Godhead is falsely applied to the Only-begotten, it follows that He is not rightly the object of worship and adoration, or, in fact, of any of the honours that are paid to God. In order, then, to render their attack upon the Saviour efficacious, this is the blasphemous method that they have adopted. There is no need, they urge, of looking at the collective attributes by which the Son's equality in honour and dignity with the Father is signified, but from the opposition between generate and ungenerate we must argue a distinctive difference of nature; for the Divine nature is that which is denoted by the term ungenerate. Again, since all men of sense regard it as impracticable to indicate the ineffable Being by any force of words, because neither does our knowledge extend to the comprehension of what transcends knowledge, nor does the ministry of words have such power in us as to avail for the full enunciation of our thought, where the mind is engaged on anything eminently lofty and divine, — these wise folk, on the contrary, convicting men in general of want of sense and ignorance of logic, assert their own knowledge of such matters, and their ability to impart it to whomsoever they will; and accordingly they maintain that the divine nature is simply ungeneracy per se, and declaring this to be sovereign and supreme, they make this word comprehend the whole greatness of Godhead, so as to necessitate the inference that if ungeneracy is the main point of the essence, and the other divine attributes are bound up with it, viz. Godhead, power, imperishableness and so on — if (I say) ungeneracy mean these, then, if this ungeneracy cannot be predicated of something, neither can the rest. For as reason, and risibility, and capacity of knowledge are proper to man, and what is not humanity may not be classed among the properties of his nature, so, if true Godhead consists in ungeneracy, then, to whatsoever thing the latter name does not properly belong, no one at all of the other distinguishing attributes of Godhead will be found in it. If, then, ungeneracy is not predicable of the Son, it follows that no other of His sublime and godlike attributes are properly ascribed to Him. This, then, they define as a right comprehension of the divine mysteries — the rejection of the Son's Godhead — all but shouting in the ear of those who would listen to them; To you it is given to be perfect in knowledge, if only you believe not in God the Only-begotten as being very God, and honour not the Son as the Father is honoured, but regard Him as by nature a created being, not Lord and Master, but slave and subject. For this is the aim and object of their design, though the blasphemy is cloaked in different terms.

Therefore, wrapping up his earlier false reasoning in the twisting turns of his sophisticated arguments, and craftily manipulating the term ungenerate, he deceives the understanding of those he tricks, saying to them: "Well then, if it is not so by way of conception, nor by deprivation, nor by division (since He is without parts), nor as being another in Himself (since He is the one and only ungenerate), then He Himself must be, in ousia, ungenerate."

Accordingly, enveloping his former special-pleading in the mazy evolutions of his sophistries, and dealing subtly with the term ungenerate, he steals away the intelligence of his dupes, saying to them, "Well, then, if neither by way of conception it is so, nor by deprivation, nor by division (for He is without parts), nor as being another in Himself (for He is the one only ungenerate), He Himself must be, in essence, ungenerate.

Seeing, then, the harm that results to those deceived by this fallacious reasoning—namely, that to deny He is truly God means departing from our confession of Him as our Lord, which is indeed where his words lead his teaching—our master does not deny that "ungenerate" is not a partial predicate of God, himself also admitting that God is without quantity, magnitude, or parts. But he challenges the statement that this term should not be applied to God by way of mental conception, and he provides his proofs. However, shifting from this position again, our writer in the second of his treatises confronts us with his sophistry, arguing against his own statements regarding mental conception.

Seeing, then, the mischief resulting to the dupes of this fallacious reasoning — that to assent to His not being very God is a departure from our confession of Him as our Lord, to which conclusion indeed his words would bring his teaching — our master does not indeed deny that ungenerate is no partial predicate of God, himself also admitting that God is without quantity, or magnitude, or parts; but the statement that this term ought not to be applied to Him by way of mental conception he impugns, and gives his proofs. But again, shifting from this position, our writer in the second of his treatises meets us with his sophistry, combating his own statements in regard to mental conception.

Human nature has no capacity sufficient for fully comprehending the divine essence. It may be easy to demonstrate this in the case of human ability alone, and to say that the incorporeal creation is incapable of grasping and comprehending that nature which is infinite would not be far from the truth, as we can see from familiar examples. There are many and various things that have fleshly life—winged creatures and earthly ones, some that rise above the clouds by their wings, others that live in hollows or burrow underground. Comparing these, it appears there is no small difference between the inhabitants of air and land. But if the comparison is extended to the stars and the fixed heavens, it becomes clear that what soars on wings is not less removed from heaven than from the animals on earth. In the same way, the strength of angels compared with our own seems extraordinarily great because, undisturbed by sensation, it pursues lofty themes with pure, unclothed intelligence. Yet if we measure even their comprehension against the majesty of Him Who truly is, perhaps if someone dared to say that even their power of understanding is not far superior to our own weakness, his guess would fall within the bounds of probability. Wide and insurmountable is the interval that divides and separates uncreated from created nature. The latter is limited, the former is not. The latter is confined within its own boundaries according to the pleasure of its Maker. The former is bounded only by infinity. The latter extends itself within certain degrees of extension, limited by time and space; the former transcends all notion of degree, baffling investigation from every angle. In this life we can grasp the beginning and end of all things that exist, but the blessedness that is above the creature admits neither end nor beginning. It is above all that either term signifies, being always the same, self-dependent, not progressing by degrees from one point to another in its life. For there is no participation of other life in its life such that we might infer end and beginning. Whatever it is, it is life energizing in itself, not becoming greater or less by addition or diminution. Increase has no place in the infinite, and that which is by its nature without passions excludes all notion of decrease. When we look up to heaven and partially grasp through our eyes the beauty in the heights, we do not doubt the existence of what we see. But if asked what it is, we cannot define its nature. We simply marvel as we contemplate the overarching vault, the reverse planetary motion, the so-called Zodiac engraved obliquely on the pole (whereby astronomers observe the motion of bodies revolving in the opposite direction), the differences of luminaries according to their magnitude and the distinctive qualities of their rays, their risings and settings that occur according to the circling year always at the same seasons unfailingly, the conjunctions of planets, the courses of those that pass below, the eclipses of those that are above, the shadowings by the earth, the reappearance of eclipsed bodies, the moon's many-formed changes, the motion of the sun midway within the poles, and how—filled with his own light, crowned with his encircling beams, and embracing all things in his sovereign light—he himself also at times suffers eclipse (the disc of the moon, as they say, passing before him), and how, by the will of Him Who has so ordained it, always running his own particular course, he completes his appointed orbit and progress, opening out the four seasons of the year in succession. When we contemplate these phenomena with the aid of sight, we have no doubt of their existence, though we are as far from comprehending their essential nature as if sight had given us no glimpse whatever of what we have seen. Similarly, regarding the Creator of the world, we know that He exists, but we cannot deny that we are ignorant of His essential nature. But since they boast that they know these things, let them first tell us about things of inferior nature—what they think of the body of the heavens, of the machinery that conveys the stars in their eternal courses, or of the sphere in which they move. However far speculation may proceed, when it reaches the uncertain and incomprehensible it must stop. For even if someone says that another body, similar in form to that body of the heavens and fitting its circular shape, checks its velocity so that, always turning in its course, it revolves in conformity to that other body upon itself, being kept by the force that embraces it from flying off at a tangent—yet how can he claim that these bodies will remain unworn by their constant friction with each other? And how is motion produced in the case of two coexisting bodies mutually fitted together, when one remains motionless? For the inner body, one would think, being held as in a vise by the motionlessness of that which embraces it, will be completely unable to act. And what maintains the embracing body in its fixedness so that it remains unshaken and unaffected by the motion of what fits into it? And if in restless curiosity of thought we conceive of some position for it that would keep it stationary, we must go on in logical consistency to search for the base of that base, and of the next, and of the next, and so on. The inquiry, proceeding from like to like, will go on to infinity and end in helpless perplexity. Even when some body has been proposed as the farthest foundation of the system of the universe, the mind still reaches after what is beyond, so there is no stopping in our inquiry after the limit of the embracing circles. But others say differently: according to the vain theory of those who have speculated on these matters, there is an empty space spread over the back of the heavens, and the motion of the universe revolves upon itself within this vacuum, meeting no resistance from any solid body capable of slowing it by opposition and checking its revolution. What, then, is that vacuum, which they say is neither a body nor an idea? How far does it extend, and what comes after it, and what relation exists between the firm, resisting body and that void and unsubstantial one? What unites things so contrary by nature? And how can the harmony of the universe consist of elements so incompatible? And what can anyone say of heaven itself? That it is a mixture of the elements it contains, or one of them, or something else besides them? What about the stars themselves? Where does their radiance come from? What is it and how is it composed? And what is the reason for their difference in beauty and magnitude? And the seven inner orbs revolving in a direction opposite to the motion of the universe—what are they, and by what influence are they propelled? Then too, what is that immaterial and ethereal empyrean, and the intermediate air that forms a wall of partition between that element in nature which gives heat and consumes, and that which is moist and combustible? And how does earth below form the foundation of the whole, and what keeps it firmly in its place? What controls its downward tendency? If anyone questions us on these and similar points, will any of us be found so presumptuous as to promise an explanation of them? No! The only reply that can be given by sensible people is this: that He Who made all things in wisdom can alone provide an account of His creation. For ourselves, through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, as the Apostle says.

It will presently be time to bring to their own recollection the method of this argument. Suffice it first to say this. There is no faculty in human nature adequate to the full comprehension of the divine essence. It may be that it is easy to show this in the case of human capacity alone, and to say that the incorporeal creation is incapable of taking in and comprehending that nature which is infinite will not be far short of the truth, as we may see by familiar examples; for as there are many and various things that have fleshly life, winged things, and things of the earth, some that mount above the clouds by virtue of their wings, others that dwell in hollows or burrow in the ground, on comparing which it would appear that there was no small difference between the inhabitants of air and of land; while, if the comparison be extended to the stars and the fixed circumference, it will be seen that what soars aloft on wings is not less widely removed from heaven than from the animals that are on the earth; so, too, the strength of angels compared with our own seems preeminently great, because, undisturbed by sensation, it pursues its lofty themes with pure naked intelligence. Yet, if we weigh even their comprehension with the majesty of Him Who really is, it may be that if any one should venture to say that even their power of understanding is not far superior to our own weakness, his conjecture would fall within the limits of probability, for wide and insurmountable is the interval that divides and fences off uncreated from created nature. The latter is limited, the former not. The latter is confined within its own boundaries according to the pleasure of its Maker. The former is bounded only by infinity. The latter stretches itself out within certain degrees of extension, limited by time and space: the former transcends all notion of degree, baffling curiosity from every point of view. In this life we can apprehend the beginning and the end of all things that exist, but the beatitude that is above the creature admits neither end nor beginning, but is above all that is connoted by either, being ever the same, self-dependent, not travelling on by degrees from one point to another in its life; for there is no participation of other life in its life, such that we might infer end and beginning; but, be it what it may, it is life energizing in itself, not becoming greater or less by addition or diminution. For increase has no place in the infinite, and that which is by its nature passionless excludes all notion of decrease. And as, when looking up to heaven, and in a measure apprehending by the visual organs the beauty that is in the height, we doubt not the existence of what we see, but if asked what it is, we are unable to define its nature, but we simply admire as we contemplate the overarching vault, the reverse planetary motion, the so-called Zodiac graven obliquely on the pole, whereby astronomers observe the motion of bodies revolving in an opposite direction, the differences of luminaries according to their magnitude, and the specialities of their rays, their risings and settings that take place according to the circling year ever at the same seasons undeviatingly, the conjunctions of planets, the courses of those that pass below, the eclipses of those that are above, the obumbrations of the earth, the reappearance of eclipsed bodies, the moon's multiform changes, the motion of the sun midway within the poles, and how, filled with his own light, and crowned with his encircling beams, and embracing all things in his sovereign light, he himself also at times suffers eclipse (the disc of the moon, as they say, passing before him), and how, by the will of Him Who has so ordained, ever running his own particular course, he accomplishes his appointed orbit and progress, opening out the four seasons of the year in succession; we, as I say, when we contemplate these phenomena by the aid of sight, are in no doubt of their existence, though we are as far from comprehending their essential nature as if sight had not given us any glimpse whatever of what we have seen; and even so, with regard to the Creator of the world, we know that He exists, but of His essential nature we cannot deny that we are ignorant. But, boasting as they do that they know these things, let them first tell us about the things of inferior nature; what they think of the body of the heavens, of the machinery which conveys the stars in their eternal courses, or of the sphere in which they move; for, however far speculation may proceed, when it comes to the uncertain and incomprehensible it must stop. For though any one say that another body, like in fashion (to that body of the heavens), fitting to its circular shape, checks its velocity, so that, ever turning in its course, it revolves conformably to that other upon itself, being retained by the force that embraces it from flying off at a tangent, yet how can he assert that these bodies will remain unspent by their constant friction with each other? And how, again, is motion produced in the case of two coeval bodies mutually conformed, when the one remains motionless (for the inner body, one would have thought, being held as in a vice by the motionlessness of that which embraces it, will be quite unable to act); and what is it that maintains the embracing body in its fixedness, so that it remains unshaken and unaffected by the motion of that which fits into it? And if in restless curiosity of thought we should conceive of some position for it that should keep it stationary, we must go on in logical consistency to search for the base of that base, and of the next, and of the next, and so on, and so the inquiry, proceeding from like to like, will go on to infinity, and end in helpless perplexity, still, even when some body has been put for the farthest foundation of the system of the universe, reaching after what is beyond, so that there is no stopping in our inquiry after the limit of the embracing circles. But not so, say others: but (according to the vain theory of those who have speculated on these matters) there is an empty space spread over the back of the heavens, working in which vacuum the motion of the universe revolves upon itself, meeting with no resistance from any solid body capable of retarding it by opposition and of checking its course of revolution. What, then, is that vacuum, which they say is neither a body nor an idea? How far does it extend, and what succeeds it, and what relation exists between the firm, resisting body, and that void and unsubstantial one? What is there to unite things so contrary by nature? And how can the harmony of the universe consist out of elements so incongruous; and what can any one say of Heaven itself? That it is a mixture of the elements which it contains, or one of them, or something else beside them? What, again, of the stars themselves? Whence comes their radiance? What is it and how is it composed? And what is the reason of their difference in beauty and magnitude? And the seven inner orbs revolving in an opposite direction to the motion of the universe, what are they, and by what influence are they propelled? Then, too, what is that immaterial and ethereal empyrean, and the intermediate air which forms a wall of partition between that element in nature which gives heat and consumes, and that which is moist and combustible? And how does earth below form the foundation of the whole, and what is it that keeps it firmly in its place? What is it that controls its downward tendency? If any one should interrogate us on these and such-like points, will any of us be found so presumptuous as to promise an explanation of them? No! The only reply that can be given by men of sense is this:– that He Who made all things in wisdom can alone furnish an account of His creation. For ourselves, through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, as says the Apostle Hebrews 1:2.

If the lower creation that we can perceive with our senses surpasses human knowledge, how could He who made the worlds by His mere will be within reach of our understanding? Surely this is vanity and lying madness, as the Prophet says, to think we can comprehend things that are incomprehensible. We can see this in the way small children occupy themselves in their play. Often, when a sunbeam streams down on them through a window, they are delighted by its beauty and throw themselves at what they see, eager to catch the sunbeam in their hands. They compete with one another, grasping at the light with their fingers and imagining they have trapped the ray inside them. But when they open their hands and discover that the sunbeam they held has slipped through their fingers, they laugh and clap their hands. In the same way, the children of our generation, as the parable says, sit playing in the marketplaces. When they see the power of God shining into their souls through the dispensations of His providence and the wonders of His creation like a warm ray coming from the natural sun, they do not marvel at the divine gift or worship Him whom such things reveal. Instead, they go beyond the limits of the soul's capacities and seek with their sophisticated reasoning to grasp what cannot be grasped, thinking their arguments can lay hold of what they believe in. But when their argument unfolds and exposes the tangled web of their sophistries, discerning people immediately see that what they have grasped is nothing at all. So petty and childish are they, laboring in vain at impossibilities, trying to contain the inconceivable nature of God in the few syllables of the term ungenerate. They applaud their own foolishness and imagine God to be such that human reasoning can capture Him under a single term. While they claim to follow the teaching of the sacred writers, they are not afraid to raise themselves above them. What cannot be shown to have been said by any of those blessed ones whose words are recorded in the sacred books—these things, as the Apostle says, understanding neither what they say nor whereof they affirm—they nevertheless claim to know and boast of guiding others to such knowledge. Because of this, they declare that they have grasped that God the Only-begotten is not what He is called. Their premises force them to this conclusion.

If, then, the lower creation which comes under our organs of sense transcends human knowledge, how can He, Who by His mere will made the worlds, be within the range of our apprehension? Surely this is vanity, and lying madness, as says the Prophet, to think it possible to comprehend the things which are incomprehensible. So may we see tiny children busying themselves in their play. For oft-times, when a sunbeam streams down upon them through a window, delighted with its beauty they throw themselves on what they see, and are eager to catch the sunbeam in their hands, and struggle with one another, and grasp the light in the clutch of their fingers, and fancy they have imprisoned the ray in them, but presently when they unclasp their hands and find that the sunbeam which they held has slipped through their fingers, they laugh and clap their hands. In like manner the children of our generation, as says the parable, sit playing in the market-places; for, seeing the power of God shining in upon their souls through the dispensations of His providence, and the wonders of His creation like a warm ray emanating from the natural sun, they marvel not at the Divine gift, nor adore Him Whom such things reveal, but passing beyond the limits of the soul's capabilities, they seek with their sophistical understanding to grasp that which is intangible, and think by their reasonings to lay hold of what they are persuaded of; but when their argument unfolds itself and discloses the tangled web of their sophistries, men of discernment see at once that what they have apprehended is nothing at all; so pettily and so childishly labouring in vain at impossibilities do they set themselves to include the inconceivable nature of God in the few syllables of the term ungenerate, and applaud their own folly, and imagine God to be such that human reasoning can include Him under one single term: and while they pretend to follow the teaching of the sacred writers, they are not afraid of raising themselves above them. For what cannot be shown to have been said by any of those blessed ones, any words of whose are recorded in the sacred books, these things, as says the Apostle, understanding neither what they say, nor whereof they affirm, they nevertheless say they know, and boast of guiding others to such knowledge. And on this account they declare that they have apprehended that God the Only-begotten is not what He is called. For to this conclusion they are compelled by their premises.

How pitiful they are in their cleverness! How wretched, how deadly is their overly wise philosophy! Who goes willingly into the pit as eagerly as these men work and exert themselves to dig out their lake of blasphemy? How far they have separated themselves from Christian hope! What a gulf they have fixed between themselves and the faith that saves! How far they have withdrawn from Abraham, the father of faith! He indeed—if in the lofty spirit of the Apostle we may interpret the words allegorically and so penetrate to the inner meaning of the story without losing sight of the truth of its actual events—he, I say, went out by divine command from his own country and relatives on a journey worthy of a prophet eager for knowledge of God. For no physical relocation seems to me to satisfy the idea of the blessings it indicates he found. For by going out from himself and from his country—by which I mean his earthly and fleshly mind—and raising his thoughts as far as possible above the common limits of nature, and abandoning the soul's kinship with the senses, so that undisturbed by any sensory objects his eyes might be open to invisible things, with neither sight nor sound to distract the mind in its work—walking, as the Apostle says, by faith and not by sight—he was raised so high by the sublimity of his knowledge that he came to be regarded as the peak of human perfection, knowing as much of God as finite human capacity at its fullest extent could possibly attain. Therefore the Lord of all creation, as though He were Abraham's discovery, is called specially the God of Abraham. Yet what does Scripture say about him? That he went out not knowing where he was going, nor even being able to learn the name of the One he loved, yet in no way impatient or ashamed because of such ignorance.

How pitiable are they for their cleverness! How wretched, how fatal is their over-wise philosophy! Who is there who goes of his own accord to the pit so eagerly as these men labour and bestir themselves to dig out their lake of blasphemy? How far have they separated themselves from the hope of the Christian! What a gulf have they fixed between themselves and the faith which saves! How far have they withdrawn themselves from Abraham the father of the faith! He indeed, if in the lofty spirit of the Apostle we may take the words allegorically, and so penetrate to the inner sense of the history, without losing sight of the truth of its facts — he, I say, went out by Divine command from his own country and kindred on a journey worthy of a prophet eager for the knowledge of God. Hebrews 11:8 For no local migration seems to me to satisfy the idea of the blessings which it is signified that he found. For going out from himself and from his country, by which I understand his earthly and carnal mind, and raising his thoughts as far as possible above the common boundaries of nature, and forsaking the soul's kinship with the senses — so that untroubled by any of the objects of sense his eyes might be open to the things which are invisible, there being neither sight nor sound to distract the mind in its work — walking, as says the Apostle, by faith, not by sight, he was raised so high by the sublimity of his knowledge that he came to be regarded as the acme of human perfection, knowing as much of God as it was possible for finite human capacity at its full stretch to attain. Therefore also the Lord of all creation, as though He were a discovery of Abraham, is called specially the God of Abraham. Yet what says the Scripture respecting him? That he went out not knowing whither he went, no, nor even being capable of learning the name of Him whom he loved, yet in no wise impatient or ashamed on account of such ignorance.

This, then, was what his safe guidance meant as he searched for what he sought—that he was not blindly led by any of the readily available means for learning about God, and that his mind, unhindered by any sense object, was never prevented from journeying in search of what lies beyond all that is known. Having gone far beyond the wisdom of his countrymen through reasoning (I mean the philosophy of the Chaldeans, which was limited to visible things), and rising above things that can be known by the senses, he desired to see the original pattern of all beauty based on the beauty of what he contemplated and the harmony of the heavenly wonders. And so too, all the other things he came to understand as he progressed through his reasoning—whether God's power, or His goodness, or His being without beginning, or His infinity, or whatever else can be conceived regarding the divine physis—he used all of them as provisions and tools for his journey forward, always making one discovery a stepping-stone to another, always reaching forward to what lay ahead, and establishing in his heart, as the Prophet says, each good stage of his progress. He passed by all knowledge gained through his own ability as falling short of what he was seeking. When he had gone beyond every guess about the divine physis suggested by any name among all our concepts of God, having cleansed his reason of all such ideas and arrived at a faith pure and free from all prejudice, he made this a sure and clear sign of the knowledge of God: the belief that He is greater and more exalted than any sign by which He may be known. For this reason, indeed, after the ecstasy that fell upon him and after his lofty meditations, falling back on his human weakness, he said, I am but dust and ashes—that is to say, without voice or power to express that good which his mind had conceived. For dust and ashes seem to indicate what is lifeless and barren, and so a law of faith arises for the life to come, teaching those who would approach God through this account of Abraham that it is impossible to draw near to God unless faith mediates and brings the searching soul into union with the incomprehensible physis of God. For leaving behind the curiosity that comes from knowledge, Abraham, the Apostle says, believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness. Now this was written not for his sake, the Apostle says, but for us, showing that God counts men's faith, not their knowledge, as righteousness. For knowledge acts in a kind of commercial way, dealing only with what is known. But the faith of Christians acts differently. For it is the substance not of things known, but of things hoped for. Now what we already have we no longer hope for. For what a man has, the Apostle says, why does he still hope for it? But faith makes our own what we do not see, assuring us by its own certainty of what does not appear. For so the Apostle speaks of the believer, that he endured as seeing Him who is invisible. Therefore, anyone who claims that it is possible to gain knowledge of the divine ousia through knowledge that uselessly puffs up is mistaken. For there is no one so great that he can claim equal understanding with the Lord, for as David says, Who among the clouds can be compared to the Lord? Nor is what is sought so small that it can be grasped by the reasoning of human shallowness. Listen to the preacher warning not to be quick to say anything before God, for God, he says, is in heaven above, and you are on earth beneath.

This, then, was the meaning of his safe guidance on the way to what he sought — that he was not blindly led by any of the means ready to hand for his instruction in the things of God, and that his mind, unimpeded by any object of sense, was never hindered from its journeying in quest of what lies beyond all that is known, but having gone by reasoning far beyond the wisdom of his countrymen, (I mean the philosophy of the Chaldees, limited as it was to the things which do appear,) and soaring above the things which are cognizable by sense, from the beauty of the objects of contemplation, and the harmony of the heavenly wonders, he desired to behold the archetype of all beauty. And so, too, all the other things which in the course of his reasoning he was led to apprehend as he advanced, whether the power of God, or His goodness, or His being without beginning, or His infinity, or whatever else is conceivable in respect to the divine nature, using them all as supplies and appliances for his onward journey, ever making one discovery a stepping-stone to another, ever reaching forth unto those things which were before, and setting in his heart, as says the Prophet, each fair stage of his advance, and passing by all knowledge acquired by his own ability as falling short of that of which he was in quest, when he had gone beyond every conjecture respecting the divine nature which is suggested by any name among all our conceptions of God, having purged his reason of all such fancies, and arrived at a faith unalloyed and free from all prejudice, he made this a sure and manifest token of the knowledge of God, viz. the belief that He is greater and more sublime than any token by which He may be known. On this account, indeed, after the ecstasy which fell upon him, and after his sublime meditations, falling back on his human weakness, I am, says he, but dust and ashes Genesis 18:27, that is to say, without voice or power to interpret that good which his mind had conceived. For dust and ashes seem to denote what is lifeless and barren; and so there arises a law of faith for the life to come, teaching those who would come to God, by this history of Abraham, that it is impossible to draw near to God, unless faith mediate, and bring the seeking soul into union with the incomprehensible nature of God. For leaving behind him the curiosity that arises from knowledge, Abraham, says the Apostle, believed God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness Genesis 15:6; Romans 4:22. Now it was not written for his sake, the Apostle says, but for us, that God counts to men for righteousness their faith, not their knowledge. For knowledge acts, as it were, in a commercial spirit, dealing only with what is known. But the faith of Christians acts otherwise. For it is the substance, not of things known, but of things hoped for. Now that which we have already we no longer hope for. For what a man has, says the Apostle, why does he yet hope for Romans 8:24? But faith makes our own that which we see not, assuring us by its own certainty of that which does not appear. For so speaks the Apostle of the believer, that he endured as seeing Him Who is invisible Hebrews 11:27. Vain, therefore, is he who maintains that it is possible to take knowledge of the divine essence, by the knowledge which puffs up to no purpose. For neither is there any man so great that he can claim equality in understanding with the Lord, for, as says David, Who is he among the clouds that shall be compared unto the Lord? nor is that which is sought so small that it can be compassed by the reasonings of human shallowness. Listen to the preacher exhorting not to be hasty to utter anything before God, for God, (says he,) is in heaven above, and thou upon earth beneath Ecclesiastes 5:2.

He shows, I think, through how these elements relate to or are separated from each other, how far the divine nature stands above human rational speculation. For that nature which transcends all intelligence is as high above earthly calculation as the stars are above the reach of our fingers, or rather, many times more than that.

He shows, I think, by the relation of these elements to each other, or rather by their distance, how far the divine nature is above the speculations of human reason. For that nature which transcends all intelligence is as high above earthly calculation as the stars are above the touch of our fingers; or rather, many times more than that.

Knowing, then, how widely the Divine nature differs from our own, let us quietly remain within our proper limits. For it is both safer and more reverent to believe that the majesty of God is greater than we can understand, than to imagine, after limiting His glory by our own mistaken ideas, that there is nothing beyond what we can conceive.

Knowing, then, how widely the Divine nature differs from our own, let us quietly remain within our proper limits. For it is both safer and more reverent to believe the majesty of God to be greater than we can understand, than, after circumscribing His glory by our misconceptions, to suppose there is nothing beyond our conception of it.

For other reasons as well, it is safe to leave the Divine essence alone as unspeakable and beyond the scope of human reasoning. The desire to investigate what is obscure and trace out hidden things through human reasoning gives entrance to false notions just as much as to true ones, because someone who aspires to know the unknown will not always arrive at truth, but may also conceive of falsehood itself as truth. But the disciple of the Gospels and of Prophecy believes that He Who is, is—both from what he has learned from the sacred writers, and from the harmony of things that appear, and from the works of Providence. But what He is and how He is—leaving this as a useless and unprofitable speculation, such a disciple will open no door to falsehood against truth. For in speculative inquiry, fallacies readily find place. But where speculation is entirely at rest, the necessity of error is prevented. And that this is a true account of the case may be seen if we consider how heresies in the churches have wandered off into many and various opinions regarding God, with people deceiving themselves as they are swayed by one mental impulse or another, and how these very men with whom our treatise is concerned have slipped into such a pit of profanity. Would it not have been safer for all, following the counsel of wisdom, to abstain from searching into such deep matters, and in peace and quietness to keep inviolate the pure deposit of the faith? But since, in fact, human nothingness has begun intruding recklessly into matters that are above comprehension, and supporting by dogmatic teaching the inventions of their vain imagination, there has sprung up as a consequence a whole host of enemies to the truth, and among them these very men who are the subject of this treatise—dogmatizers of deceit who seek to limit the Divine Being, and all but openly idolize their own imagination, in that they deify the idea expressed by this ungeneracy of theirs, as if it were not only a certain relation discernible in the Divine nature, but as if it were itself God, or the ousia of God. Yet perhaps they would have done better to look to the sacred company of the Prophets and Patriarchs, to whom at various times and in various manners the Word of truth spoke, and, next in order, those who were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word, that they might give due honor to the claims on their belief of the things attested by the Holy Spirit Himself, and abide within the limits of their teaching and knowledge, and not venture on themes which are not comprehended in the canon of the sacred writers. For those writers, by revealing God, so long unknown to human life because of the prevalence of idolatry, and making Him known to men, both from the wonders which manifest themselves in His works and from the names which express the manifold variety of His power, lead men, as by the hand, to the understanding of the Divine nature, making known to them the bare grandeur of the thought of God. But the question of His ousia, as one which it is impossible to grasp, and which bears no fruit to the curious inquirer, they dismiss without any attempt at its solution. For whereas they have set forth respecting all other things that they were created—the heaven, the earth, the sea, times, ages, and the creatures that are in them—yet what each is in itself, and how and from where, on these points they are silent. So too concerning God Himself, they exhort men to believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him, but regarding His nature, as being above every name, they neither name it nor concern themselves about it. For if we have learned any names expressive of the knowledge of God, all these are related and have analogy to such names as denote human characteristics. For just as those who would indicate some person unknown by marks of recognition speak of him as of good parentage and descent, if such happens to be the case, or as distinguished for his riches or his worth, or as in the prime of life, or of such or such stature, and in so speaking they do not set forth the nature of the person indicated, but give certain notes of recognition (for neither advantages of birth, nor of wealth, nor of reputation, nor of age constitute the man; they are considered simply as being observable in the man), thus too the expressions of Holy Scripture devised for the glory of God set forth one or another of the things which are declared concerning Him, each inculcating some special teaching. For by these expressions we are taught either His power, or that He admits not of deterioration, or that He is without cause and without limit, or that He is supreme above all things, or, in short, something, be it what it may, respecting Him. But His very ousia, as not to be conceived by the human intellect or expressed in words, this it has left untouched as a thing not to be made the subject of curious inquiry, ruling that it be revered in silence, in that it forbids the investigation of things too deep for us, while it enjoins the duty of being slow to utter any word before God. And therefore, whoever searches the whole of Revelation will find in it no doctrine of the Divine nature, nor indeed of anything else that has a substantial existence, so that we pass our lives in ignorance of much, being ignorant first of all of ourselves, as men, and then of all things besides. For who is there who has arrived at a comprehension of his own soul? Who is acquainted with its very ousia, whether it is material or immaterial, whether it is purely incorporeal, or whether it exhibits anything of a corporeal character? How it comes into being, how it is composed, from where it enters into the body, how it departs from it, or what means it possesses to unite it to the nature of the body? How, being intangible and without form, it is kept within its own sphere? What difference exists among its powers? How one and the same soul, in its eager curiosity to know the things which are unseen, soars above the highest heavens, and again, dragged down by the weight of the body, falls back on material passions—anger and fear, pain and pleasure, pity and cruelty, hope and memory, cowardice and boldness, friendship and hatred, and all the contraries that are produced in the faculties of the soul? Observing these things, who has not imagined that he has a sort of crowd of souls gathered together in himself, each of the aforesaid passions differing widely from the rest, and, where it prevails, holding lordship over them all, so that even the rational faculty falls under and is subject to the predominating power of such forces, and contributes its own cooperation to such impulses, as to a despotic lord? What word, then, of the inspired Scripture has taught us the manifold and multiform character of what we understand in speaking of the soul? Is it a unity composed of them all, and, if so, what is it that blends and harmonizes things mutually opposed, so that many things become one, while each element, taken by itself, is shut up in the soul as in some ample vessel? And how is it that we do not have the perception of them all as being involved in it, being at one and the same time confident and afraid, at once hating and loving and feeling in ourselves the working as well of all other emotions confused and intermingled? But, on the contrary, we take knowledge only of their alternate control, when one of them prevails, the rest remaining quiet. What in short is this composition and arrangement, and this capacious void within us, such that to each is assigned its own post, as though hindered by middle walls of partition from holding intercourse with its neighbor? And then again what account has explained whether passion is the fundamental ousia of the soul, or fear, or any of the other elements which I have mentioned, and what emotions are unsubstantial? For if these have an independent subsistence, then, as I have said, there is comprehended in ourselves not one soul, but a collection of souls, each of them occupying its distinct position as a particular and individual soul. But if we must suppose these to be a kind of emotion without subsistence, how can that which has no essential existence exercise lordship over us, having reduced us as it were to slavery under whichever of these things may have happened to prevail? And if the soul is something that thought alone can grasp, how can that which is manifold and composite be contemplated as such, when such an object ought to be contemplated by itself, independently of these bodily qualities? Then, as to the soul's power of growth, of desire, of nutrition, of change, and the fact that all the bodily powers are nourished, while feeling does not extend through all, but, as in things without life, some of our members are destitute of feeling—the bones for example, the cartilages, the nails, the hair, all of which take nourishment but do not feel—tell me who is there that understands this only half-complete operation of the soul as to these? And why do I speak of the soul? Even the inquiry as to that thing in the flesh itself which assumes all the corporeal qualities has not been

And on other accounts also it may be called safe to let alone the Divine essence, as unspeakable, and beyond the scope of human reasoning. For the desire of investigating what is obscure and tracing out hidden things by the operation of human reasoning gives an entrance to false no less than to true notions, inasmuch as he who aspires to know the unknown will not always arrive at truth, but may also conceive of falsehood itself as truth. But the disciple of the Gospels and of Prophecy believes that He Who is, is; both from what he has learned from the sacred writers, and from the harmony of things which do appear, and from the works of Providence. But what He is and how — leaving this as a useless and unprofitable speculation, such a disciple will open no door to falsehood against truth. For in speculative enquiry fallacies readily find place. But where speculation is entirely at rest, the necessity of error is precluded. And that this is a true account of the case, may be seen if we consider how it is that heresies in the churches have wandered off into many and various opinions in regard to God, men deceiving themselves as they are swayed by one mental impulse or another; and how these very men with whom our treatise is concerned have slipped into such a pit of profanity. Would it not have been safer for all, following the counsel of wisdom, to abstain from searching into such deep matters, and in peace and quietness to keep inviolate the pure deposit of the faith? But since, in fact, human nothingness has commenced intruding recklessly into matters that are above comprehension, and supporting by dogmatic teaching the figments of their vain imagination, there has sprung up in consequence a whole host of enemies to the truth, and among them these very men who are the subject of this treatise; dogmatizers of deceit who seek to limit the Divine Being, and all but openly idolize their own imagination, in that they deify the idea expressed by this ungeneracy of theirs, as not being only in a certain relation discernible in the Divine nature, but as being itself God, or the essence of God. Yet perchance they would have done better to look to the sacred company of the Prophets and Patriarchs, to whom at sundry times, and in various manners Hebrews 1:1, the Word of truth spoke, and, next in order, those who were eye-witnesses and ministers of the word, that they might give honour due to the claims on their belief of the things attested by the Holy Spirit Himself, and abide within the limits of their teaching and knowledge, and not venture on themes which are not comprehended in the canon of the sacred writers. For those writers, by revealing God, so long unknown to human life by reason of the prevalence of idolatry, and making Him known to men, both from the wonders which manifest themselves in His works, and from the names which express the manifold variety of His power, lead men, as by the hand, to the understanding of the Divine nature, making known to them the bare grandeur of the thought of God; while the question of His essence, as one which it is impossible to grasp, and which bears no fruit to the curious enquirer, they dismiss without any attempt at its solution. For whereas they have set forth respecting all other things, that they were created, the heaven, the earth, the sea, times, ages, and the creatures that are therein, but what each is in itself, and how and whence, on these points they are silent; so, too, concerning God Himself, they exhort men to believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him Hebrews 11:6, but in regard to His nature, as being above every name, they neither name it nor concern themselves about it. For if we have learned any names expressive of the knowledge of God, all these are related and have analogy to such names as denote human characteristics. For as they who would indicate some person unknown by marks of recognition speak of him as of good parentage and descent, if such happen to be the case, or as distinguished for his riches or his worth, or as in the prime of life, or of such or such stature, and in so speaking they do not set forth the nature of the person indicated, but give certain notes of recognition (for neither advantages of birth, nor of wealth, nor of reputation, nor of age, constitute the man; they are considered, simply as being observable in the man), thus too the expressions of Holy Scripture devised for the glory of God set forth one or another of the things which are declared concerning Him, each inculcating some special teaching. For by these expressions we are taught either His power, or that He admits not of deterioration, or that He is without cause and without limit, or that He is supreme above all things, or, in short, something, be it what it may, respecting Him. But His very essence, as not to be conceived by the human intellect or expressed in words, this it has left untouched as a thing not to be made the subject of curious enquiry, ruling that it be revered in silence, in that it forbids the investigation of things too deep for us, while it enjoins the duty of being slow to utter any word before God. And therefore, whosoever searches the whole of Revelation will find therein no doctrine of the Divine nature, nor indeed of anything else that has a substantial existence, so that we pass our lives in ignorance of much, being ignorant first of all of ourselves, as men, and then of all things besides. For who is there who has arrived at a comprehension of his own soul? Who is acquainted with its very essence, whether it is material or immaterial, whether it is purely incorporeal, or whether it exhibits anything of a corporeal character; how it comes into being, how it is composed, whence it enters into the body, how it departs from it, or what means it possesses to unite it to the nature of the body; how, being intangible and without form, it is kept within its own sphere, what difference exists among its powers, how one and the same soul, in its eager curiosity to know the things which are unseen, soars above the highest heavens, and again, dragged down by the weight of the body, falls back on material passions, anger and fear, pain and pleasure, pity and cruelty, hope and memory, cowardice and audacity, friendship and hatred, and all the contraries that are produced in the faculties of the soul? Observing which things, who has not fancied that he has a sort of populace of souls crowded together in himself, each of the aforesaid passions differing widely from the rest, and, where it prevails, holding lordship over them all, so that even the rational faculty falls under and is subject to the predominating power of such forces, and contributes its own co-operation to such impulses, as to a despotic lord? What word, then, of the inspired Scripture has taught us the manifold and multiform character of what we understand in speaking of the soul? Is it a unity composed of them all, and, if so, what is it that blends and harmonizes things mutually opposed, so that many things become one, while each element, taken by itself, is shut up in the soul as in some ample vessel? And how is it that we have not the perception of them all as being involved in it, being at one and the same time confident and afraid, at once hating and loving and feeling in ourselves the working as well of all other emotions confused and intermingled; but, on the contrary, take knowledge only of their alternate control, when one of them prevails, the rest remaining quiescent? What in short is this composition and arrangement, and this capacious void within us, such that to each is assigned its own post, as though hindered by middle walls of partition from holding intercourse with its neighbour? And then again what account has explained whether passion is the fundamental essence of the soul, or fear, or any of the other elements which I have mentioned; and what emotions are unsubstantial? For if these have an independent subsistence, then, as I have said, there is comprehended in ourselves not one soul, but a collection of souls, each of them occupying its distinct position as a particular and individual soul. But if we must suppose these to be a kind of emotion without subsistence, how can that which has no essential existence exercise lordship over us, having reduced us as it were to slave under whichsoever of these things may have happened to prevail? And if the soul is something that thought only can grasp, how can that which is manifold and composite be contemplated as such, when such an object ought to be contemplated by itself, independently of these bodily qualities? Then, as to the soul's power of growth, of desire, of nutrition, of change, and the fact that all the bodily powers are nourished, while feeling does not extend through all, but, as in things without life, some of our members are destitute of feeling, the bones for example, the cartilages, the nails, the hair, all of which take nourishment, but do not feel — tell me who is there that understands this only half-complete operation of the soul as to these? And why do I speak of the soul? Even the inquiry as to that thing in the flesh itself which assumes all the corporeal qualities has not been pursued to any definite result. For if any one has made a mental analysis of that which is seen into its component parts, and, having stripped the object of its qualities, has attempted to consider it by itself, I fail to see what will have been left for investigation. For when you take from a body its color, its shape, its degree of resistance, its weight, its quantity, its position, its forces active or passive, its relation to other objects, what remains, that can still be called a body, we can neither see of ourselves, nor are we taught it by Scripture. But how can he who is ignorant of himself take knowledge of anything that is above himself? And if a man is familiarized with such ignorance of himself, is he not plainly taught by the very fact not to be astonished at any of the mysteries that are without? Wherefore also, of the elements of the world, we know only so much by our senses as to enable us to receive what they severally supply for our living. But we possess no knowledge of their substance, nor do we count it loss to be ignorant of it. For what does it profit me to inquire curiously into the nature of fire, how it is struck out, how it is kindled, how, when it has caught hold of the fuel supplied to it, it does not let it go till it has devoured and consumed its prey; how the spark is latent in the flint, how steel, cold as it is to the touch, generates fire, how sticks rubbed together kindle flame, how water shining in the sun causes a flash; and then again the cause of its upward tendency, its power of incessant motion?– Putting aside all which curious questions and investigations, we give heed only to the subservience of this fire to life, seeing that he who avails himself of its service fares no worse than he who busies himself with inquiries into its nature.

Therefore, Holy Scripture passes over all useless inquiry into substance as excessive and unnecessary. And I think this is why John, the Son of Thunder, who with the loud voice of the doctrines in his Gospel rose above the preaching that announced them, said at the end of his Gospel, "There are also many other things which Jesus did, the which if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written." He certainly does not mean by this the miracles of healing, for the narrative leaves none of these unrecorded, even though it does not mention the names of all who were healed. For when he tells us that the dead were raised, that the blind received their sight, that the deaf heard, that the lame walked, and that He healed all kinds of sickness and all kinds of disease, he does not leave any miracle unrecorded in this, but includes each and all of them in these general terms. But it may be that the Evangelist means this in his profound wisdom: that we are to learn the majesty of the Son of God not only by the miracles He did in the flesh. For these are small compared with the greatness of His other work. But look up to Heaven! See its glories! Transfer your thought to the wide extent of the earth, and the watery depths! Take in with your mind the whole world, and when you have come to knowledge of the nature beyond the world, learn that these are the true works of Him who lived among you in the flesh, which (he says), if each were written—and the ousia, manner, origin, and extent of each given—the world itself could not contain the fullness of Christ's teaching about the world itself. For since God has made all things in wisdom, and to His wisdom there is no limit (for His understanding, says the Scripture, is infinite), the world, which is bounded by its own limits, cannot contain within itself the account of infinite wisdom. If, then, the whole world is too small to contain the teaching of the works of God, how many worlds could contain an account of the Lord of them all? For perhaps it will not be denied even by the tongue of the blasphemer that the Maker of all things, which have been created by the mere command of His will, is infinitely greater than all. If, then, the whole creation cannot contain what might be said about itself (for so, according to our explanation, the great Evangelist testifies), how should human shallowness contain all that might be said of the Lord of Creation? Let those grand talkers tell us what man is, in comparison with the universe, what geometrical point is so without size, which of the atoms of Epicurus is capable of such infinitely small reduction in the empty imagination of those who make such problems the object of their study, which of them falls so little short of non-existence, as human shallowness when compared with the universe. As great David also says, with true insight into human weakness, "My age is as nothing unto You," not saying that it is absolutely nothing, but indicating, by this comparison to the non-existent, that what is so extremely brief is next to nothing at all.

Wherefore Holy Scripture omits all idle inquiry into substance as superfluous and unnecessary. And methinks it was for this that John, the Son of Thunder, who with the loud voice of the doctrines contained in his Gospel rose above that of the preaching which heralded them, said at the close of his Gospel, There are also many other things which Jesus did, the which if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written. He certainly does not mean by these the miracles of healing, for of these the narrative leaves none unrecorded, even though it does not mention the names of all who were healed. For when he tells us that the dead were raised, that the blind received their sight, that the deaf heard, that the lame walked, and that He healed all manner of sickness and all manner of disease, he does not in this leave any miracle unrecorded, but embraces each and all in these general terms. But it may be that the Evangelist means this in his profound wisdom: that we are to learn the majesty of the Son of God not by the miracles alone which He did in the flesh. For these are little compared with the greatness of His other work. But look thou up to Heaven! Behold its glories! Transfer your thought to the wide compass of the earth, and the watery depths! Embrace with your mind the whole world, and when you have come to the knowledge of supramundane nature, learn that these are the true works of Him Who sojourned for you in the flesh, which (says he), if each were written — and the essence, manner, origin, and extent of each given — the world itself could not contain the fullness of Christ's teaching about the world itself. For since God has made all things in wisdom, and to His wisdom there is no limit (for His understanding, says the Scripture, is infinite), the world, that is bounded by limits of its own, cannot contain within itself the account of infinite wisdom. If, then, the whole world is too little to contain the teaching of the works of God, how many worlds could contain an account of the Lord of them all? For perhaps it will not be denied even by the tongue of the blasphemer that the Maker of all things, which have been created by the mere fiat of His will, is infinitely greater than all. If, then, the whole creation cannot contain what might be said respecting itself (for so, according to our explanation, the great Evangelist testifies), how should human shallowness contain all that might be said of the Lord of Creation? Let those grand talkers inform us what man is, in comparison with the universe, what geometrical point is so without magnitude, which of the atoms of Epicurus is capable of such infinitesimal reduction in the vain fancy of those who make such problems the object of their study, which of them falls so little short of non- existence, as human shallowness, when compared with the universe. As says also great David, with a true insight into human weakness, Mine age is as nothing unto You, not saying that it is absolutely nothing, but signifying, by this comparison to the non-existent, that what is so exceedingly brief is next to nothing at all.

But despite having only such a nature as their starting point, they speak boldly against the ineffable Power and try to contain the infinite nature within a single term, confining the Divine essence within the narrow boundaries of the word "ungeneracy," so that they may prepare the way for their blasphemy against the Only-begotten. Although the great Basil had corrected this error and shown, regarding these terms, that they have no existence in nature but are attached as concepts to the things they signify, they are so far from returning to the truth that they cling to what they have once asserted as if stuck to birdlime, and they will not release their grip on their deceptive argument. They do not allow the term "ungeneracy" to be used as a mental concept, but make it represent the Divine physis itself. Now to work through their entire argument and attempt to refute it by discussing word by word their trivial and long-winded nonsense would require much leisure, time, and freedom from other obligations. Just as I hear that Eunomius, after applying himself at his leisure and laboriously for a number of years exceeding those of the Trojan War, has constructed this fantasy for himself in his deep sleep, carefully seeking not how to explain any of the ideas he has reached, but how to drag and force them into conformity with his phrases, going around and collecting from certain books the words in them that sound most impressive. And just as beggars lacking clothing pin and patch together tunics for themselves out of rags, so he, plucking a phrase here and a phrase there, has woven together for himself the patchwork of his treatise, gluing in and fixing together the connections of his language with much labor and effort, displaying in this a petty and childish ambition for debate, which any person with an eye to reality would scorn, just as a mature wrestler, no longer in his prime, would scorn to act like a woman through excessive attention to dress. But it seems to me that when the scope of the whole question has been briefly examined, his roundabout flourishes may well be ignored.

But, nevertheless, with only such a nature for their base of operations, they open their mouths wide against the unspeakable Power, and encompass by one appellation the infinite nature, confining the Divine essence within the narrow limits of the term ungeneracy, that they may thereby pave a way for their blasphemy against the Only-begotten; but although the great Basil had corrected this false opinion, and pointed out, in regard to the terms, that they have no existence in nature, but are attached as conceptions to the things signified, so far are they from returning to the truth, that they stick to what they have once advanced, as to birdlime, and will not loose their hold of their fallacious mode of argument, nor do they allow the term ungeneracy to be used in the way of a mental conception, but make it represent the Divine nature itself. Now to go through their whole argument, and to attempt to overthrow it by discussing word by word their frivolous and long-winded nonsense, would be a task requiring much leisure, and time, and freedom from calls of business. Just as I hear that Eunomius, after applying himself at his leisure, and laboriously, for a number of years exceeding those of the Trojan War, has fabricated this dream for himself in his deep slumbers, studiously seeking, not how to interpret any of the ideas which he has arrived at, but how to drag and force them into keeping with his phrases, and going round and collecting out of certain books the words in them that sound grandest. And as beggars in lack of clothing pin and tack together tunics for themselves out of rags, so he, cropping here a phrase and there a phrase, has woven together for himself the patchwork of his treatise, glueing in and fixing together the joinings of his diction with much labour and pains, displaying therein a petty and juvenile ambition for combat, which any man who has an eye to actuality would disdain, just as a steadfast wrestler, no longer in the prime of life, would disdain to play the woman by over-niceness in dress. But to me it seems that, when the scope of the whole question has been briefly run through, his roundabout flourishes may well be let alone.

I have said, then (for I make my master's words my own), that reason gives us only a dim and imperfect understanding of the Divine nature. Nevertheless, the knowledge we gain from the terms that piety allows us to apply to it is sufficient for our limited capacity. Now we do not say that all these terms have the same significance. Some of them express qualities inherent in God, and others express qualities that are not, as when we say that He is just or incorruptible. By the term just we mean that justice is found in Him, and by incorruptible we mean that corruption is not. Again, by a change of meaning, we may apply terms to God in the way of accommodation, so that what is proper to God may be represented by a term which does not belong to Him at all, and what is foreign to His nature may be represented by what does belong to Him. Since justice is the opposite of injustice, and everlastingness is the contrary of destruction, we may appropriately and without error use contraries in speaking of God, as when we say that He is ever existent, or that He is not unjust, which is the same as saying that He is just, and that He does not admit corruption. In the same way, other names of God, by a certain change of meaning, may be suitably used to express either sense—for example good, and immortal, and all expressions formed in a similar way. Each of these terms, depending on how it is taken, can indicate what does or does not belong to the Divine nature, so that, despite the formal change, our orthodox belief concerning the object remains firmly fixed. It amounts to the same thing whether we speak of God as incapable of evil, or whether we call Him good; whether we confess that He is immortal, or say that He lives forever. We understand no difference in the meaning of these terms, but we signify one and the same thing by both, though one may seem to convey affirmation and the other negation. And so again, when we speak of God as the First Cause of all things, or when we speak of Him as without cause, we are not contradicting ourselves in meaning. By either name we declare that God is the supreme Ruler and First Cause of all. Accordingly, when we speak of Him as without cause and as Lord of all, in the former case we indicate what does not belong to Him, and in the latter case what does. It is possible, as I have said, by a change in what is signified, to give an opposite sense to the words that express them, and to signify a property by a word which for the time takes a negative form, and vice versa. It is permissible, instead of saying that He Himself has no primal cause, to describe Him as the First Cause of all, and again, instead of this, to hold that He alone exists ungenerately, so that while the words seem by the formal change to be at odds with each other, the meaning remains one and the same. In questions about God, the goal is not to produce a sweet and harmonious arrangement of words, but to work out an orthodox formulation of thought by which a worthy conception of God may be secured. Since it is only orthodox to conclude that He Who is the First Cause of all is Himself without cause, if this position is established, what further argument over words remains for people of sense and judgment, when every word that conveys such an idea to us has the same meaning? Whether you say that He is the First Cause and Principle of all, or speak of Him as without origin, whether you speak of Him as of ungenerate or eternal subsistence, as the Cause of all or as alone without cause, all these words are, in a way, of similar force and equivalent to one another as far as the meaning of what is signified is concerned. It is mere foolishness to argue for this or that vocal sound, as if orthodoxy were a matter of sounds and syllables rather than of the mind. This view has been carefully explained by our great master, so that all whose eyes are not blindfolded by the veil of heresy may clearly see that, whatever the nature of God may be, He is not to be grasped by the senses, and that He transcends reason. Yet human thought, engaging in careful inquiry with such help of reason as it can command, stretches out its hand and just touches His unapproachable and sublime nature. It is neither sharp-sighted enough to see clearly what is invisible, nor so completely kept from approach as to be unable to catch some faint glimpse of what it seeks to know. It attains such knowledge partly by the touch of reason, and partly from its very inability to discern it, finding that it is a sort of knowledge to know that what is sought transcends knowledge. It has learned what is contrary to the Divine nature, as well as all that may fittingly be conjectured about it. Not that it has been able to gain full knowledge of that nature itself about which it reasons, but from the knowledge of those properties which are, or are not, inherent in it, this human mind sees what alone can be seen: that which is far removed from all evil, and is understood in all good, is altogether such as I would call ineffable and incomprehensible by human reason.

I have said, then (for I make my master's words my own), that reason supplies us with but a dim and imperfect comprehension of the Divine nature; nevertheless, the knowledge that we gather from the terms which piety allows us to apply to it is sufficient for our limited capacity. Now we do not say that all these terms have a uniform significance; for some of them express qualities inherent in God, and others qualities that are not, as when we say that He is just or incorruptible, by the term just signifying that justice is found in Him, and by incorruptible that corruption is not. Again, by a change of meaning, we may apply terms to God in the way of accommodation, so that what is proper to God may be represented by a term which in no wise belongs to Him, and what is foreign to His nature may be represented by what belongs to Him. For whereas justice is the contradictory of injustice, and everlastingness the contrary of destruction, we may fitly and without impropriety employ contraries in speaking of God, as when we say that He is ever existent, or that He is not unjust, which is equivalent to saying that He is just, and that He admits not of corruption. So, too, we may say that other names of God, by a certain change of signification, may be suitably employed to express either meaning, for example good, and immortal, and all expressions of like formation; for each of these terms, according as it is taken, is capable of indicating what does or what does not appertain to the Divine nature, so that, notwithstanding the formal change, our orthodox opinion in regard to the object remains immovably fixed. For it amounts to the same, whether we speak of God as unsusceptible of evil, or whether we call Him good; whether we confess that He is immortal, or say that He ever lives. For we understand no difference in the sense of these terms, but we signify one and the same thing by both, though the one may seem to convey the notion of affirmation, and the other of negation. And so again, when we speak of God as the First Cause of all things, or again, when we speak of Him as without cause, we are guilty of no contradiction in sense, declaring as we do by either name that God is the prime Ruler and First Cause of all. Accordingly when we speak of Him as without cause, and as Lord of all, in the former case we signify what does not attach to Him, in the latter case what does; it being possible, as I have said, by a change of the things signified, to give an opposite sense to the words that express them, and to signify a property by a word which for the time takes a negative form, and vice versa. For it is allowable, instead of saying that He Himself has no primal cause, to describe Him as the First Cause of all, and again, instead of this, to hold that He alone exists ungenerately, so that while the words seem by the formal change to be at variance with each other, the sense remains one and the same. For the object to be aimed at, in questions respecting God, is not to produce a dulcet and melodious harmony of words, but to work out an orthodox formula of thought, whereby a worthy conception of God may be ensured. Since, then, it is only orthodox to infer that He Who is the First Cause of all is Himself without cause, if this opinion is established, what further contention of words remains for men of sense and judgment, when every word whereby such a notion is conveyed to us has the same signification? For whether you say that He is the First Cause and Principle of all, or speak of Him as without origin, whether you speak of Him as of ungenerate or eternal subsistence, as the Cause of all or as alone without cause, all these words are, in a manner, of like force, and equivalent to one another, as far as the meaning of the things signified is concerned; and it is mere folly to contend for this or that vocal intonation, as if orthodoxy were a thing of sounds and syllables rather than of the mind. This view, then, has been carefully enunciated by our great master, whereby all whose eyes are not blindfolded by the veil of heresy may clearly see that, whatever be the nature of God, He is not to be apprehended by sense, and that He transcends reason, though human thought, busying itself with curious inquiry, with such help of reason as it can command, stretches out its hand and just touches His unapproachable and sublime nature, being neither keen-sighted enough to see clearly what is invisible, nor yet so far withheld from approach as to be unable to catch some faint glimpse of what it seeks to know. For such knowledge it attains in part by the touch of reason, in part from its very inability to discern it, finding that it is a sort of knowledge to know that what is sought transcends knowledge (for it has learned what is contrary to the Divine nature, as well as all that may fittingly be conjectured respecting it). Not that it has been able to gain full knowledge of that nature itself about which it reasons, but from the knowledge of those properties which are, or are not, inherent in it, this mind of man sees what alone can be seen, that that which is far removed from all evil, and is understood in all good, is altogether such as I should pronounce ineffable and incomprehensible by human reason.

Although our great teacher has removed all unworthy ideas about the Divine nature and has urged and taught everything that may be reverently and properly believed concerning it—namely, that the First Cause is neither something corruptible nor something brought into existence through any kind of birth, but rather stands outside the range of every such conception, and that by denying what is not inherent in God and affirming what may be reverently conceived as inherent in Him, we can best understand what He is—this fierce opponent of the truth nevertheless opposes these teachings and hopes that the impressive-sounding word "ungeneracy" will provide a clear definition of the ousia of God.

But although our great master has thus cleared away all unworthy notions respecting the Divine nature, and has urged and taught all that may be reverently and fittingly held concerning it, viz. that the First Cause is neither a corruptible thing, nor one brought into being by any birth, but that it is outside the range of every conception of the kind; and that from the negation of what is not inherent, and the affirmation of what may be with reverence conceived to be inherent therein, we may best apprehend what He is — nevertheless this vehement adversary of the truth opposes these teachings, and hopes with the sounding word ungeneracy to supply a clear definition of the essence of God.

Anyone who has paid attention to how words are used can clearly see that the word incorruption uses its negative prefix to indicate that neither corruption nor birth belongs to God—just as many other words formed in the same way indicate the absence of something that is not present rather than the presence of something that is. For example: harmless, painless, guileless, undisturbed, passionless, sleepless, undiseased, impossible, unblamable, and similar words. All these terms truly apply to God and provide a kind of list and inventory of evil qualities from which God is separate. However, the terms we use give no positive description of that to which they are applied. We learn from them what something is not, but the force of these words does not tell us what it actually is. For example, if someone wanting to describe the nature of man were to say that it is not lifeless, not insentient, not winged, not four-footed, not amphibious, he would not be indicating what it is—he would simply be declaring what it is not, and he would be no more making false statements about man than he would be positively defining his subject. In the same way, from the many things that are said of the Divine nature, we learn the conditions under which we may conceive of God as existing, but such statements do not tell us what He is essentially.

And yet it is plain to every one who has given any attention to the uses of words, that the word incorruption denotes by the privative particle that neither corruption nor birth appertains to God: just as many other words of like formation denote the absence of what is not inherent rather than the presence of what is; e.g. harmless, painless, guileless, undisturbed, passionless, sleepless, undiseased, impossible, unblamable, and the like. For all these terms are truly applicable to God, and furnish a sort of catalogue and muster of evil qualities from which God is separate. Yet the terms employed give no positive account of that to which they are applied. We learn from them what it is not; but what it is, the force of the words does not indicate. For if some one, wishing to describe the nature of man, were to say that it is not lifeless, not insentient, not winged, not four-footed, not amphibious, he would not indicate what it is: he would simply declare what it is not, and he would be no more making untrue statements respecting man than he would be positively defining his subject. In the same way, from the many things which are predicated of the Divine nature, we learn under what conditions we may conceive God as existing, but what He is essentially, such statements do not inform us.

While we carefully avoid any agreement with absurd ideas in our thinking about God, we allow ourselves to use many different names for Him, adapting them to our perspective. Since no suitable word has been found to express the Divine nature, we address God by many names, each adding something new to our understanding of Him through some distinctive feature—thus seeking through variety of terminology to gain some glimpses toward comprehending what we seek. For when we question and examine ourselves about what God is, we express our conclusions in various ways: that He is the one who presides over the system and operation of all things that exist, that His existence has no cause while He is the Cause of existence for everything else; that He is the one who has no generation or beginning, no corruption, no turning backward, no diminution of supremacy; that He is the one in whom evil finds no place, and from whom no good is absent.

While, however, we strenuously avoid all concurrence with absurd notions in our thoughts of God, we allow ourselves in the use of many diverse appellations in regard to Him, adapting them to our point of view. For whereas no suitable word has been found to express the Divine nature, we address God by many names, each by some distinctive touch adding something fresh to our notions respecting Him — thus seeking by variety of nomenclature to gain some glimmerings for the comprehension of what we seek. For when we question and examine ourselves as to what God is, we express our conclusions variously, as that He is that which presides over the system and working of the things that are, that His existence is without cause, while to all else He is the Cause of being; that He is that which has no generation or beginning, no corruption, no turning backward, no diminution of supremacy; that He is that in which evil finds no place, and from which no good is absent.

And if anyone wanted to distinguish such concepts using words, they would find it absolutely necessary to call that which cannot change for the worse unchanging and invariable, and to call the First Cause of all things ungenerate, and that which cannot be corrupted incorruptible; and that which has no ending immortal and never failing; and that which rules over all things Almighty. And so, forming names for all other divine attributes in accordance with reverent conceptions of Him, we designate them now by one name, now by another, according to our varying lines of thought, such as power, or strength, or goodness, or ungeneracy, or perpetuity.

And if any one would distinguish such notions by words, he would find it absolutely necessary to call that which admits of no changing to the worse unchanging and invariable, and to call the First Cause of all ungenerate, and that which admits not of corruption incorruptible; and that which ceases at no limit immortal and never failing; and that which presides over all Almighty. And so, framing names for all other Divine attributes in accordance with reverent conceptions of Him, we designate them now by one name, now by another, according to our varying lines of thought, as power, or strength, or goodness, or ungeneracy, or perpetuity.

I say, then, that people have the right to construct words in this way, adapting their names to fit their subject according to each person's judgment. There is no absurdity in this, despite what our opponent pretends, reacting with horror as if to some frightening monster. We are fully justified in permitting the use of such new applications of words with respect to all things that can be named, including God Himself.

I say, then, that men have a right to such word-building, adapting their appellations to their subject, each man according to his judgment; and that there is no absurdity in this, such as our controversialist makes a pretence of, shuddering at it as at some gruesome hobgoblin, and that we are fully justified in allowing the use of such fresh applications of words in respect to all things that can be named, and to God Himself.

For God is not an expression, and He doesn't have His essence in voice or utterance. Rather, God is in Himself what He is also believed to be, but He is named by those who call upon Him not according to what He is essentially (for the physis of Him Who alone exists is unspeakable), but He receives His names from what are believed to be His operations in regard to our life. To take a ready example: when we speak of Him as God, we call Him this because we regard Him as overlooking and surveying all things, and seeing through the things that are hidden. But if His essence exists before His works, and we understand His works by our senses, and express them in words as best we can, why should we be afraid of calling things by words that came into use later than the things themselves? For if we wait to interpret any of God's attributes until we understand them, and we understand them only by what His works teach us, and if His power comes before its exercise and depends on the will of God, while His will resides in the spontaneity of the Divine physis, are we not clearly taught that the words which represent things came into existence later than the things themselves, and that the words which are framed to express the operations of things are reflections of the things themselves? And that this is so, we are clearly taught by Holy Scripture, through the mouth of great David, when, using certain peculiar and appropriate names derived from his contemplation of God's works, he speaks of the Divine physis in this way: The Lord is full of compassion and mercy, long-suffering, and of great goodness. Now what do these words tell us? Do they indicate His operations, or His physis? No one will say that they indicate anything but His operations. At what time, then, after showing mercy and pity, did God acquire His name from their display? Was it before human life began? But who was there to be the object of pity? Was it, then, after sin entered into the world? But sin entered after man. The exercise, therefore, of pity, and the name itself, came after man. What then? Will our adversary, wise as he claims to be above the Prophets, convict David of error in applying names to God derived from his opportunities of knowing Him? Or, in contending with him, will he use against him the pretense in his stately passage as if from a tragedy, saying that David glorifies the most blessed life of God with names drawn from human imagination, whereas it glorified itself alone, long before men were born to imagine them? David's advocate will readily admit that the Divine physis glorified itself alone even before the existence of human imagination, but will contend that the human mind can speak only as much concerning God as its capacity, instructed by His works, will allow. For, as the Wisdom of Solomon says, by the greatness and beauty of the creatures proportionably the Maker of them is seen.

For God is not an expression, neither has He His essence in voice or utterance. But God is of Himself what also He is believed to be, but He is named, by those who call upon Him, not what He is essentially (for the nature of Him Who alone is is unspeakable), but He receives His appellations from what are believed to be His operations in regard to our life. To take an instance ready to our hand; when we speak of Him as God, we so call Him from regarding Him as overlooking and surveying all things, and seeing through the things that are hidden. But if His essence is prior to His works, and we understand His works by our senses, and express them in words as we are best able, why should we be afraid of calling things by words of later origin than themselves? For if we stay to interpret any of the attributes of God till we understand them, and we understand them only by what His works teach us, and if His power precedes its exercise, and depends on the will of God, while His will resides in the spontaneity of the Divine nature, are we not clearly taught that the words which represent things are of later origin than the things themselves, and that the words which are framed to express the operations of things are reflections of the things themselves? And that this is so, we are clearly taught by Holy Scripture, by the mouth of great David, when, as by certain peculiar and appropriate names, derived from his contemplation of the works of God, he thus speaks of the Divine nature: The Lord is full of compassion and mercy, long-suffering, and of great goodness. Now what do these words tell us? Do they indicate His operations, or His nature? No one will say that they indicate anything but His operations. At what time, then, after showing mercy and pity, did God acquire His name from their display? Was it before man's life began? But who was there to be the object of pity? Was it, then, after sin entered into the world? But sin entered after man. The exercise, therefore, of pity, and the name itself, came after man. What then? will our adversary, wise as he is above the Prophets, convict David of error in applying names to God derived from his opportunities of knowing Him? Or, in contending with him, will he use against him the pretence in his stately passage as out of a tragedy, saying that he glories in the most blessed life of God with names drawn from human imagination, whereas it gloried in itself alone, long before men were born to imagine them? The Psalmist's advocate will readily admit that the Divine nature gloried in itself alone even before the existence of human imagination, but will contend that the human mind can speak only so much in respect of God as its capacity, instructed by His works, will allow. For, as says the Wisdom of Solomon, by the greatness and beauty of the creatures proportionably the Maker of them is seen Wisdom 13:5.

But in applying such names to the Divine essence, which surpasses all understanding, we do not seek to glorify it by the names we use, but rather to guide ourselves by means of such terms toward comprehension of the things that are hidden. "I said to the Lord," says the Prophet, "You are my God, my goods are nothing unto You." How then are we glorifying the most blessed life of God, as this man claims, when (as the Prophet says) our goods are nothing unto Him? Does he perhaps take "call" to mean "glory in"? Yet those who use the latter word correctly, and who have been trained to use words with precision, tell us that the word "glory in" is never used for mere indication, but that this idea is expressed by such words as "to make known," "to show," "to indicate," or some other of that kind, whereas the word "glory in" means to be proud of, or delight in a thing, and the like. But he claims that by using names drawn from human imagination we glory in the blessed life. We hold, however, that adding any honor to the Divine nature, which is above all honor, is more than human weakness can do. At the same time we do not deny that we endeavor, by words and names devised with due reverence, to give some notion of its attributes. And so, carefully following the path of due reverence, we understand that the first cause is that which has its existence not from any cause superior to itself. This view, if one accepts it as true, is praiseworthy for its truth alone. But if one should judge it to be superior to other aspects of the Divine nature, and so should say that God, exulting and rejoicing in this alone, glories in it as of paramount excellence, one would find support only from the Muse by whom Eunomius is inspired, when he says that ungeneracy glories in itself, that which, mark you, he calls God's ousia, and styles the blessed and Divine life.

But in applying such appellations to the Divine essence, which passes all understanding, we do not seek to glory in it by the names we employ, but to guide our own selves by the aid of such terms towards the comprehension of the things which are hidden. I said to the Lord, says the Prophet, You are my God, my goods are nothing unto You. How then are we glorifying the most blessed life of God, as this man affirms, when (as says the Prophet) our goods are nothing unto Him? Is it that he takes call to mean glory in? Yet those who employ the latter word rightly, and who have been trained to use words with propriety, tell us that the word glory in is never used of mere indication, but that that idea is expressed by such words as to make known, to show, to indicate, or some other of the kind, whereas the word for glory in means to be proud of, or delight in a thing, and the like. But he affirms that by employing names drawn from human imagination we glory in the blessed life. We hold, however, that to add any honour to the Divine nature, which is above all honour, is more than human infirmity can do. At the same time we do not deny that we endeavour, by words and names devised with due reverence, to give some notion of its attributes. And so, following studiously in the path of due reverence, we apprehend that the first cause is that which has its subsistence not from any cause superior to itself. Which view, if so be one accepts it as true, is praiseworthy for its truth alone. But if one should judge it to be superior to other aspects of the Divine nature, and so should say that God, exulting and rejoicing in this alone, glories in it, as of paramount excellence, one would find support only from the Muse by whom Eunomius is inspired, when he says, that ungeneracy glories in itself, that which, mark you, he calls God's essence, and styles the blessed and Divine life.

But let us hear how, in the way he thinks most necessary, and in the form that came before (for with such rhythms he again offers us a sample of his stylistic flourishes)—let us hear, I say, how by such means he plans to refute the opinion people have formed of him, and to keep hidden the ignorance of those he has deceived. For I will use our verbose writer's own verbal patterns and phrasing. When, he says, we assert that words by which thought is expressed die as soon as they are uttered, we add that whether words are uttered or not, whether they exist yet or not, God was and is ungenerate. Let us learn, then, what connection there is between the conception or the formation of words, and the things which we signify by this or that mode of speech. Accordingly, if God is ungenerate before the creation of man, we must regard as insignificant the words which indicate that thought, since they are dispersed along with the sounds that express them, if such thought happens to be named according to human conception. For to be, and to be called, are not interchangeable terms. But God is by His nature what He is, yet He is called by us by such names as the poverty of our nature will allow us to use, since our nature is incapable of expressing thought except through voice and words. Accordingly, understanding Him to be without origin, we express that thought by the term ungenerate. And what harm is it to Him who truly is, that He should be named by us as we conceive Him to be? For His ungenerate existence is not the result of His being called ungenerate, but the name is the result of the existence. But this clever friend of ours fails to see this, nor does he take a clear view of his own positions. For if he did, he would certainly have stopped criticizing those who formed the word ungeneracy to express the idea in their minds. For look at what he says: Words so spoken perish as soon as they are spoken; but God both is and was ungenerate, both after the words were spoken and before. You see that the Supreme Being is what He is, before the creation of all things, whether spoken of or not, being what He is neither in greater nor in lesser degree; while the use of words and names was not devised until after the creation of man, endowed by God with the faculty of reason and speech.

But let us hear how, in the way most needed, and the form that preceded (for with such rhymes he again gives us a taste of the flowers of style), let us hear, I say, how by such means he proposes to refute the opinion formed of him, and to keep in the dark the ignorance of those whom he has deluded. For I will use our dithyrambist's own verbal inflections and phraseology. When, says he, we assert that words by which thought is expressed die as soon as they are uttered, we add that whether words are uttered or not, whether they are yet in existence or not, God was and is ungenerate. Let us learn, then, what connection there is between the conception or the formation of words, and the things which we signify by this or that mode of utterance. Accordingly, if God is ungenerate before the creation of man, we must esteem as of no account the words which indicate that thought, inasmuch as they are dispersed along with the sounds that express them, if such thought happen to be named after human notion. For to be, and to be called, are not convertible terms. But God is by His nature what He is, but He is called by us by such names as the poverty of our nature will allow us to make use of, which is incapable of enunciating thought except by means of voice and words. Accordingly, understanding Him to be without origin, we enunciate that thought by the term ungenerate. And what harm is it to Him Who indeed is, that He should be named by us as we conceive Him to be? For His ungenerate existence is not the result of His being called ungenerate, but the name is the result of the existence. But this our acute friend fails to see, nor does he take a clear view of his own positions. For if he did, he would certainly have left off reviling those who framed the word ungeneracy to express the idea in their minds. For look at what he says, Words so spoken perish as soon as they are spoken; but God both is and was ungenerate, both after the words were spoken and before. You see that the Supreme Being is what He is, before the creation of all things, whether silent or not, being what He is neither in greater nor in less degree; while the use of words and names was not devised till after the creation of man, endowed by God with the faculty of reason and speech.

If the creation came after its Creator, and humanity is the last thing in the order of creation, and if speech is a distinctive characteristic of humanity, and verbs and nouns are the component parts of speech, and ungeneracy is a noun, how does he not understand that he is fighting against his own arguments? For we say that human thought and intelligence have devised words that express the things they represent, and he admits that those who use speech are demonstrably later in time than the Divine life, and that the Divine physis is now, and always has been, without generation. If, then, he admits that the blessed life existed before humanity (for I return to that point), and we do not deny humanity's later creation, but maintain that we have used forms of speech ever since we came into being and received the faculty of reason from our Maker, and if ungeneracy is a word that expresses a particular idea, and every word is a part of human speech—it follows that whoever admits the Divine physis existed before humanity must at the same time admit that the name invented by humanity to express that physis was itself later in existence. For it was not likely that the use of speech should be exercised before the existence of creatures to use it, any more than farming should be exercised before the existence of farmers, or navigation before the existence of navigators, or in fact any of the occupations of life before life itself. Why, then, does he argue with us instead of following his premises to their logical conclusion?

If, then, the creation is of later date than its Creator, and man is the latest in the scale of creation, and if speech is a distinctive characteristic of man, and verbs and nouns are the component elements of speech, and ungeneracy is a noun, how is it that he does not understand that he is combating his own arguments? For we, on our side, say that by human thought and intelligence words have been devised expressive of things which they represent, and he, on his side, allows that those who employ speech are demonstrably later in point of time than the Divine life, and that the Divine nature is now, and ever has been, without generation. If, then, he allows the blessed life to be anterior to man (for to that point I return), and we do not deny man's later creation, but contend that we have used forms of speech ever since we came into being and received the faculty of reason from our Maker, and if ungeneracy is a word expressive of a special idea, and every word is a part of human speech — it follows that he who admits that the Divine nature was anterior to man must at the same time admit that the name invented by man to express that nature was itself later in being. For it was not likely that the use of speech should be exercised before the existence of creatures to use it, any more than that farming should be exercised before the existence of farmers, or navigation before that of navigators, or in fact any of the occupations of life before that of life itself. Why, then, does he contend with us, instead of following his premises to their legitimate conclusion?

He says that God was what He is before the creation of humanity. We don't deny this. For whatever we conceive of God existed before the creation of the world. But we maintain that it received its name after the one who names came into being. Here's why: if we use words so they can teach us about the things they signify, and if only ignorance requires teaching, while the Divine Nature comprehends all knowledge and is above all teaching, then it follows that names were invented to denote the Supreme Being not for His sake, but for ours. For He did not attach the term "ungeneracy" to His nature so that He Himself might be instructed. He who knows all things has no need of syllables and words to instruct Him about His own nature and majesty.

He says that God was what He is, before the creation of man. Nor do we deny it. For whatsoever we conceive of God existed before the creation of the world. But we maintain that it received its name after the namer came into being. For if we use words for this purpose, that they may supply us with teaching about the things which they signify, and it is ignorance alone that requires teaching, while the Divine Nature, as comprehending all knowledge, is above all teaching, it follows that names were invented to denote the Supreme Being, not for His sake, but for our own. For He did not attach the term ungeneracy to His nature in order that He Himself might be instructed. For He Who knows all things has no need of syllables and words to instruct Him as to His own nature and majesty.

In order for us to gain some understanding of what may reverently be thought about Him, we have marked our different ideas with certain words and syllables, labeling our mental processes with verbal formulas that serve as distinctive signs and indicators. Our goal is to give a clear and straightforward declaration of our mental processes by means of words that are attached to and express our ideas. Why, then, does he criticize our claim that the term ungeneracy was devised to indicate that God exists without origin or beginning, and that—independently of all speech, silence, or thought, and before the very idea of creation—God was and remains ungenerate? If someone were to argue that God was not ungenerate until the name ungeneracy had been found, then perhaps he might be excused for writing as he has written against such an absurdity. But if no one denies that God existed before speech and reason, and while we say the form of words by which the meaning is expressed was devised by mental conception, what is the point of his controversy with us? His aim is to show that the name is not a human invention, but that it existed before our creation, though I do not know by whom it was spoken. What does the assertion that God existed ungenerately before all things, and the claim that mental conception is posterior to God, have to do with this aim of his? For it has been fully demonstrated that God is not a conception, so we may press him with the same sort of argument and reply, so to speak, in his own words: It is utter folly to regard understanding as existing before those who exercise it; or again, as he proceeds a little below, Nor as though we intended this—to make men, the latest of God's works of creation, anterior to the conceptions of their own understanding. The argument would indeed have great force if any one of us, out of sheer folly and madness, were to argue that God was a conception of the mind. But if this is not so, nor ever has been (for who would go to such an extreme of folly as to assert that He who alone exists, and who brought all else whatsoever into being, has no substantial existence of His own, and to make Him out to be a mere conception of a name?)—why does he fight with shadows, contending with imaginary propositions? Is not the cause of this unreasonable litigiousness clear? Feeling ashamed of the fallacy concerning ungeneracy with which his dupes have been deluded (since it has been proved that the word is very far removed from the Divine essence), he is deliberately shuffling up his arguments, shifting the controversy from words to things, so that by throwing everything into confusion the unwary may more easily be seduced into imagining that we have described God either as a conception or as posterior in existence to the invention of human terminology. Thus, leaving our argument unrefuted, he is shifting his position to another quarter of the field. For our conclusion was, as I have said, that the term ungeneracy does not indicate the Divine nature, but is applicable to it as the result of a conception by which the fact that God subsists without prior cause is pointed at. But what they were trying to establish was this: that the word was indicative of the Divine essence itself. Yet how has it been established that the word has this force? I suppose the handling of this question is reserved for some other of his writings. But here he makes it his main object to show that God exists ungenerately, just as though someone were simply questioning him on such points as these—what view he held about the term ungenerate, whether he thought it was invented to show that the First Cause was without beginning and origin, or as declaring the Divine essence itself. And he, with much assumption of gravity and wisdom, were replying that he, for his part, had no doubt that God was the Maker of heaven and earth. How widely this method of proceeding differs from, and is unconnected with, his first contention, you may see, in the same way as you may see how little his fine description of his controversy with us is connected with the question at issue. For let us look at the matter in this way.

But that we might gain some sort of comprehension of what with reverence may be thought respecting Him, we have stamped our different ideas with certain words and syllables, labelling, as it were, our mental processes with verbal formulæ to serve as characteristic notes and indications, with the object of giving a clear and simple declaration of our mental processes by means of words attached to, and expressive of, our ideas. Why, then, does he find fault with our contention that the term ungeneracy was devised to indicate the existence of God without origin or beginning, and that, independently of all exercise of speech, or silence, or thought, and before the very idea of creation, God was and remains ungenerate? If, indeed, any one should argue that God was not ungenerate till the name ungeneracy had been found, the man might be pardonable for writing as he has written, in contravention of such an absurdity. But if no one denies that He existed before speech and reason, whereas, while the form of words by which the meaning is expressed is said by us to have been devised by mental conception, the end and aim of his controversy with us is to show that the name is not of man's device, but that it existed before our creation, though by whom it was spoken I do not know, what has the assertion that God existed ungenerately before all things, and the contention that mental conception is posterior to God, got to do with this aim of his? For that God is not a conception has been fully demonstrated, so that we may press him with the same sort of argument, and reply, so to say, in his own words, e.g. It is utter folly to regard understanding as of earlier birth than those who exercise it; or again, as he proceeds a little below, Nor as though we intended this, i.e. to make men, the latest of God's works of creation, anterior to the conceptions of their own understanding. Great indeed would be the force of the argument, if any one of us, out of sheer folly and madness, should argue that God was a conception of the mind. But if this is not so, nor ever has been, (for who would go to such a pitch of folly as to assert that He Who alone is, and Who brought all else whatsoever into being, has no substantial existence of His own, and to make Him out to be a mere conception of a name?) why does he fight with shadows, contending with imaginary propositions? Is not the cause of this unreasonable litigiousness clear, that, feeling ashamed of the fallacy respecting ungeneracy with which his dupes have been deluded (since it has been proved that the word is very far removed from the Divine essence), he is deliberately shuffling up his arguments, shifting the controversy from words to things, so that by throwing all into confusion the unwary may more easily be seduced, by imagining that God has been described by us either as a conception, or as posterior in existence to the invention of human terminology; and thus, leaving our argument unrefuted, he is shifting his position to another quarter of the field? For our conclusion was, as I have said, that the term ungeneracy does not indicate the Divine nature, but is applicable to it as the result of a conception by which the fact that God subsists without prior cause is pointed at. But what they were for establishing was this: that the word was indicative of the Divine essence itself. Yet how has it been established that the word has this force? I suppose the handling of this question is in reserve in some other of his writings. But here he makes it his main object to show that God exists ungenerately, just as though some one were simply questioning him on such points as these — what view he held as to the term ungenerate, whether he thought it invented to show that the First Cause was without beginning and origin, or as declaring the Divine essence itself; and he, with much assumption of gravity and wisdom, were replying that he, for his part, had no doubt that God was the Maker of heaven and earth. How widely this method of proceeding differs from, and is unconnected with, his first contention, you may see, in the same way as you may see how little his fine description of his controversy with us is connected with the question at issue. For let us look at the matter in this wise.

They say that God is ungenerate, and we agree with this. But we take exception to the claim that ungeneracy itself constitutes the Divine essence. For we maintain that this term describes God's ungenerate subsistence, but not that ungeneracy is God. But what is the nature of his refutation? It is this: that before humanity's creation God existed ungenerately. But what does this have to do with the point he promises to establish, that the term and its Subject are identical? For he asserts that ungeneracy is the Divine essence. But what kind of fulfillment of his promise is it to show that God existed before beings capable of speech? What a wonderful, what an irresistible demonstration! What perfection of logical refinement! Who that has not been initiated in the mysteries of this fearsome craft may venture to confront it? Yet in listing the meanings of the term conception, he makes a mockery of it. For, he says, of words used to express a conception of the mind, some exist only in pronunciation, such as those which signify nonentity, while others have their distinct meaning. Of these, some have an amplifying function, as in the case of colossal things, others a diminishing function, as in the case of tiny things, others a multiplying function, as in the case of many-headed monsters, others a combining function, as in the case of centaurs. After reducing the force of the term conception to its lowest value in this way, our clever friend will allow it, you see, no further extension. He says that it is without sense and meaning, that it imagines the unnatural, either contracting or extending the limits of nature, or putting incompatible notions together, or playing tricks with strange and monstrous combinations.

They say that God is ungenerate, and in this we agree. But that ungeneracy itself constitutes the Divine essence, here we take exception. For we maintain that this term is declarative of God's ungenerate subsistence, but not that ungeneracy is God. But of what nature is his refutation? It is this: that before man's creation God existed ungenerately. But what has this to do with the point which he promises to establish, that the term and its Subject are identical? For he lays it down that ungeneracy is the Divine essence. But what sort of a fulfilment of his promise is it, to show that God existed before beings capable of speech? What a wonderful, what an irresistible demonstration! What perfection of logical refinement! Who that has not been initiated in the mysteries of the awful craft may venture to look it in the face? Yet in particularizing the meanings of the term conception, he makes a solemn travesty of it. For, says he, of words used to express a conception of the mind, some exist only in pronunciation, as for instance those which signify nonentity, while others have their peculiar meaning; and of these some have an amplifying force, as in the case of things colossal, others a diminishing, as in that of pigmies, others a multiplying, as in that of many-headed monsters, others a combinative, as in that of centaurs. After thus reducing the force of the term conception to its lowest value, our clever friend will allow it, you see, no further extension. He says that it is without sense and meaning, that it fancies the unnatural, either contracting or extending the limits of nature, or putting heterogeneous notions together, or juggling with strange and monstrous combinations.

With such mockery of the term conception, he shows, as well as he can, that it is useless and unprofitable for human life. What, then, was the origin of our higher branches of learning—of geometry, arithmetic, the logical and physical sciences, of the inventions of mechanical art, of the marvels of measuring time by the bronze sundial and the water-clock? What, again, of ontology, of the science of ideas, in short of all intellectual inquiry as applied to great and sublime subjects? What of agriculture, of navigation, and of the other activities of human life? How does the sea become a highway for humanity? How are things of the air brought into the service of things of the earth, wild things tamed, objects of terror brought under control, animals stronger than ourselves made obedient to the rein? Have not all these benefits to human life been achieved by conception? For, according to my understanding of it, conception is the method by which we discover things that are unknown, advancing to further discoveries by means of what is connected to and follows from our first perception regarding the thing being studied. For when we have formed some idea of what we seek to know, by fitting what follows to the first result of our discoveries, we gradually lead our investigation to the end of our intended research.

With such gibes at the term conception, he shows, to the best of his ability, that it is useless and unprofitable for the life of man. What, then, was the origin of our higher branches of learning, of geometry, arithmetic, the logical and physical sciences, of the inventions of mechanical art, of the marvels of measuring time by the brazen dial and the water-clock? What, again, of ontology, of the science of ideas, in short of all intellectual speculation as applied to great and sublime objects? What of agriculture, of navigation, and of the other pursuits of human life? How comes the sea to be a highway for man? How are things of the air brought into the service of things of the earth, wild things tamed, objects of terror brought into subjection, animals stronger than ourselves made obedient to the rein? Have not all these benefits to human life been achieved by conception? For, according to my account of it, conception is the method by which we discover things that are unknown, going on to further discoveries by means of what adjoins to and follows from our first perception with regard to the thing studied. For when we have formed some idea of what we seek to know, by adapting what follows to the first result of our discoveries we gradually conduct our inquiry to the end of our proposed research.

But why list all the greater and more impressive achievements of this faculty? Anyone who is not hostile to the truth can see for himself that everything else that time has brought forth for the service and benefit of human life has been discovered by no other means than through conception. And it seems to me that anyone who judged this faculty more valuable than any other ability we have been given in this life by Divine Providence would not be far off in his judgment. In saying this I have the support of Job's teaching, where he shows God answering His servant from the whirlwind and the clouds, saying both other things fitting for Him to say, and that it is He who has placed man over the arts, and given to woman her skill in weaving and embroidery.

But why enumerate the greater and more splendid results of this faculty? For every one who is not unfriendly to truth can see for himself that all else that Time has discovered for the service and benefit of human life, has been discovered by no other instrumentality than that of conception. And it seems to me, that any one who should judge this faculty more precious than any other with the exercise of which we are gifted in this life by Divine Providence would not be far mistaken in his judgment. And in saying this I am supported by Job's teaching, where he represents God as answering His servant by the tempest and the clouds, saying both other things meet for Him to say, and that it is He Who has set man over the arts, and given to woman her skill in weaving and embroidery.

No one whose nature isn't completely animal and brutish would deny that He didn't teach us such things through some visible operation, with Himself directly overseeing the work, as we see in matters of physical instruction. But it has been said that our first knowledge of such arts comes from Him, and if this is true, then surely He who gave our nature this faculty of conceiving and discovering the objects of our investigation was Himself our guide to these arts. By the law of causation, whatever is discovered and established through conception must be attributed to Him who is the author of that faculty. For example, human life invented the art of healing, but someone would still be right to claim that this art is a gift from God. Whatever discovery has been made in human life that serves any useful purpose in peace or war came to us from nowhere else but from an intelligence that conceives and discovers according to our various needs, and that intelligence is a gift of God. We owe everything that intelligence provides us to God. I don't deny the objection made by our opponents that lying wonders are also fabricated by this faculty. Their argument on this point actually supports our side. We too assert that the knowledge of opposites is the same, whether beneficial or harmful—for example, in the arts of healing and navigation, and so on. Someone who knows how to cure the sick with medicines will also know, if he were to turn his art to an evil purpose, how to mix some deadly ingredient into the food of healthy people. Someone who can steer a boat with its rudder into port can also steer it toward a reef or rock if he wants to destroy those on board. A painter, using the same art by which he depicts the most beautiful form on canvas, could give us an exact representation of the ugliest form. Similarly, a wrestling-master, through the experience he has gained in physical training, can set a dislocated limb or, if he wishes, dislocate a healthy one. But why burden our argument by multiplying examples? Just as in the cases mentioned above no one would deny that someone who has learned to practice an art for right purposes can also misuse it for wrong ones, so we say that God implanted the faculty of thought and conception in human nature for good, but when people abuse it as an instrument of discovery, it often becomes the servant of harmful inventions. Although this faculty can give a plausible appearance to what is false and unreal, it is nonetheless capable of investigating what actually and truly exists (subsists), and its ability for one must fairly be regarded as evidence of its ability for the other.

Now that He did not teach us such things by some visible operation, Himself presiding over the work, as we may see in matters of bodily teaching, no one would gainsay whose nature is not altogether animal and brutish. But still it has been said that our first knowledge of such arts is from Him, and, if such is the case, surely He Who endowed our nature with such a faculty of conceiving and finding out the objects of our investigation was Himself our Guide to the arts. And by the law of causation, whatever is discovered and established by conception must be ascribed to Him Who is the Author of that faculty. Thus human life invented the Art of Healing, but nevertheless he would be right who should assert that Art to be a gift from God. And whatever discovery has been made in human life, conducive to any useful purposes of peace or war, came to us from no other quarter but from an intelligence conceiving and discovering according to our several requirements; and that intelligence is a gift of God. It is to God, then, that we owe all that intelligence supplies to us. Nor do I deny the objection made by our adversaries, that lying wonders also are fabricated by this faculty. For their contention as to this makes for our own side in the argument. For we too assert that the science of opposites is the same, whether beneficial or the reverse; e.g. in the case of the arts of healing and navigation, and so on. For he who knows how to relieve the sick by drugs will also know, if indeed he were to turn his art to an evil purpose, how to mix some deleterious ingredient in the food of the healthy. And he who can steer a boat with its rudder into port can also steer it for the reef or the rock, if minded to destroy those on board. And the painter, with the same art by which he depicts the fairest form on his canvas, could give us an exact representation of the ugliest. So, too, the wrestling-master, by the experience which he has gained in anointing, can set a dislocated limb, or, should he wish to do so, dislocate a sound one. But why encumber our argument by multiplying instances? As in the above-mentioned cases no one would deny that he who has learned to practise an art for right purposes can also abuse it for wrong ones, so we say that the faculty of thought and conception was implanted by God in human nature for good, but, with those who abuse it as an instrument of discovery, it frequently becomes the handmaid of pernicious inventions. But although it is thus possible for this faculty to give a plausible shape to what is false and unreal, it is none the less competent to investigate what actually and in very truth subsists, and its ability for the one must in fairness be regarded as an evidence of its ability for the other.

When someone sets out to frighten or captivate an audience, they need abundant imaginative power to achieve such a goal, and they should present to spectators monsters with many hands, many heads, or breathing fire, or people wrapped in serpent coils, or they should seem to make their size increase or stretch their natural dimensions to absurd proportions, or they should describe people transformed into springs and trees and birds—a kind of storytelling that appeals to those who enjoy such things. All this is the clearest proof that it is possible to reach higher knowledge through this creative faculty as well.

For that one who proposes to himself to terrify or charm an audience should have plenty of conception to effect such a purpose, and should display to the spectators many-handed, many-headed, or fire-breathing monsters, or men enfolded in the coils of serpents, or that he should seem to increase their stature, or enlarge their natural proportions to a ridiculous extent, or that he should describe men metamorphosed into fountains and trees and birds, a kind of narrative which is not without its attraction for such as take pleasure in things of that sort — all this, I say, is the clearest of demonstrations that it is possible to arrive at higher knowledge also by means of this inventive faculty.

For it is not the case that while the intelligence given to us by the Giver is fully capable of imagining things that do not exist, it has no ability at all to provide us with things that may benefit us. Just as the impulsive and elective faculty of the soul is established in our nature to direct us toward what is good and noble—though a person may also misuse it for what is evil—and no one can claim that because the elective faculty sometimes inclines toward evil it never inclines toward what is good, so the tendency of conception toward what is vain and unprofitable does not prove its inability for what is profitable. On the contrary, it demonstrates that it is not useless for what is beneficial and necessary to the mind. For just as in one case it discovers ways to produce pleasure or terror, so in the other it does not fail to find ways of arriving at truth. Now one of the questions we investigate is whether the First Cause, namely God, exists without beginning, or whether His existence depends on some beginning. But perceiving through thought that what we conceive as the consequence of something else cannot be a First Cause, we created a word to express such an idea, and we say that He who is without prior cause exists without origin, or, so to speak, ungenerately. And Him who exists in this way we call ungenerate and without origin, indicating by that name not what He is, but what He is not.

For it is not the case that, while the intelligence implanted in us by the Giver is fully competent to conjure up non-realities, it is endowed with no faculty at all for providing us with things that may profit us. But as the impulsive and elective faculty of the soul is established in our nature, to incite us to what is good and noble, though a man may also abuse it for what is evil, and no one can call the fact that the elective faculty sometimes inclines to evil a proof that it never inclines to what is good — so the bias of conception towards what is vain and unprofitable does not prove its inability for what is profitable, but, on the contrary, is a demonstration of its not being unserviceable for what is beneficial and necessary to the mind. For as, in the one case, it discovers means to produce pleasure or terror, so, in the other, it does not fail to find ways for getting at truth. Now one of the objects of inquiry was whether the First Cause, viz. God, exists without beginning, or whether His existence is dependent on some beginning. But perceiving, by the aid of thought, that that cannot be a First Cause which we conceive of as the consequence of another, we devised a word expressive of such a notion, and we say that He who is without anterior cause exists without origin, or, so to say, ungenerately. And Him Who so exists we call ungenerate and without origin, indicating, by that appellation, not what He is, but what He is not.

But to make this idea as clear as possible, I will try to illustrate it with an even simpler example. Let us suppose we are asking about some tree, whether it is cultivated or wild. If it is the former, we call it planted; if the latter, not planted. Such a term accurately describes the truth, for the tree must necessarily be one way or the other. Yet the word does not indicate the particular physis of the plant. From the term "not-planted" we learn that it grows spontaneously, but whether what is thus signified is a plane tree, a vine, or some other such plant, the name applied to it does not tell us.

But as far as possible to elucidate the idea, I will endeavour to illustrate it by a still plainer example. Let us suppose the inquiry to be about some tree, whether it is cultivated or wild. If the former, we call it planted, if the latter, not planted. And such a term exactly hits the truth, for the tree must needs be after this manner or that. And yet the word does not indicate the peculiar nature of the plant. From the term not-planted we learn that it is of spontaneous growth; but whether what is thus signified is a plane, or a vine, or some other such plant, the name applied to it does not inform us.

This example being understood, it is time to move on to the thing it illustrates. We comprehend this much: that the First Cause has His existence from no prior cause. Accordingly, we call God ungenerate as existing ungenerately, putting this notion of ungeneracy into verbal form. We show by the force of the term that He is without origin or beginning. But this appellation does not lead us to discern what that Being is who exists ungenerately. Nor should it be supposed that the processes of conception could enable us to rise above the limits of our nature, open up the incomprehensible to our view, and allow us to grasp the knowledge of that which no knowledge can approach. Nevertheless, our adversary storms against our Master and tries to tear apart his teaching concerning the faculty of thought and conception. He derides what has been said, reveling as usual in the rattle of his jingling phraseology, and saying that he (Basil) shrinks from providing evidence concerning those things of which he presumes to be the interpreter. For, quoting certain of the Master's reflections on the faculty of conception, in which he shows that its exercise occurs not only with reference to vain and trivial objects but that it is competent to deal also with weightier matters, he brings Basil into court with the charge that his language follows pagan philosophy. Through his discussion about the grain, seed, and other food (in Genesis), he accuses Basil of circumscribing Divine Providence by not allowing that words were given to things by God, and of fighting in the ranks of the Atheists and taking arms against Providence. He charges that Basil admires the doctrines of the profane rather than the laws of God and ascribes to them the palm of wisdom, not having observed in the earliest of the sacred records that before the creation of man, the naming of fruit and seed are mentioned in Holy Writ.

This example being understood, it is time to go on to the thing which it illustrates. This much we comprehend, that the First Cause has His existence from no antecedent one. Accordingly, we call God ungenerate as existing ungenerately, reducing this notion of ungeneracy into verbal form. That He is without origin or beginning we show by the force of the term. But what that Being is which exists ungenerately, this appellation does not lead us to discern. Nor was it to be supposed that the processes of conception could avail to raise us above the limits of our nature, and open up the incomprehensible to our view, and enable us to compass the knowledge of that which no knowledge can approach. Nevertheless, our adversary storms at our Master, and tries to tear to pieces his teaching respecting the faculty of thought and conception, and derides what has been said, revelling as usual in the rattle of his jingling phraseology, and saying that he (Basil) shrinks from adducing evidence respecting those things of which he presumes to be the interpreter. For, quoting certain of the Master's speculations on the faculty of conception, in which he shows that its exercise finds place, not only in reference to vain and trivial objects, but that it is competent to deal also with weightier matters, he, by means of his speculation about the grain, and seed, and other food (in Genesis), brings Basil into court with the charge, that his language is a following of pagan philosophy, and that he is circumscribing Divine Providence, as not allowing that words were given to things by God, and that he is fighting in the ranks of the Atheists, and taking arms against Providence, and that he admires the doctrines of the profane rather than the laws of God, and ascribes to them the palm of wisdom, not having observed in the earliest of the sacred records, that before the creation of man, the naming of fruit and seed are mentioned in Holy Writ.

These are his charges against us—not exactly in his own words, since we have made changes necessary to smooth out the roughness and harshness of his writing style. So what is our answer to this careful defender of Divine Providence? He claims we are wrong because, while we don't deny that God created humanity as rational beings, we say that the invention of words came from the logical faculty God placed in human nature. This is the worst of his accusations, by which he charges our teacher of righteousness with going over to atheist beliefs, denounces him as joining and supporting their lawless group, and indeed accuses him of every terrible offense imaginable. Well then, let this corrector of our mistakes tell us: did God give names to the things He created? For this is what our new interpreter of the mysteries says: Before creating humanity, God named germ, and herb, and grass, and seed, and tree, and similar things, when by the word of His power He brought each of them into being. If he sticks to the bare letter, and in this way follows a Jewish approach, and has yet to learn that the Christian is a student not of the letter but of the Spirit (for the letter kills, says the Apostle, but the Spirit gives life 2 Corinthians 3:6), and quotes to us the bare literal reading as though God Himself spoke these words—if he believes this, that God used fluent speech in the manner of human beings, expressing His thoughts through voice and pronunciation—if he believes this, he cannot reasonably deny what logically follows. For our speech is produced by the speech organs: the windpipe, the tongue, the teeth, and the mouth, with air drawn in from outside and breath from within working together to produce sound. The windpipe, fitting into the throat like a flute, sends sound up from below; and the roof of the mouth, because of the empty space above extending to the nostrils, works like a musical instrument to give the voice volume from above. The cheeks also help with speech, contracting and expanding according to their structure, or pushing the voice through a narrow passage by various movements of the tongue, which works now with one part, now with another, making the sound that passes over it hard or soft by touching the teeth or palate. Moreover, the lips contribute significantly to the result, affecting the voice through their various distinct movements and helping to shape the words as they are spoken.

Such are his charges against us; not indeed his notions as expressed in his own phraseology, for we have made such alterations as were required to correct the ruggedness and harshness of his style. What, then, is our answer to this careful guardian of Divine Providence? He asserts that we are in error, because, while we do not deny man's having been created a rational being by God, we ascribe the invention of words to the logical faculty implanted by God in man's nature. And this is the bitterest of his accusations, whereby our teacher of righteousness is charged with deserting to the tenets of the Atheists, and is denounced as partaking with and supporting their lawless company, and indeed as guilty of all the most atrocious offenses. Well, then, let this corrector of our blunders tell us, did God give names to the things which He created? For so says our new interpreter of the mysteries: Before the creation of man God named germ, and herb, and grass, and seed, and tree, and the like, when by the word of His power He brought them severally into being. If, then, he abides by the bare letter, and so far Judaizes, and has yet to learn that the Christian is a disciple not of the letter but of the Spirit (for the letter kills, says the Apostle, but the Spirit gives life 2 Corinthians 3:6), and quotes to us the bare literal reading of the words as though God Himself pronounced them — if, I say, he believes this, that, after the similitude of men, God made use of fluency of speech, expressing His thoughts by voice and accent — if, I repeat, he believes this, he cannot reasonably deny what follows as its logical consequence. For our speech is uttered by the organs of speech, the windpipe, the tongue, the teeth, and the mouth, the inhalation of air from without and the breath from within working together to produce the utterance. For the windpipe, fitting into the throat like a flute, emits a sound from below; and the roof of the mouth, by reason of the void space above extending to the nostrils, like some musical instrument, gives volume from above to the voice. And the cheeks, too, are aids to speech, contracting and expanding in accordance with their structural arrangement, or propelling the voice through a narrow passage by various movements of the tongue, which it effects now with one part of itself now with another, giving hardness or softness to the sound which passes over it by contact with the teeth or with the palate. Again, the service of the lips contributes not a little to the result, affecting the voice by the variety of their distinctive movements, and helping to shape the words as they are uttered.

If God gives things their names, as our new interpreter of the Divine record assures us—naming seed, grass, tree, and fruit—He must necessarily have pronounced each of these words exactly as it is pronounced, that is, according to how the syllables are put together, some produced by the lips, others by the tongue, others by both. But if none of these words could be spoken except through the action of vocal organs producing each syllable and sound through some appropriate movement, he must necessarily attribute such organs to God and shape the Divine Being according to the requirements of speech. For each use of the vocal organs must have some form or other, and form is a bodily limitation. Furthermore, we know very well that all bodies are composite, but where you see composition you also see dissolution, and dissolution, as the concept implies, is the same thing as destruction. This, then, is the result of our opponent's victory over us: to show us the God of his imagination, whom he has fashioned through the name agennesia (ungeneracy)—speaking, to be sure, so that He will not lose His share in the invention of names, but equipped with vocal organs to utter them, and not without bodily nature to enable Him to use them (for you cannot conceive of actual speech in the abstract apart from a body), and gradually proceeding to the natural affections of the body—through the composite to dissolution, and so reaching His end in destruction.

If, then, God gives things their names as our new expositor of the Divine record assures us, naming germ, and grass, and tree, and fruit, He must of necessity have pronounced each of these words not otherwise than as it is pronounced; i.e. according to the composition of the syllables, some of which are sounded by the lips, others by the tongue, others by both. But if none of these words could be uttered, except by the operation of vocal organs producing each syllable and sound by some appropriate movement, he must of necessity ascribe the possession of such organs to God, and fashion the Divine Being according to the exigencies of speech. For each adaptation of the vocal organs must be in some form or other, and form is a bodily limitation. Further, we know very well that all bodies are composite, but where you see composition you see also dissolution, and dissolution, as the notion implies, is the same thing as destruction. This, then, is the upshot of our controversialist's victory over us; to show us the God of his imagining whom he has fashioned by the name ungeneracy — speaking, indeed, that He may not lose His share in the invention of names, but provided with vocal organs with which to utter them, and not without bodily nature to enable Him to employ them (for you cannot conceive of formal utterance in the abstract apart from a body), and gradually going on to the congenital affections of the body — through the composite to dissolution, and so finding His end in destruction.

This is the nature of this new-fangled deity, as can be deduced from the words of our new God-maker. But he takes his stand on the Scriptures and insists that Moses explicitly declares this when he says, "God said," adding His words: "Let there be light," and "Let there be a firmament," and "Let the waters be gathered together…and let the dry land appear," and "Let the earth bring forth," and "Let the waters bring forth," and whatever else is written in its proper sequence. Let us then examine the meaning of what is said. Who does not know, even if he is the simplest person, that there is a natural connection between hearing and speech, and that just as hearing cannot function when no one is speaking, so speech is ineffectual unless directed to hearing? If, then, he means literally that God said, let him also tell us to what hearing His words were addressed. Does he mean that He said them to Himself? If so, the commands He issues, He issues to Himself. Yet who will accept this interpretation—that God sits upon His throne prescribing what He Himself must do, and employing Himself as His minister to do His bidding? But even supposing one were to allow that it was not blasphemy to say this, who has any need of words and speech for himself, even among men? For everyone's own mental activity is sufficient to produce choice and will. But he will doubtless say that the Father held conversation with the Son. But what need of vocal utterance for that? For it is a property of bodily nature to signify the thoughts of the heart by means of words, which is why written characters equivalent to speech were invented for the expression of thought. For we express thought equally by speaking and by writing, but in the case of those who are not too far away we reach their hearing by voice, while we make our mind known to those who are at a distance by written characters. In the case of those present with us, we raise or lower the tones of our voice in proportion to their distance from us, and to those close by us we sometimes point out what they are to do simply by a nod. Such or such an expression of the eye is sufficient to convey our intention, or a movement of the hand is sufficient to signify our approval or disapproval of something going on. If, then, those who are confined by the body are able to make known the hidden workings of their minds to their neighbors even without voice, or speech, or written correspondence, and silence causes no hindrance to the conduct of business, can it be that in the case of the immaterial and intangible and, as Eunomius says, the Supreme and first Being, there is any need of words to indicate the thought of the Father and to make known His will to the Only-Begotten Son—words which, as he himself says, perish as soon as they are uttered? No one, I think, who has common sense will accept this as the truth, especially since all sound is poured forth into the air. For voice cannot be produced unless it takes form in air. Now, even they themselves must suppose some medium of communication between the speaker and the one to whom he speaks. For if there were no such medium, how could the voice travel from the speaker to the hearer? What, then, will they say is the medium or interval by which they divide the Father from the Son? Between bodies, indeed, there is an interval of atmospheric space, differing in its nature from the nature of human bodies. But God, who is intangible and without form and pure from all composition, in communicating His counsels with the Only-Begotten Son, who is similarly, or rather in the same manner, immaterial and without body—if He made His communication by voice, what medium would He have had through which the word, transmitted as in a current, might reach the ears of the Only-Begotten? For we need hardly stop to consider that God is not divisible into separate faculties of perception, as we are, whose perceptions separately apprehend their corresponding objects—for example, sight apprehends what may be seen, hearing what may be heard, so that touch does not taste, and hearing has no perception of odors and flavors, but each confines itself to that function to which it was appointed by nature, holding itself insensible, as it were, to those with which it has no natural correspondence, and incapable of experiencing the pleasure enjoyed by its neighboring sense. But with God it is otherwise. All in all, He is at once sight and hearing and knowledge—and there we stop, for it is not permitted us to ascribe the more animal perceptions to that refined nature. Still, we take a very low view of God and drag down the Divine to our own groveling standard if we suppose the Father speaking with His mouth and the Son's ear listening to His words. What, then, are we to suppose is the medium which conveys the Father's voice to the hearing of the Son? It must be created or uncreate. But we may not call it created, for the Word was before the creation of the world, and beside the Divine nature there is nothing uncreate. If, therefore, there was no creation then, and the Word spoken of in the cosmogony was older than creation, will he who maintains that speech and a voice are meant by the Word suggest what medium existed between the Father and the Son, whereby those words and sounds were expressed? For if a medium exists, it must necessarily exist in a nature of its own, so as to differ in nature both from the Father and the Son. Being, then, something necessarily different, it divides the Father and the Son from each other, as though inserted between the two. What, then, could it be? Not created, for creation is younger than the Word. Generated we have learned the Only-Begotten (and Him alone) to be. Except the Father, none is ungenerate. Therefore, truth obliges us to conclude that there is no medium between the Father and the Son. But where separation is not conceived, the closest connection is naturally implied. And what is so connected needs no medium for voice or speech. Now, by connected, I mean here what is in all respects inseparable. For in the case of a spiritual nature the term connection does not mean bodily connection, but the union and blending of spiritual with spiritual through identity of will. Accordingly, there is no divergence of will between the Father and the Son, but the image of goodness is after the Archetype of all goodness and beauty, and just as, if a man should look at himself in a mirror (for it is perfectly allowable to explain the idea by bodily illustrations), the copy will in all respects be conformed to the original, the shape of the man who is reflected being the cause of the shape on the glass, and the reflection making no independent movement or inclination unless commenced by the original, but, if it moves, moving along with it—in like manner we maintain that our Lord, the Image of the invisible God, is immediately and inseparably one with the Father in every movement of His will. If the Father wills anything, the Son who is in the Father knows the Father's will, or rather He is Himself the Father's will. For if He has in Himself all that is the Father's, there is nothing of the Father's that He cannot have. If, then, He has all things that are the Father's in Himself, or, say we rather, if He has the Father Himself, then, along with the Father and the things that are the Father's, He must necessarily have in Himself the whole of the Father's will. He needs not, therefore, to know the Father's will by word, being Himself the Word of the Father in the highest sense of the term. What, then, is the word that can be addressed to Him who is the Word indeed? And how can He who is the Word indeed require a second word for instruction?

Such is the nature of this new-fangled Deity, as deducible from the words of our new God-maker. But he takes his stand on the Scriptures, and maintains that Moses explicitly declares this, when he says, God said, adding His words, Let there be light, and, Let there be a firmament, and, Let the waters be gathered together…and let the dry land appear, and, Let the earth bring forth, and, Let the waters bring forth, and, whatsoever else is written in its order. Let us, then, examine the meaning of what is said. Who does not know, even if he be the merest simpleton, that there is a natural correlation between hearing and speech, and that, as it is impossible for hearing to discharge its function when no one is speaking, so speech is ineffectual unless directed to hearing? If, then, he means literally that God said, let him tell us also to what hearing His words were addressed. Does he mean that He said them to Himself? If so, the commands which He issues, He issues to Himself. Yet who will accept this interpretation, that God sits upon His throne prescribing what He Himself must do, and employing Himself as His minister to do His bidding? But even supposing one were to allow that it was not blasphemy to say this, who has any need of words and speech for himself, even though a man? For every one's own mental action suffices him to produce choice and volition. But he will doubtless say that the Father held converse with the Son. But what need of vocal utterance for that? For it is a property of bodily nature to signify the thoughts of the heart by means of words, whence also written characters equivalent to speech were invented for the expression of thought. For we declare thought equally by speaking and by writing, but in the case of those who are not too far distant we reach their hearing by voice, but declare our mind to those who are at a distance by written characters; and in the case of those present with us, in proportion to their distance from us, we raise or lower the tones of our voice, and to those close by us we sometimes point out what they are to do simply by a nod; and such or such an expression of the eye is sufficient to convey our determination, or a movement of the hand is sufficient to signify our approval or disapproval of something going on. If, then, those who are encompassed by the body are able to make known the hidden working of their minds to their neighbours, even without voice, or speech, or correspondence by means of letters, and silence causes no hindrance to the dispatch of business, can it be that in the case of the immaterial, and intangible, and, as Eunomius says, the Supreme and first Being, there is any need of words to indicate the thought of the Father and to make known His will to the Only-Begotten Son — words, which, as he himself says, are wont to perish as soon as they are uttered? No one, methinks, who has common sense will accept this as the truth, especially as all sound is poured forth into the air. For voice cannot be produced unless it takes consistence in air. Now, even they themselves must suppose some medium of communication between the speaker and him to whom he speaks. For if there were no such medium, how could the voice travel from the speaker to the hearer? What, then, will they say is the medium or interval by which they divide the Father from the Son? Between bodies, indeed, there is an interval of atmospheric space, differing in its nature from the nature of human bodies. But God, Who is intangible, and without form, and pure from all composition, in communicating His counsels with the Only-Begotten Son, Who is similarly, or rather in the same manner, immaterial and without body — if He made His communication by voice, what medium would He have had through which the word, transmitted as in a current, might reach the ears of the Only-Begotten? For we need hardly stop to consider that God is not separable into apprehensive faculties, as we are, whose perceptions separately apprehend their corresponding objects; e.g. sight apprehends what may be seen, hearing what may be heard, so that touch does not taste, and hearing has no perception of odours and flavours, but each confines itself to that function to which it was appointed by nature, holding itself insensible, as it were, to those with which it has no natural correspondence, and incapable of tasting the pleasure enjoyed by its neighbour sense. But with God it is otherwise. All in all, He is at once sight, and hearing, and knowledge; and there we stop, for it is not permitted us to ascribe the more animal perceptions to that refined nature. Still we take a very low view of God, and drag down the Divine to our own grovelling standard, if we suppose the Father speaking with His mouth, and the Son's ear listening to His words. What, then, are we to suppose is the medium which conveys the Father's voice to the hearing of the Son? It must be created or uncreate. But we may not call it created; for the Word was before the creation of the world: and beside the Divine nature there is nothing uncreate. If, therefore, there was no creation then, and the Word spoken of in the cosmogony was older than creation, will he, who maintains that speech and a voice are meant by the Word, suggest what medium existed between the Father and the Son, whereby those words and sounds were expressed? For if a medium exist, it must needs exist in a nature of its own, so as to differ in nature both from the Father and the Son. Being, then, something of necessity different, it divides the Father and the Son from each other, as though inserted between the two. What, then, could it be? Not created, for creation is younger than the Word. Generated we have learned the Only-begotten (and Him alone) to be. Except the Father, none is ungenerate. Truth, therefore, obliges us to the conclusion that there is no medium between the Father and the Son. But where separation is not conceived of the closest connection is naturally implied. And what is so connected needs no medium for voice or speech. Now, by connected, I mean here what is in all respects inseparable. For in the case of a spiritual nature the term connection does not mean corporeal connection, but the union and blending of spiritual with spiritual through identity of will. Accordingly, there is no divergence of will between the Father and the Son, but the image of goodness is after the Archetype of all goodness and beauty, and as, if a man should look at himself in a glass (for it is perfectly allowable to explain the idea by corporeal illustrations), the copy will in all respects be conformed to the original, the shape of the man who is reflected being the cause of the shape on the glass, and the reflection making no spontaneous movement or inclination unless commenced by the original, but, if it move, moving along with it — in like manner we maintain that our Lord, the Image of the invisible God, is immediately and inseparably one with the Father in every movement of His Will. If the Father will anything, the Son Who is in the Father knows the Father's will, or rather He is Himself the Father's will. For, if He has in Himself all that is the Father's, there is nothing of the Father's that He cannot have. If, then, He has all things that are the Father's in Himself, or, say we rather, if He has the Father Himself, then, along with the Father and the things that are the Father's, He must needs have in Himself the whole of the Father's will. He needs not, therefore, to know the Father's will by word, being Himself the Word of the Father, in the highest acceptation of the term. What, then, is the word that can be addressed to Him who is the Word indeed? And how can He Who is the Word indeed require a second word for instruction?

But it might be said that the Father's voice was addressed to the Holy Spirit. However, the Holy Spirit does not need instruction through speech either, for being God, as the Apostle says, He searches all things, even the deep things of God. So if God speaks any word, and all speech is directed to the ear, let those who claim that God expresses Himself in continuous discourse tell us what audience He was addressing. He does not need to address Himself. The Son has no need of instruction through words. The Holy Spirit searches even the deep things of God. Creation did not yet exist. To whom, then, was God's word directed?

But it may be said that the voice of the Father was addressed to the Holy Spirit. But neither does the Holy Spirit require instruction by speech, for being God, as says the Apostle, He searches all things, yea the deep things of God 1 Corinthians 2:10. If, then, God utters any word, and all speech is directed to the ear, let those who maintain that God expresses Himself in the language of continuous discourse, inform us what audience He addressed. Himself He needs not address. The Son has no need of instruction by words. The Holy Ghost searches even the deep things of God. Creation did not yet exist. To whom, then, was God's word addressed?

But, he says, the record of Moses does not lie, and from it we learn that God spoke. No! Nor is great David among those who lie, and he clearly says: "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament shows His handiwork. Day unto day utters speech, and night unto night shows knowledge." And after saying that the heavens and the firmament declare, and that day and night show knowledge and speech, he adds to what he has said that there is neither speech nor language, and that their voices are not heard. Yet how can such declaring and showing be anything other than words, and how is it that no voice addresses itself to the ear? Is the prophet contradicting himself, or is he stating an impossibility when he speaks of words without sound, and declaration without language, and announcement without voice? Or is there not rather the very perfection of truth in his teaching, which tells us, in the words I have quoted, that the declaration of the heavens and the word shouted forth by the day is no articulate voice or language of the lips, but is a revelation of the power of God to those who are capable of hearing it, even though no voice is heard?

But, says he, the record of Moses does not lie, and from it we learn that God spoke. No! nor is great David of the number of those who lie, and he expressly says; The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament shows His handy work. Day unto day utters speech, and night unto night shows knowledge; and after saying that the heavens and the firmament declare, and that day and that night shows knowledge and speech, he adds to what he has said, that there is neither speech nor language, and that their voices are not heard. Yet how can such declaring and showing forth be other than words, and how is it that no voice addresses itself to the ear? Is the prophet contradicting himself, or is he stating an impossibility, when he speaks of words without sound, and declaration without language, and announcement without voice? Or, is there not rather the very perfection of truth in his teaching, which tells us, in the words which I have quoted, that the declaration of the heavens, and the word shouted forth by the day, is no articulate voice nor language of the lips, but is a revelation of the power of God to those who are capable of hearing it, even though no voice be heard?

What, then, do we think of this passage? If we understand it, we may also understand what Moses means. Holy Scripture often uses physical illustrations to help us more clearly grasp what is being revealed, as appears to be the case in this passage from David. He teaches us through his words that none of the things that exist came to be by chance or accident, as some have imagined—that our world and everything in it was formed by random and unplanned combinations of basic elements, and that no Providence governs the world. Instead, we are taught that there is a cause behind the system and governance of the universe, on whom all nature depends, from whom it receives its origin and cause, toward whom it moves and inclines, and in whom it exists. And since, as the Apostle says, His eternal power and godhead are understood, being clearly seen through the creation of the world (Romans 1:20), all creation—and especially, as Scripture says, the order of the heavens—declares the wisdom of the Creator through the skill displayed in His works. This is what it seems to me David wants to communicate: the testimony of visible things to the fact that the worlds were made with wisdom and skill, and continue forever by the power of the one who rules over all. The very heavens, he says, by displaying the wisdom of the one who made them, practically shout aloud with a voice, and though they have no voice, they proclaim the wisdom of their Creator. We can hear what are like words teaching us: "O people, when you look at us and see our beauty and size, and this continual revolution with its well-ordered and harmonious motion, always working in the same direction and in the same way, turn your thoughts to the one who presides over our system, and from the beauty you see, imagine the beauty of the invisible Archetype. In us there is nothing without its Lord, nothing that moves by its own independent motion. Everything that appears or that can be understood about us depends on a Power who is beyond investigation and sublime." This is not given in spoken words, but through the things that are seen, and it plants in our minds knowledge of divine power more effectively than if speech proclaimed it with a voice. So then, just as the heavens declare though they do not speak, and the firmament shows God's handiwork yet requires no voice for this purpose, and the day utters speech though there is no speaking, and no one can say that Holy Scripture is in error—in the same way, since both Moses and David have one and the same Teacher, I mean the Holy Spirit, who says that the command came before the creation, we are not told that God is the Creator of words, but of things made known to us by what our words signify. For to prevent us from supposing that creation has no Lord and originated spontaneously, He says it was created by the Divine Being and is established in an orderly and connected system by Him. Now it would take considerable time to discuss the order in which Moses didactically records his historical summary about the creation of the world. Or if we did, each successive passage would serve to prove even more clearly how mistaken and empty our opponents' opinion is. But anyone who wishes may read what we have written on Genesis and judge whether our teaching or theirs is more reasonable.

What, then, do we think of this passage? For it may be that, if we understand it, we shall also understand the meaning of Moses. It often happens that Holy Scripture, to enable us more clearly to comprehend a matter to be revealed, makes use of a bodily illustration, as would seem to be the case in this passage from David, who teaches us by what he says that none of the things which are have their being from chance or accident, as some have imagined that our world and all that is therein was framed by fortuitous and undesigned combinations of first elements, and that no Providence penetrated the world. But we are taught that there is a cause of the system and government of the Universe, on Whom all nature depends, to Whom it owes its origin and cause, towards Whom it inclines and moves, and in Whom it abides. And since, as says the Apostle, His eternal power and godhead are understood, being clearly seen through the creation of the world Romans 1:20, therefore all creation and, before all, as says the Scripture, the system of the heavens, declare the wisdom of the Creator in the skill displayed by His works. And this is what it seems to me that he is desirous to set forth, viz. the testimony of the things which do appear to the fact that the worlds were framed with wisdom and skill, and abide for ever by the power of Him who is the Ruler over all. The very heavens, he says, in displaying the wisdom of Him Who made them, all but shout aloud with a voice, and, though without voice, proclaim the wisdom of their Creator. For we can hear as it were words teaching us: O men, when you gaze upon us and behold our beauty and magnitude, and this ceaseless revolution, with its well-ordered and harmonious motion, working in the same direction and in the same manner, turn your thoughts to Him Who presides over our system, and, by aid of the beauty which you see, imagine to yourselves the beauty of the invisible Archetype. For in us there is nothing without its Lord, nothing that moves of its own proper motion: but all that appears, or that is conceivable in respect to us, depends on a Power Who is inscrutable and sublime. This is not given in articulate speech, but by the things which are seen, and it instils into our minds the knowledge of Divine power more than if speech proclaimed it with a voice. As, then, the heavens declare, though they do not speak, and the firmament shows God's handy-work, yet requires no voice for the purpose, and the day utters speech, though there is no speaking, and no one can say that Holy Scripture is in error — in like manner, since both Moses and David have one and the same Teacher, I mean the Holy Spirit, Who says that the fiat went before the creation, we are not told that God is the Creator of words, but of things made known to us by the signification of our words. For, lest we should suppose the creation to be without its Lord, and spontaneously originated, He says that it was created by the Divine Being, and that it is established in an orderly and connected system by Him. Now it would be a work of time to discuss the order of what Moses didactically records in his historical summary respecting the creation of the world. Or (if we did) each second passage would serve to prove more clearly the erroneous and futile character of our adversaries' opinion. But whoever cares to do so may read what we have written on Genesis, and judge whether our teaching or theirs is the more reasonable.

But to return to the matter in question. We assert that the words "He said" do not imply voice and words on the part of God. Rather, the writer, in showing that God's power is concurrent with His will, makes the idea easier to grasp. Since all things were created by the will of God, and since it is the ordinary way of human beings to signify their will first of all by speech and then to bring their work into harmony with their will, and since the scriptural account of Creation is like an introduction for the learner into the knowledge of God, representing to our minds the power of the Divine Being through objects more readily accessible to our understanding (for sensible apprehension aids intellectual knowledge)—for this reason, Moses, by saying that God commanded all things to be, signifies to us the inciting power of His will. And by adding "and it was so," he shows that in the case of God there is no difference between will and performance. On the contrary, though the purposing initiates God's activity, the accomplishment keeps pace with the purpose, and the two are to be considered together and at once: the deliberate motion of the mind and the power that effects its purpose. For the idea of the Divine purpose and action leaves no conceivable interval between them. Rather, just as light is produced along with the kindling of fire, immediately coming out from it and shining forth along with it, in the same manner the existence of created things is an effect of the Divine will, but not posterior to it in time.

But to return to the matter in question. We assert that the words He said do not imply voice and words on the part of God; but the writer, in showing the power of God to be concurrent with His will, renders the idea more easy of apprehension. For since by the will of God all things were created, and it is the ordinary way of men to signify their will first of all by speech, and so to bring their work into harmony with their will, and the scriptural account of the Creation is the learner's introduction, as it were, to the knowledge of God, representing to our minds the power of the Divine Being by objects more ready to our comprehension (for sensible apprehension is an aid to intellectual knowledge), on this account, Moses, by saying that God commanded all things to be, signifies to us the inciting power of His will, and by adding, and it was so, he shows that in the case of God there is no difference between will and performance; but, on the contrary, that though the purposing initiates God's activity, the accomplishment keeps pace with the purpose, and that the two are to be considered together and at once, viz. the deliberate motion of the mind, and the power that effects its purpose. For the idea of the Divine purpose and action leaves no conceivable interval between them, but as light is produced along with the kindling of fire, at once coming out from it and shining forth along with it — in the same manner the existence of things created is an effect of the Divine will, but not posterior to it in time.

In the case of people who have natural practical abilities, we can distinguish between their capability and their actual performance. For instance, someone who knows the craft of shipbuilding is always a shipbuilder in terms of ability, but only operates as one when actually demonstrating that skill in work. With God it is different, because everything we can conceive of in Him is entirely work and action, with His will immediately passing over to its object. Just as the structure of the heavens testifies to the glory of their Creator and acknowledges Him who made them without needing a voice to do so, likewise anyone familiar with the Mosaic Scripture will see that God speaks of the world as His creation, having brought everything into being by the command of His will, and that He needs no words to make His mind known. Therefore, just as the person who heard the heavens declaring the glory of God did not look for formal speech on that occasion (because for those who can understand it, the universe speaks through what is being done, without regard or need for verbal explanation), so even if someone hears Moses describing how God gave order and arrangement to each part of Creation by name, that person should not suppose the prophet is speaking falsely, nor drag down the contemplation of sublime truths with lowly and degrading notions, thereby reducing God to a merely human standard and imagining that He directs His operations through the instrument of speech the way humans do. Rather, let His command mean His will only, and let the names of those created things simply indicate the reality of their coming into being. In this way one will learn these two things from what is recorded: first, that God made all things by His will, and second, that without any trouble or difficulty the Divine Will became physis (nature).

For the case is different from that of men endowed by nature with practical ability, where you may look at capability and execution apart from each other. For example, we say of a man who possesses the art of shipbuilding, that he is always a shipbuilder in respect of his ability to build ships, but that he operates only when he displays his skill in working. It is otherwise with God; for all that we can conceive as in Him is entirely work and action, His will passing over immediately to its object. As, then, the mechanism of the heavens testifies to the glory of their Creator and confesses Him Who made them, and needs no voice for the purpose, so on the other hand any one who is acquainted with the Mosaic Scripture will see that God speaks of the world as His creation, having brought the whole into being by the fiat of His will, and that He needs no words to make known His mind. As, then, he who heard the heavens declaring the glory of God looked not for set speech on the occasion (for, to those who can understand it, the universe speaks through the things which are being done, without regard or care for verbal explanation), so, even if any one hears Moses telling how God gave order and arrangement to each several part of Creation by name, let him not suppose the prophet to speak falsely, nor degrade the contemplation of sublime verities by mean and grovelling notions, thus, as it were, reducing God to a mere human standard, and supposing that after the manner of men he directs His operations by the instrumentality of speech; but let His fiat mean His will only, and let the names of those created things denote the mere reality of their coming into being. And thus he will learn these two things from what is recorded: (1) That God made all things by His will, and (2) that without any trouble or difficulty the Divine Will became nature.

But if someone interprets the phrase "God said" more literally, as proof that articulate speech was His creation, by the same logic he must understand "God saw" to mean that He did so using faculties of perception like ours, through physical organs of vision. Similarly, with "The Lord heard me and had mercy upon me," and again, "He smelled a sweet savour," and whatever other sensory expressions Scripture uses in reference to a head, foot, hand, eyes, fingers, or sandals belonging to God—taking all these in their plain literal meaning, he will present us with a deity shaped like a human being, modeled after what we see among ourselves. But if someone hearing that the heavens are the work of His fingers, that He has a strong hand and a mighty arm, and eyes and feet and sandals, draws from such words ideas worthy of God and does not degrade the concept of His pure nature by fleshly and sensory imaginings, it follows that on one hand he will regard the verbal utterances as indications of the Divine will, but on the other he will not conceive of them as articulate sounds. Rather, he will reason this way: the Creator of human reason has given us speech in proportion to the capacity of our nature, so that we might be able to express the thoughts of our minds; but to the extent that the Divine nature differs from ours, so great will be the degree of difference between our notions about it and its own inherent majesty and godhead. And just as our power compared with God's, and our life with His life, is as nothing, and all else that is ours compared with what is in Him is as nothing in comparison with Him, as the inspired Teaching says, so also our word compared with Him, Who is the Word indeed, is as nothing. For this word of yours was not in the beginning, but was created along with our nature, nor should it be regarded as having any reality of its own, but as our teacher Basil has said somewhere, it vanishes along with the sound of the voice, nor is any operation of the word discernible, but it has its existence in voice only, or in written characters. But the word of God is God Himself, the Word that was in the beginning and that abides forever, through Whom all things were and are, Who rules over all and has all power over the things in heaven and the things on earth, being Life and Truth and Righteousness and Light and all that is good, and upholding all things in being. Such, then, and so great being the word, as we understand it, of God, our opponent grants God, as some great thing, the power of language made up of nouns, verbs, and conjunctions, not perceiving that, just as He Who gave practical powers to our nature is not spoken of as fabricating each of their several results, but while He gave our nature its ability, it is by us that a house is constructed, or a bench, or a sword, or a plough, or whatever thing our life happens to need, each of which is our own work though it may be ascribed to Him Who is the author of our being and Who created our nature capable of every skill—so also our power of speech is the work of Him Who made our nature what it is, but the invention of each particular term needed to denote objects at hand is of our own devising. This is proved by the fact that many terms in use are of a base and unseemly character, of which no sensible person would conceive God the inventor. So if certain of our familiar expressions are ascribed by Holy Scripture to God as the speaker, we should remember that the Holy Spirit is addressing us in language of our own, just as in the history of the Acts we are told that each person received the teaching of the disciples in his own language in which he was born, understanding the sense of the words by the language he knew. And that this is true may be seen even more clearly by a careful examination of the enactments of the Levitical law. For they make mention of pans and cakes and fine flour and the like in the mystical sacrifices, instilling wholesome doctrine under the veil of symbol and enigma. Mention is also made of certain measures then in use, such as ephah and nebel and hin and the like. Are we then to suppose that God made these names and designations, or that in the beginning He commanded them to be such and to be so named, calling one kind of grain wheat, and its pith flour, and flat sweetmeats, whether heavy or light, cakes; and that He commanded a vessel of the kind in which a moist lump is boiled or baked to be called a pan, or that He spoke of a certain liquid measure by the name of hin or nebel, and measured dry produce by the homer? Surely it is trivial and mere Jewish folly, far removed from the grandeur of Christian simplicity, to think that God, Who is the Most High and above every name and thought, Who by sole virtue of His will governs the world which He brought into existence and upholds it in being, should set Himself like some schoolmaster to settle the fine points of terminology. Rather let us say that, just as we indicate to the deaf what we want them to do by gestures and signs, not because we have no voice of our own but because verbal communication would be utterly useless to those who cannot hear, so, inasmuch as human nature is in a sense deaf and insensible to higher truths, we maintain that the grace of God at various times and in various ways spoke by the Prophets, ordering their voices according to our capacity and the modes of expression with which we are familiar, and that by such means it leads us, as with a guiding hand, to the knowledge of higher truths, not teaching us in terms proportioned to their inherent sublimity (for how can the great be contained by the little?) but descending to the lower level of our limited comprehension. And just as God, after giving animals their power of motion, no longer prescribes each step they take, for their nature, having once for all taken its beginning from the Creator, moves of itself and makes its way, adapting its power of motion to its object from time to time (except insofar as it is said that a man's steps are directed by the Lord), so our nature, having received from God the power of speech and utterance and of expressing the will by the voice, proceeds on its way through things, giving them distinctive names by varying inflections of sound; and these signs are the verbs and nouns which we use, and through which we signify the meaning of things. And though the word "fruit" is used by Moses before the creation of fruit, and "seed" before that of seed, this does not disprove our assertion, nor is the sense of the lawgiver opposed to what we have said regarding thought and conception. For that end of past agriculture which we speak of as fruit, and that beginning of future agriculture which we speak of as seed, this thing, I mean, underlying these names—whether wheat or some other produce which is increased and multiplied by sowing—does not, he teaches us, grow spontaneously, but by the will of Him Who created them to grow with their peculiar power, so as to be the same fruit and to reproduce themselves as seed, and to support mankind with their increase. And by the Divine will the thing is produced, not the name, so that the actual thing is the work of the Creator, but the distinguishing names of things, by which speech furnishes us with a clear and accurate description of them, are the work and the invention of man's reasoning faculty, though the reasoning faculty itself and its nature are a work of God. And since all people are endowed with reason, differences of language will of necessity be found according to differences of country. But if anyone maintains that light, or heaven, or earth, or seed were named in human fashion by God, he will certainly conclude that they were named in some specific language. What that was, let him show. For he who knows the one thing will not, in all probability, be ignorant of the other. For at the river Jordan, after the descent of the Holy Spirit, and again in the hearing of the Jews, and at the Transfiguration, there came a voice from heaven, teaching people not only to regard the phenomenon as something more than a figure, but also to believe the beloved Son of God to be truly God. Now that voice was fashioned by God, suitable to the understanding of the hearers, in airy substance, and adapted to the language of the day, God, who wills that all people should be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth, having so articulated His words in the air with a view to the salvation of the hearers, as our Lord also says to the Jews when they thought it thundered because the sound took place in the air: "This voice came not because of Me, but for your sakes." But before the creation of the world, inasmuch as there was no one to hear the word, and no bodily element capable of articulating the spoken voice, how can he who says that God used words give any appearance of probability to his assertion? God Himself is without body, creation did not yet exist. Reason does not allow us to conceive of anything material in respect to Him. Those who might have been benefited by the hearing were not yet created. And if people were not yet

But if any one would give a more sensuous interpretation to the words God said, as proving that articulate speech was His creation, by a parity of reason he must understand by the words God saw, that He did so by faculties of perception like our own, through the organs of vision; and so again by the words The Lord heard me and had mercy upon me, and again, He smelled a sweet savour, and whatever other sensuous expressions are employed by Scripture in reference to head, or foot, or hand, or eyes, or fingers, or sandals, as appertaining to God, taking them, I say, in their plain literal acceptation, he will present to us an anthropomorphous deity, after the similitude of what is seen among ourselves. But if any one hearing that the heavens are the work of His fingers, that He has a strong hand, and a mighty arm, and eyes, and feet, and sandals, deduces from such words ideas worthy of God, and does not degrade the idea of His pure nature by carnal and sensuous imaginations, it will follow that on the one hand he will regard the verbal utterances as indications of the Divine will, but on the other he will not conceive of them as articulate sounds, but will reason thus; that the Creator of human reason has gifted us with speech proportionally to the capacity of our nature, so that we might be able thereby to signify the thoughts of our minds; but that, so far as the Divine nature differs from ours, so great will be the degree of difference between our notions respecting it and its own inherent majesty and godhead. And as our power compared with God's, and our life with His life, is as nothing, and all else that is ours, compared with what is in Him, is as nothing in comparison with Him, as says the inspired Teaching, so also our word as compared with Him, Who is the Word indeed, is as nothing. For this word of yours was not in the beginning, but was created along with our nature, nor is it to be regarded as having any reality of its own, but, as our master (Basil) somewhere has said, it vanishes along with the sound of the voice, nor is any operation of the word discernible, but it has its subsistence in voice only, or in written characters. But the word of God is God Himself, the Word that was in the beginning and that abides for ever, through Whom all things were and are, Who rules over all, and has all power over the things in heaven and the things on earth, being Life, and Truth, and Righteousness, and Light, and all that is good, and upholding all things in being. Such, then, and so great being the word, as we understand it, of God, our opponent allows God, as some great thing, the power of language, made up of nouns, verbs, and conjunctions, not perceiving that, as He Who conferred practical powers on our nature is not spoken of as fabricating each of their several results, but, while He gave our nature its ability, it is by us that a house is constructed, or a bench, or a sword, or a plough, and whatsoever thing our life happens to be in need of, each of which things is our own work, although it may be ascribed to Him Who is the author of our being, and Who created our nature capable of every science, — so also our power of speech is the work of Him Who made our nature what it is, but the invention of each several term required to denote objects in hand is of our own devising. And this is proved by the fact that many terms in use are of a base and unseemly character, of which no man of sense would conceive God the inventor: so that, if certain of our familiar expressions are ascribed by Holy Scripture to God as the speaker, we should remember that the Holy Spirit is addressing us in language of our own, as e.g. in the history of the Acts we are told that each man received the teaching of the disciples in his own language wherein he was born, understanding the sense of the words by the language which he knew. And, that this is true, may be seen yet more clearly by a careful examination of the enactments of the Levitical law. For they make mention of pans, and cakes, and fine flour, and the like, in the mystic sacrifices, instilling wholesome doctrine under the veil of symbol and enigma. Mention, too, is made of certain measures then in use, such as ephah, and nebel, and hin, and the like. Are we, then, to suppose that God made these names and appellations, or that in the beginning He commanded them to be such, and to be so named, calling one kind of grain wheat, and its pith flour, and flat sweetmeats, whether heavy or light, cakes; and that He commanded a vessel of the kind in which a moist lump is boiled or baked to be called a pan, or that He spoke of a certain liquid measure by the name of hin or nebel, and measured dry produce by the homer? Surely it is trifling and mere Jewish folly, far removed from the grandeur of Christian simplicity, to think that God, Who is the Most High and above every name and thought, Who by sole virtue of His will governs the world, which He brought into existence, and upholds it in being, should set Himself like some schoolmaster to settle the niceties of terminology. Rather let us say, that as we indicate to the deaf what we want them to do, by gestures and signs, not because we have no voice of our own, but because a verbal communication would be utterly useless to those who cannot hear, so, in as much as human nature is in a sense deaf and insensible to higher truths, we maintain that the grace of God at sundry times and in various manners spoke by the Prophets, ordering their voices conformably to our capacity and the modes of expression with which we are familiar, and that by such means it leads us, as with a guiding hand, to the knowledge of higher truths, not teaching us in terms proportioned to their inherent sublimity, (for how can the great be contained by the little?) but descending to the lower level of our limited comprehension. And as God, after giving animals their power of motion, no longer prescribes each step they take, for their nature, having once for all taken its beginning from the Creator, moves of itself, and makes its way, adapting its power of motion to its object from time to time (except in so far as it is said that a man's steps are directed by the Lord), so our nature, having received from God the power of speech and utterance and of expressing the will by the voice, proceeds on its way through things, giving them distinctive names by varying inflections of sound; and these signs are the verbs and nouns which we use, and through which we signify the meaning of the things. And though the word fruit is made use of by Moses before the creation of fruit, and seed before that of seed, this does not disprove our assertion, nor is the sense of the lawgiver opposed to what we have said in respect to thought and conception. For that end of past husbandry which we speak of as fruit, and that beginning of future husbandry which we speak of as seed, this thing, I mean, underlying these names — whether wheat or some other produce which is increased and multiplied by sowing — does not, he teaches us, grow spontaneously, but by the will of Him Who created them to grow with their peculiar power, so as to be the same fruit and to reproduce themselves as seed, and to support mankind with their increase. And by the Divine will the thing is produced, not the name, so that the substantial thing is the work of the Creator, but the distinguishing names of things, by which speech furnishes us with a clear and accurate description of them, are the work and the invention of man's reasoning faculty, though the reasoning faculty itself and its nature are a work of God. And since all men are endowed with reason, differences of language will of necessity be found according to differences of country. But if any one maintain that light, or heaven, or earth, or seed were named after human fashion by God, he will certainly conclude that they were named in some special language. What that was, let him show. For he who knows the one thing will not, in all probability, be ignorant of the other. For at the river Jordan, after the descent of the Holy Ghost, and again in the hearing of the Jews, and at the Transfiguration, there came a voice from heaven, teaching men not only to regard the phenomenon as something more than a figure, but also to believe the beloved Son of God to be truly God. Now that voice was fashioned by God, suitably to the understanding of the hearers, in airy substance, and adapted to the language of the day, God, who wills that all men should be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth 1 Timothy 2:4, having so articulated His words in the air with a view to the salvation of the hearers, as our Lord also says to the Jews, when they thought it thundered because the sound took place in the air. This voice came not because of Me, but for your sakes. But before the creation of the world, inasmuch as there was no one to hear the word, and no bodily element capable of accentuating the articulate voice, how can he who says that God used words give any air of probability to his assertion? God Himself is without body, creation did not yet exist. Reason does not suffer us to conceive of anything material in respect to Him. They who might have been benefited by the hearing were not yet created. And if men were not yet in being, neither had any form of language been struck out in accordance with national peculiarities, by what arguments, then, can he who looks to the bare letter make good his assertion, that God spoke thus using human parts of speech?

The pointlessness of such claims can also be seen in this way. The natures of the elements, which are the Creator's work, appear the same to everyone, and human experience finds no difference in fire, air, or water. The physis of each is one and unchanging, working in the same way and not being altered by the differences among those who experience it. In the same way, if God had assigned names to things, the naming would have been the same for everyone. But in reality, while the physis of things as established by God remains the same, the names that identify them are divided by so many different languages that it would be difficult even to count them all.

And the futility of such assertions may be seen also by this. For as the natures of the elements, which are the work of the Creator, appear alike to all, and there is no difference to human sense in men's experience of fire, or air, or water, but the nature of each is one and unchanging, working in the same way, and suffering no modification from the differences of those who partake of it, so also the imposition of names, if applied to things by God, would have been the same for all. But, in point of fact, while the nature of things as constituted by God remains the same, the names which denote them are divided by so many differences of language, that it were no easy task even to calculate their number.

And if anyone brings up the confusion of tongues that happened at the building of the tower as contradicting what I have said, even there God is not spoken of as creating men's languages, but as confounding the existing one, so that all might not understand all. For when everyone lived together and were not yet divided by various racial differences, the whole human population dwelt together with one language among them. But when it was decreed by the Divine will that all the earth should be filled with humanity, then their common tongue was broken up, and people were scattered in various directions and adopted different forms of speech and language. They possessed a certain bond of unity through similarity of tongue, not disagreeing from others in their knowledge of things, but differing in how they named them. For a stone or a stick does not seem like one thing to one person and something else to another, but different peoples call them by different names. So our position remains unshaken: that human language is the invention of the human mind or understanding. For from the beginning, as long as all people had the same language, we see from Holy Scripture that people received no teaching of God's words. Nor, when people were separated into various different languages, did a Divine decree prescribe how each person should talk. But God, willing that people should speak different languages, gave human nature full liberty to formulate arbitrary sounds in order to make their meaning more intelligible. Accordingly, Moses, who lived many generations after the building of the tower, uses one of the later languages in his historical narrative of the creation and attributes certain words to God, relating these things in his own tongue in which he had been brought up and with which he was familiar. He did not change the names for God by foreign peculiarities and turns of speech in order to prove them the words of God Himself by the strangeness and novelty of the expressions.

And if any one cites the confusion of tongues that took place at the building of the tower, as contradicting what I have said, not even there is God spoken of as creating men's languages, but as confounding the existing one Genesis 11:7, that all might not hear all. For when all lived together and were not as yet divided by various differences of race, the aggregate of men dwelt together with one language among them; but when by the Divine will it was decreed that all the earth should be replenished by mankind, then, their community of tongue being broken up, men were dispersed in various directions and adopted this and that form of speech and language, possessing a certain bond of union in similarity of tongue, not indeed disagreeing from others in their knowledge of things, but differing in the character of their names. For a stone or a stick does not seem one thing to one man and another to another, but the different peoples call them by different names. So that our position remains unshaken, that human language is the invention of the human mind or understanding. For from the beginning, as long as all men had the same language, we see from Holy Scripture that men received no teaching of God's words, nor, when men were separated into various differences of language, did a Divine enactment prescribe how each man should talk. But God, willing that men should speak different languages, gave human nature full liberty to formulate arbitrary sounds, so as to render their meaning more intelligible. Accordingly, Moses, who lived many generations after the building of the tower, uses one of the subsequent languages in his historical narrative of the creation, and attributes certain words to God, relating these things in his own tongue in which he had been brought up, and with which he was familiar, not changing the names for God by foreign peculiarities and turns of speech, in order by the strangeness and novelty of the expressions to prove them the words of God Himself.

But some who have carefully studied the Scriptures tell us that the Hebrew language is not even ancient like the others, but that along with other miracles this miracle was performed on behalf of the Israelites—that after the Exodus from Egypt, the language was quickly created for the use of the nation. And there is a passage in the Prophet which confirms this. For he says, when he came out of the land of Egypt he heard a strange language. If, then, Moses was a Hebrew, and the language of the Hebrews came after the others, Moses, I say, who was born some thousands of years after the Creation of the world and who relates the words of God in his own language—does he not clearly teach us that he does not attribute to God such a language of human form, but that he speaks as he does because it was impossible to express his meaning in any way other than in human language, though the words he uses have some Divine and profound significance?

But some who have carefully studied the Scriptures tell us that the Hebrew tongue is not even ancient like the others, but that along with other miracles this miracle was wrought in behalf of the Israelites, that after the Exodus from Egypt, the language was hastily improvised for the use of the nation. And there is a passage in the Prophet which confirms this. For he says, when he came out of the land of Egypt he heard a strange language. If, then, Moses was a Hebrew, and the language of the Hebrews was subsequent to the others, Moses, I say, who was born some thousands of years after the Creation of the world, and who relates the words of God in his own language — does he not clearly teach us that he does not attribute to God such a language of human fashion, but that he speaks as he does because it was impossible otherwise than in human language to express his meaning, though the words he uses have some Divine and profound significance?

To suppose that God used the Hebrew language when there was no one to hear and understand it is something, I think, no reasonable person would accept. We read in Acts that the Divine power divided itself into many languages for this purpose: so that no one of a foreign tongue might lose their share of the benefit. But if God spoke in human language before the Creation, whom would He benefit by using it? That His speech should be adapted to the capacity of the hearers for their profit—no one would consider this unworthy of God's love for humanity, for Paul the follower of Christ knew how to adapt his words appropriately to the habits and disposition of his hearers, making himself milk for infants and solid food for mature people. But where no purpose was to be served by such use of language, to argue that God, as it were, spoke such words to Himself when there was no one needing the information they would convey—such an idea is, I think, both blasphemous and absurd. So God neither spoke in the Hebrew language nor expressed Himself according to any form used among the Gentiles. But whatever of God's words are recorded by Moses or the Prophets are indications of the Divine will, flashing forth now in one way, now in another, on the pure intellect of those holy men, according to the measure of grace they shared. Moses, then, spoke his native language, the one in which he was educated. But he attributed these words to God, as I have said repeatedly, because of the childlike understanding of those who were being brought to the knowledge of God, in order to give a clear representation of the Divine will and to make his hearers more obedient by being awed by the authority of the speaker.

For to suppose that God used the Hebrew tongue, when there was no one to hear and understand such a language, methinks no reasonable being will consent. We read in the Acts that the Divine power divided itself into many languages for this purpose, that no one of alien tongue might lose his share of the benefit. But if God spoke in human language before the Creation, whom was He to benefit by using it? For that His speech should have some adaptation to the capacity of the hearers, with a view to their profit, no one would conceive to be unworthy of God's love to man, for Paul the follower of Christ knew how to adapt his words suitably to the habits and disposition of his hearers, making himself milk for babes and strong meat for grown men. Hebrews 5:12 But where no object was to be gained by such use of language, to argue that God, as it were, declaimed such words by Himself, when there was no one in need of the information they would convey — such an idea, methinks, is at once both blasphemous and absurd. Neither, then, did God speak in the Hebrew language, nor did He express Himself according to any form in use among the Gentiles. But whatsoever of God's words are recorded by Moses or the Prophets, are indications of the Divine will, flashing forth, now in one way, now in another, on the pure intellect of those holy men, according to the measure of the grace of which they were partakers. Moses, then, spoke his mother-tongue, and that in which he was educated. But he attributed these words to God, as I have said, repeatedly, on account of the childishness of those who were being brought to the knowledge of God, in order to give a clear representation of the Divine will, and to render his hearers more obedient, as being awed by the authority of the speaker.

But Eunomius denies this—the author of all this contempt directed at us, and the companion and adviser of this impious group. Setting aside insolence for courtesy, I will present his own words. He maintains, in so many words, that he has the testimony of Moses himself for his claim that men were given the use of both things and their names by the Creator of nature, and that the naming of things came before in time the creation of those who would use them. Now, if he possesses some Moses of his own, from whom he learned this wisdom, and relies on such statements as his base of operations—namely, that God, as Eunomius himself says, establishes the laws of human speech, decreeing that things shall be called one way and not another—let him play games as much as he wants, with his Moses in the background to support his claims. But if there is only one Moses whose writings are the common source of instruction for those learned in the Divine Word, we will freely accept our condemnation if we find ourselves refuted by that Moses's law. But where did he find this law about verbs and nouns? Let him produce it in the exact words of the text. The account of Creation, the genealogy of successive generations, the history of certain events, the complex system of legislation, and various regulations regarding religious service and daily life—these are the chief topics in Moses's writings. But if he says there was any legislative enactment regarding words, let him point it out, and I will be silent. But he cannot, for if he could, he would not abandon the more striking evidences of the Deity for such as can only bring him ridicule, not credibility, from sensible people. For to think it the essential point in piety to attribute the invention of words to God, Whose praise the whole world and its wonders are unable to celebrate—must it not be extremely foolish to neglect higher grounds of praise and magnify God on purely human ones? His command preceded Creation, but it was recorded by Moses in human fashion, though issued Divinely. That will of God, which brought about the creation of the world by His Divine power, consisted, according to this careful student of the Scriptures, in the teaching of words. And as though God had said, "Let there be a word," or "Let speech be created," or "Let this or that have such and such a name," he brings forward the fact that Creation took place by the impulse of the Divine will to support his trivial argument. For despite all his study and experience in the Scriptures, he does not even know this: that the impulse of the mind is frequently called a voice in Scripture. And for this we have the evidence of Moses himself, whose meaning Eunomius frequently distorts, but whom on this point he simply ignores. For who is there, however slightly acquainted with the holy book, who does not know this: that the people of Israel who had just escaped from Egypt were suddenly frightened in the wilderness by the pursuing Egyptians, and when dangers surrounded them on all sides—on one side the sea blocked their passage like a wall, while the enemy cut off their retreat from behind—the people came together to the Prophet and blamed him for causing their helpless situation? And when he comforted them in their abject terror and roused them to courage, a voice came from God, addressing the Prophet by name: "Why do you cry to Me?" And yet before this the narrative makes no mention of any utterance by Moses. But the thought which the Prophet had lifted up to God is called a cry, though uttered in silence in the hidden thought of his heart. If, then, Moses cries, though without speaking, as witnessed by Him Who hears those groanings which cannot be uttered, is it strange that the Prophet, knowing the Divine will as far as it was lawful for him to tell it and for us to hear it, revealed it through known and familiar words, describing God's discourse in human fashion—not actually expressed in words, but signified by the effects themselves? In the beginning, he says, God created not the names of heaven and earth, but heaven and earth. And again, God said, "Let there be light," not the name "Light." And having divided the light from the darkness, God called, he says, the light Day, and the darkness He called Night.

But this is denied by Eunomius, the author of all this contumely with which we are assailed, and the companion and adviser of this impious band. For, changing insolence into courtesy, I will present him with his own words. He maintains, in so many words, that he has the testimony of Moses himself to his assertion that men were endowed with the use of the things named, and of their names, by the Creator of nature, and that the naming of the things given was prior in time to the creation of those who should use them. Now, if he is in possession of some Moses of his own, from whom he has learned this wisdom, and, making this his base of operations, relies on such statements as these, viz. that God, as he himself says, lays down the laws of human speech, enacting that things shall be called in one way and not in another, let him trifle as much as he pleases, with his Moses in the background to support his assertions. But if there is only one Moses whose writings are the common source of instruction to those who are learned in the Divine Word, we will freely accept our condemnation if we find ourselves refuted by the law of that Moses. But where did he find this law respecting verbs and nouns? Let him produce it in the very words of the text. The account of the Creation, and the genealogy of the successive generations, and the history of certain events, and the complex system of legislation, and various regulations in regard to religious service and daily life, these are the chief heads of the writings of Moses. But, if he says that there was any legislative enactment in regard to words, let him point it out, and I will hold my tongue. But he cannot; for, if he could, he would not abandon the more striking evidences of the Deity, for such as can only procure him ridicule, and not credit, from men of sense. For to think it the essential point in piety to attribute the invention of words to God, Whose praise the whole world and the wonders that are therein are incompetent to celebrate — must it not be a proceeding of extreme folly so to neglect higher grounds of praise, and to magnify God on such as are purely human? His fiat preluded Creation, but it was recorded by Moses after human fashion, though Divinely issued. That will of God, then, which brought about the creation of the world by His Divine power, consisted, says our careful student of the Scriptures, in the teaching of words. And as though God had said, Let there be a word, or, Let speech be created, or, Let this or that have such or such an appellation, so, in advocacy of his trifling, he brings forward the fact that it was by the impulse of the Divine will that Creation took place. For with all his study and experience in the Scriptures he knows not even this, that the impulse of the mind is frequently spoken of in Scripture as a voice. And for this we have the evidence of Moses himself, whose meaning he frequently perverts, but whom on this point he simply ignores. For who is there, however slightly acquainted with the holy volume, who does not know this, that the people of Israel who had just escaped from Egypt were suddenly affrighted in the wilderness by the pursuit of the Egyptians, and when dangers encompassed them on all sides, and on one side the sea cut off their passage as by a wall, while the enemy barred their flight in the rear, the people coming together to the Prophet charged him with being the cause of their helpless condition? And when he comforted them in their abject terror, and roused them to courage, a voice came from God, addressing the Prophet by name, Wherefore do you cry unto Me? Exodus 14:15 And yet before this the narrative makes no mention of any utterance on the part of Moses. But the thought which the Prophet had lifted up to God is called a cry, though uttered in silence in the hidden thought of his heart. If, then, Moses cries, though without speaking, as witnessed by Him Who hears, those groanings which cannot be uttered Romans 8:26, is it strange that the Prophet, knowing the Divine will, so far as it was lawful for him to tell it and for us to hear it, revealed it by known and familiar words, describing God's discourse after human fashion, not indeed expressed in words, but signified by the effects themselves? In the beginning, he says, God created, not the names of heaven and earth, but, the heaven and the earth. And again, God said, Let there be light, not the name Light: and having divided the light from the darkness, God called, he says, the light Day, and the darkness He called Night.

On these passages our opponents will probably take their stand. I will agree with what is said on their behalf, and I will myself use their positions later in our inquiry, so that what we teach may be more firmly established, with no point in controversy left without proper examination. God called, he says, the firmament Heaven, and He called the dry land Earth, and the light Day, and the darkness He called Night. How is it, then, they will ask, when Scripture admits that their names were given by God, that you say their names are the work of human invention? What, then, is our reply? We return to our straightforward statement, and we assert that He who brought all creation into being out of nothing is the Creator of things seen in substantial existence, not of insubstantial words that have no existence except in the sound of the voice and the movement of the tongue. But things are named by the indication of the voice in accordance with the nature and qualities inherent in each, with the names being adapted to the things according to the native language of each particular people.

On these passages it is probable that our opponents will take their stand. And I will agree for them with what is said, and will myself take advantage of their positions further on in our inquiry, in order that what we teach may be more firmly established, no point in controversy being left without due examination. God called, he says, the firmament Heaven, and He called the dry land Earth, and the light Day, and the darkness He called Night. How comes it, then, they will ask, when the Scripture admits that their appellations were given them by God, that you say that their names are the work of human invention? What, then, is our reply? We return to our plain statement, and we assert, that He Who brought all creation into being out of nothing is the Creator of things seen in substantial existence, not of unsubstantial words having no existence but in the sound of the voice and the lisp of the tongue. But things are named by the indication of the voice in conformity with the nature and qualities inherent in each, the names being adapted to the things according to the vernacular language of each several race.

But since the nature of most things we see in creation is not simple, all that they mean cannot be captured in one word. For instance, with fire, the element itself is one thing in its nature, while the word that denotes it is another. Fire itself possesses the qualities of shining, burning, drying, heating, and consuming whatever fuel it takes hold of, but the name is just a brief word of one syllable. For this reason, speech distinguishes the powers and qualities seen in fire and gives each of them its own name, as I said before. We cannot say that only a name has been given to fire when it is called bright or consuming or anything else we observe it to be, because such words denote qualities physically inherent in it. Similarly, in the case of heaven and the firmament, though one nature is signified by each of these words, their difference represents one or another of its particular characteristics. By looking at these we learn one thing by the term heaven and another by firmament. When speech defines the limit of sensible creation, beyond which lies the transmundane void understood by the mind alone, in contrast with the intangible, incorporeal, and invisible, the beginning and end of all material existences is called the firmament. And when we survey the environment of earthly things, we call that which encompasses all material nature and forms the boundary of all visible things by the name heaven. In the same way, regarding earth and dry land, since all heavy and downward-tending nature was divided into these two elements, earth and water, the term dry defines to some extent its opposite. Earth is called dry in opposition to moist, since it threw off, by divine command, the water that covered it and appeared in its own character. But the name earth does not continue to express only one of its qualities; rather, by its meaning, it embraces all that the word includes—for example, hardness, density, weight, resistance, and the ability to support animal and vegetable life. Accordingly, the word dry was not changed by speech to the last name given to it (for its new name did not make it cease to be called dry), but while both terms remained, a particular meaning attached itself to each: one distinguishing it in nature and property from its opposite, the other embracing all its attributes collectively. And so with light and day, and again with night and darkness, we do not find a pronunciation of syllables created to suit them by the Maker of all things, but rather through these terms we note the substance of the things they signify. At the entrance of light, by the will of God, the darkness that prevailed over the earliest creation is scattered. But the earth lies in the middle, upheld on all sides by its surrounding of different elements, as Job says, "He hangs the earth upon nothing." When light traveled over one side and the earth obstructed it on the opposite by its own bulk, it was necessary that a side of darkness should be left by the obstruction. So, as the perpetual motion of the heavens cannot help but carry along with it the darkness resulting from the obstruction, God ordained this revolution as a measure of the duration of time. And that measure is day and night. For this reason Moses, according to his wisdom, in his historical explanation of these matters, named the shadow resulting from the earth's obstruction a dividing of the light from the darkness, and the constant and measured alternation of light and darkness over the surface of the earth he called day and night. So what was called light was not named day, but just as there was light and not merely the name of light, so the measure of time was also created and the name followed—not created by God in a sound of words, but because the very nature of the thing assumed this vocal designation. And if the Lawgiver had plainly said that nothing that is seen or named is of spontaneous generation or without formation, but has its existence from God, we might have concluded for ourselves that God made the world and all its parts, the order seen in them, and the faculty of distinguishing them. So also by what he says he leads us to understand and believe that nothing which exists is without beginning. With this in view he describes the successive events of creation in orderly fashion, enumerating them one after another. But it was impossible to represent them in language except by expressing their meaning with words that would indicate it. Since it is written that God called the light day, it must be understood that God made the day from light, being something different by the force of the term. For you cannot apply the same definition to light and day, but light is what we understand by the opposite of darkness, and day is the extent of the measured interval of light. In the same way you may regard night and darkness by the same difference of description, defining darkness as the negation of light and calling night the extent of the encompassing darkness. Thus in every way our argument is confirmed, though perhaps not drawn out in strict logical form—showing that God is the Maker of things, not of empty words. For things have their names not for his sake but for ours. Since we cannot always have all things before our eyes, we take knowledge of some of the things that are present with us from time to time, and others we register in our memories. But it would be impossible to keep memory unconfused unless we had the designation of words to distinguish the things stored up in our minds from one another. But to God all things are present, nor does he need memory, since all things are within the range of his penetrating vision. What need, then, in his case, of parts of speech, when his own wisdom and power embraces and holds the nature of all things distinct and unconfused? Therefore all things that exist substantially are from God, but for our guidance all things that exist are provided with names to indicate them. And if anyone says that such names were imposed by the arbitrary usage of humankind, he will commit no offense against the scheme of divine providence. For we do not say that the nature of things was of human invention, but only their names. The Hebrew calls heaven by one name, the Canaanite by another, but both of them understand it alike, being in no way led into error by the difference of the sounds that convey the idea of the object. But the over-cautious and timid will-worship of these clever folk, on whose authority he asserts that if it were granted that words were given to things by men, men would be of higher authority than God, is proved to be unsubstantial even by the example we find recorded of Moses. For who gave Moses his name? Was it not Pharaoh's daughter who named him from what had happened? For water is called Moses in the language of the Egyptians. Since, in consequence of the tyrant's order, his parents had placed the baby in an ark and consigned it to the stream (for so some related concerning him), but by the will of God the ark was floated by the current and carried to the bank, and found by the princess who happened just then to be taking the refreshment of the bath, as the child had been gained from the water, she is said to have given him his name as a memorial of the occurrence—a name by which God himself did not disdain to address his servant, nor did he deem it beneath him to allow the name given by the foreign woman to remain the prophet's proper appellation.

But since the nature of most things that are seen in Creation is not simple, so as to allow of all that they connote being comprehended in one word, as, for instance, in the case of fire, the element itself is one thing in its nature, while the word which denotes it is another (for fire itself possesses the qualities of shining, of burning, of drying and heating, and consuming whatever fuel it lays hold of, but the name is but a brief word of one syllable), on this account speech, which distinguishes the powers and qualities seen in fire, gives each of them a name of its own, as I have said before. And one cannot say that only a name has been given to fire when it is spoken of as bright, or consuming, or anything else that we observe it to be. For such words denote qualities physically inherent in it. So likewise, in the case of heaven and the firmament, though one nature is signified by each of these words, their difference represents one or other of its peculiar characteristics, in looking at which we learn one thing by the appellation heaven, and another by firmament. For when speech would define the limit of sensible creation, beyond which it is succeeded by the transmundane void apprehended by the mind alone, in contrast with the intangible and incorporeal and invisible, the beginning and the end of all material subsistences is called the firmament. And when we survey the environment of terrestrial things, we call that which encompasses all material nature, and which forms the boundary of all things visible, by the name of heaven. In the same manner with regard to earth and dry land, since all heavy and downward-tending nature was divided into these two elements, earth and water, the appellation dry defines to a certain extent its opposite, for earth is called dry in opposition to moist, since having thrown off, by Divine command, the water that overspread it, it appeared in its own character. But the name earth does not continue to express the signification of some one only of its qualities, but, by virtue of its meaning, it embraces all that the word connotes, e.g. hardness, density, weight, resistance, capability of supporting animal and vegetable life. Accordingly, the word dry was not changed by speech to the last name put upon it (for its new name did not make it cease to be called so), but while both the appellations remained, a peculiar signification attached itself to each, the one distinguishing it in nature and property from its opposite, the other embracing all its attributes collectively. And so in light and day, and again in night and darkness, we do not find a pronunciation of syllables created to suit them by the Maker of all things, but rather through these appellations we note the substance of the things which they signify. At the entrance of light, by the will of God the darkness that prevailed over the earliest creation is scattered. But the earth lying in the midst, and being upheld on all sides by its surrounding of different elements, as Job says, He hangs the earth upon nothing Job 26:7, it was necessary when light travelled over one side and the earth obstructed it on the opposite by its own bulk, that a side of darkness should be left by the obscuration, and so, as the perpetual motion of the heavens cannot but carry along with it the darkness resulting from the obscuration, God ordained this revolution for a measure of duration of time. And that measure is day and night. For this reason Moses, according to his wisdom, in his historical elucidation of these matters, named the shadow resulting from the earth's obstruction, a dividing of the light from the darkness, and the constant and measured alternation of light and darkness over the surface of the earth he called day and night. So that what was called light was not named day, but as there was light, and not the bare name of light, so the measure of time also was created and the name followed, not created by God in a sound of words, but because the very nature of the thing assumed this vocal notation. And as, if it had been plainly said by the Lawgiver that nothing that is seen or named is of spontaneous generation or unfashioned, but that it has its subsistence from God, we might have concluded of ourselves that God made the world and all its parts, and the order which is seen in them, and the faculty of distinguishing them, so also by what he says he leads us on to understand and believe that nothing which exists is without beginning. And with this view he describes the successive events of Creation in orderly method, enumerating them one after another. But it was impossible to represent them in language, except by expressing their signification by words that should indicate it. Since, then, it is written that God called the light day, it must be understood that God made the day from light, being something different, by the force of the term. For you cannot apply the same definition to light and day, but light is what we understand by the opposite of darkness, and day is the extent of the measure of the interval of light. In the same way you may regard night and darkness by the same difference of description, defining darkness as the negation of light, and calling night the extent of the encompassing darkness. Thus in every way our argument is confirmed, though not, perhaps, drawn out in strict logical form — showing that God is the Maker of things, not of empty words. For things have their names not for His sake but for ours. For as we cannot always have all things before our eyes, we take knowledge of some of the things that are present with us from time to time, and others we register in our memories. But it would be impossible to keep memory unconfused unless we had the notation of words to distinguish the things that are stored up in our minds from one another. But to God all things are present, nor does He need memory, all things being within the range of His penetrating vision. What need, then, in His case, of parts of speech, when His own wisdom and power embraces and holds the nature of all things distinct and unconfused? Wherefore all things that exist substantially are from God; but, for our guidance, all things that exist are provided with names to indicate them. And if any one say that such names were imposed by the arbitrary usage of mankind, he will be guilty of no offense against the scheme of Divine Providence. For we do not say that the nature of things was of human invention, but only their names. The Hebrew calls Heaven by one name, the Canaanite by another, but both of them understand it alike, being in no way led into error by the difference of the sounds that convey the idea of the object. But the over-cautious and timid will-worship of these clever folk, on whose authority he asserts that, if it were granted that words were given to things by men, men would be of higher authority than God, is proved to be unsubstantial even by the example which we find recorded of Moses. For who gave Moses his name? Was it not Pharaoh's daughter who named him from what had happened Exodus 2:10? For water is called Moses in the language of the Egyptians. Since, then, in consequence of the tyrant's order, his parents had placed the babe in an ark and consigned it to the stream (for so some related concerning him), but by the will of God the ark was floated by the current and carried to the bank, and found by the princess, who happened just then to be taking the refreshment of the bath, as the child had been gained from the water, she is said to have given him his name as a memorial of the occurrence — a name by which God Himself did not disdain to address His servant, nor did He deem it beneath Him to allow the name given by the foreign woman to remain the Prophet's proper appellation.

In the same way, Jacob took hold of his brother's heel before him and was called a supplanter from the position in which he was born. Those who are knowledgeable in such matters tell us that this is what the word Jacob means when translated into Greek. Similarly, Pharez was named by his nurse because of what happened at his birth, yet no one on that account, like Eunomius, showed any jealousy that he was taking authority that belonged to God. Furthermore, the mothers of the patriarchs gave them their names, such as Reuben, Simeon, Levi, and all those who came after them. And no one jumped up, like our new author does, as a defender of Divine providence to forbid women from seizing Divine authority by giving names. And what should we say about other details in the sacred record, such as the waters of strife, the place of mourning, the hill of the foreskins, the valley of the cluster, the field of blood, and similar names that were given by humans but were often recorded as being spoken by the Person of God? From these we may learn that people can communicate the meaning of things through words without being presumptuous, and that the Divine nature does not depend on words for evidence of itself.

In like manner before him Jacob, having taken hold of his brother's heel, was called a supplanter Genesis 25:26, from the attitude in which he came to the birth. For those who are learned in such matters tell us that such is the interpretation of the word Jacob, as translated into Greek. So, too, Pharez was so named by his nurse from the incident at his birth Genesis 38:29, yet no one on that account, like Eunomius, displayed any jealousy of his assuming an authority above that of God. Moreover the mothers of the patriarchs gave them their names, as Reuben, and Simeon, and Levi, and all those who came after them. And no one started up, like our new author, as patron of Divine providence, to forbid women to usurp Divine authority by the imposition of names. And what shall we say of other particulars in the sacred record, such as the waters of strife, and the place of mourning, and the hill of the foreskins, and the valley of the cluster, and the field of blood, and such-like names, of human imposing, but oftentimes recorded to have been uttered by the Person of God, from which we may learn that men may notify the meaning of things by words without presumption, and that the Divine nature does not depend on words for its evidence to itself?

But I will pass over his other ramblings against the truth, since they have no force against our doctrines, for I consider it pointless to linger any longer over such absurdities. Who could be so lacking in more important subjects of thought as to waste energy on foolish arguments, and to argue with men who claim we are saying that human forethought carries greater weight and authority than God's guardianship, and that we attribute the carelessness that confuses weaker minds to the providence of God? These are the exact words of our accuser. But for my part, I think it is just as absurd to pay attention to remarks like that as to occupy myself with old women's dreams. For to think of securing the dignity of rule and sovereignty for the Divine Being through a particular form of words, and to show that the great power of God depends on this, while on the other hand neglecting Him and disregarding the providence that belongs to Him, and to make it a criticism against us that people, having received from God the faculty of reason, make arbitrary use of words to signify things—what is this but an old woman's tale, or a drunkard's dream? For the true power, and authority, and dominion, and sovereignty of God do not, we believe, consist in syllables. If that were so, any inventor of words might claim equal honor with God. But the infinite ages, and the beauties of the universe, and the rays of the heavenly lights, and all the wonders of land and sea, and the angelic hosts and heavenly powers, and whatever else exists in the realm above that is revealed to us under various figures by Holy Scripture—these are the things that bear witness to God's power over all. In contrast, to attribute the invention of vocal sound to those who are naturally endowed with the faculty of speech involves no impiety toward Him who gave them their voice. Nor indeed do we consider it a great thing to invent words that signify things. For the being to whom Holy Scripture in the creation account gave the name of man (ἄνθρωπος), a word of human invention, that same being Job calls mortal (βροτός), while among secular writers, some call him human being (φώς), and others articulate speaker (μέροψ)—to say nothing of other variations of the name. Do we, then, elevate them to equal honor with God, because they also invented names equivalent to that of man, all signifying the same subject? But, as I have said before, let us leave this idle talk, and make no account of his string of insults, in which he charges us with lying against the Divine oracles, and uttering slanders with shamelessness even against God.

But I will pass over his other babblings against the truth, possessing as they do no force against our doctrines, for I deem it superfluous to linger any longer over such absurdities. For who can be so wanting in the more important subjects of thought as to waste energy on silly arguments, and to contend with men who speak of us as asserting that man's forethought is of superior weight and authority to God's guardianship, and that we ascribe the carelessness which confuses the feebler minds to the providence of God? These are the exact words of our calumniator. But I, for my part, think it equally as absurd to pay attention to remarks like that, as to occupy myself with old wives' dreams. For to think of securing the dignity of rule and sovereignty to the Divine Being by a form of words, and to show the great power of God to be dependent upon this, and on the other hand to neglect Him and disregard the providence which belongs to Him, and to lay it to our reproach that men, having received from God the faculty of reason, make an arbitrary use of words to signify things — what is this but an old wife's fable, or a drunkard's dream? For the true power, and authority, and dominion, and sovereignty of God do not, we think, consist in syllables. Were it so, any and every inventor of words might claim equal honour with God. But the infinite ages, and the beauties of the universe, and the beams of the heavenly luminaries, and all the wonders of land and sea, and the angelic hosts and supra-mundane powers, and whatever else there is whose existence in the realm above is revealed to us under various figures by Holy Scripture — these are the things that bear witness to God's power over all. Whereas, to attribute the invention of vocal sound to those who are naturally endowed with the faculty of speech, this involves no impiety towards Him Who gave them their voice. Nor indeed do we hold it to be a great thing to invent words significative of things. For the being to whom Holy Scripture in the history of the creation gave the name of man Genesis 1:26 ( ἄ νθρωπος), a word of human devising, that same being Job calls mortal ( βροτός), while of profane writers, some call him human being ( φώς), and others articulate speaker ( μέροψ)– to say nothing of other varieties of the name. Do we, then, elevate them to equal honour with God, because they also invented names equivalent to that of man, alike signifying their subject. But, as I have said before, let us leave this idle talk, and make no account of his string of revilings, in which he charges us with lying against the Divine oracles, and uttering slanders with effrontery even against God.

Let me move on to what remains. Eunomius brings forward once more some of the Master's words, which say this: And it is in precisely the same way that we are taught by Holy Scripture the use of a conception. Our Lord Jesus Christ, when declaring to people the nature of His Godhead, explains it by certain special characteristics, calling Himself the Door, the Bread, the Way, the Vine, the Shepherd, the Light. Now I think it best to pass over his insulting remarks about these words (for this is how his rhetorical training has taught him to argue with his opponents), nor will I let myself be disturbed by his outbursts of childish foolishness. Let us, however, examine one sharp and supposedly irresistible argument which he puts forward to refute us. Which of the sacred writers, he asks, gives evidence that these names were attributed to our Lord by a conception? But which of them, I reply, forbids it, considering it blasphemy to regard such names as the result of a conception? For if he maintains that its not being mentioned is proof that it is forbidden, by the same logic he must admit that its not being forbidden is an argument that it is permitted. Is our Lord called by these names, or does Eunomius deny this also? If he does deny that these names are spoken of Christ, we have won without a battle. For what greater victory could there be than to prove our adversary is fighting against God by robbing the sacred words of the Gospel of their meaning? But if he admits that it is true that Christ is named by these names, let him say in what manner they can be applied without irreverence to the Only-begotten Son of God. Does he take the stone as indicating His physis? Does he understand His ousia under the figure of the Axe (not to burden our argument by listing the rest)? None of these names represents the physis of the Only-begotten, or His Godhead, or the particular character of His ousia. Nevertheless He is called by these names, and each title has its own special appropriateness. For we cannot, without irreverence, suppose anything in the words of God to be pointless and meaningless. Let him say, then, if he disallows these names as the result of a conception, how do they apply to Christ? For we on our part say this: that since our Lord provided for human life in various ways, each variety of His kindness is suitably distinguished by His several names, His providential care and working on our behalf passing over into the form of a name. And such a name is said by us to be arrived at by a conception. But if this is not agreeable to our opponents, let it be as each of them pleases. In his ignorance, however, of the figures of Scripture, our opponent contradicts what is said. For if he had learned the Divine names, he must have known that our Lord is called a Curse and Sin, and a Heifer, and a lion's Whelp, and a Bear bereaved of her cubs, and a Leopard, and such names, according to various modes of conception, by Holy Scripture, the sacred and inspired writers using such names, as if using well-aimed arrows, to indicate the central point of the idea they had in view. Yet these words, when taken in their literal and obvious meaning, seem not above suspicion, but each single one of them, unless we allow it to be said of God through some process of conception, will not escape the taint of a blasphemous suggestion. But it would be a lengthy task to bring them all forward and explain in every case how, in the general idea, these words have been turned away from their obvious meanings, and how it is only in connection with the faculty of conception that the names of God can be reconciled with the reverence which is His due.

To pass on, then, to what remains. He brings forward once more some of the Master's words, to this effect: And it is in precisely the same manner that we are taught by Holy Scripture the employment of a conception. Our Lord Jesus Christ, when declaring to men the nature of His Godhead, explains it by certain special characteristics, calling Himself the Door, the Bread, the Way, the Vine, the Shepherd, the Light. Now I think it seemly to pass over his insolent remarks on these words (for it is thus that his rhetorical training has taught him to contend with his opponents), nor will I suffer myself to be disturbed by his ebullitions of childish folly. Let us, however, examine one pungent and irresistible argument which he puts forward for our refutation. Which of the sacred writers, he asks, gives evidence that these names were attributed to our Lord by a conception? But which of them, I reply, forbids it, deeming it a blasphemy to regard such names as the result of a conception? For if he maintains that its not being mentioned is a proof that it is forbidden, by a parity of reasoning he must admit that its not being forbidden is an argument that it is permitted. Is our Lord called by these names, or does Eunomius deny this also? If he does deny that these names are spoken of Christ, we have conquered without a battle. For what more signal victory could there be, than to prove our adversary to be fighting against God, by robbing the sacred words of the Gospel of their meaning? But if he admits that it is true that Christ is named by these names, let him say in what manner they may be applied without irreverence to the Only-begotten Son of God. Does he take the stone as indicative of His nature? Does he understand His essence under the figure of the Axe (not to encumber our argument by enumerating the rest)? None of these names represents the nature of the Only-begotten, or His Godhead, or the peculiar character of His essence. Nevertheless He is called by these names, and each appellation has its own special fitness. For we cannot, without irreverence, suppose anything in the words of God to be idle and unmeaning. Let him say, then, if he disallows these names as the result of a conception, how do they apply to Christ? For we on our part say this, that as our Lord provided for human life in various forms, each variety of His beneficence is suitably distinguished by His several names, His provident care and working on our behalf passing over into the mould of a name. And such a name is said by us to be arrived at by a conception. But if this is not agreeable to our opponents, let it be as each of them pleases. In his ignorance, however, of the figures of Scripture, our opponent contradicts what is said. For if he had learned the Divine names, he must have known that our Lord is called a Curse and Sin Galatians 3:13, and a Heifer Hebrews 9:13, and a lion's Whelp Genesis 49:9, and a Bear bereaved of her whelps Hosea 13:3, and a Leopard Hosea 13:7 and such-like names, according to various modes of conception, by Holy Scripture, the sacred and inspired writers by such names, as by well-directed shafts, indicating the central point of the idea they had in view; even though these words, when taken in their literal and obvious signification, seem not above suspicion, but each single one of them, unless we allow it to be predicated of God by some process of conception, will not escape the taint of a blasphemous suggestion. But it would be a lengthy task to bring them forward, and elucidate in every case how, in the general idea, these words have been perverted out of their obvious meanings, and how it is only in connection with the conceptive faculty that the names of God can be reconciled with that reverence which is His due.

But to return. Such names are used of our Lord, and no one familiar with the inspired Scriptures can deny this fact. What then? Does Eunomius claim that these words indicate His physis itself? If so, he is asserting that the Divine physis is multiform, and that the variety it displays in what is signified by the names is very complex. For the meanings of the words Bread and Lion are not the same, nor those of Axe and Water, but to each of them we can assign its own definition, which the others do not share. They do not, therefore, signify physis or ousia, yet no one will presume to say that this way of naming is completely inappropriate and meaningless. If, then, these words are given to us, but not as indicators of ousia, and every word given in Scripture is just and appropriate, how else can these names be properly applied to the Only-begotten Son of God, except in connection with the faculty of conception? For it is clear that the Divine Being is spoken of under various names, according to the variety of His operations, so that we may think of Him in the aspect so named. What harm, then, is done to our reverent ideas of God by this mental operation, instituted with a view to our thinking about the things done, and which we call conception, though if anyone chooses to call it by some other name, we will make no objection.

But to return. Such names are used of our Lord, and no one familiar with the inspired Scriptures can deny the fact. What then? Does Eunomius affirm that the words are indicative of His nature itself? If so, he asserts that the Divine nature is multiform, and that the variety which it displays in what is signified by the names is very complex. For the meanings of the words Bread and Lion are not the same, nor those of Axe and Water, but to each of them we can assign a definition of its own, of which the others do not partake. They do not, therefore, signify nature or essence, yet no one will presume to say that this nomenclature is quite inappropriate and unmeaning. If, then, these words are given us, but not as indicative of essence, and every word given in Scripture is just and appropriate, how else can these appellations be fitly applied to the Only-begotten Son of God, except in connection with the faculty of conception? For it is clear that the Divine Being is spoken of under various names, according to the variety of His operations, so that we may think of Him in the aspect so named. What harm, then, is done to our reverential ideas of God by this mental operation, instituted with a view to our thinking upon the things done, and which we call conception, though if any one choose to call it by some other name, we shall make no objection.

Like a mighty wrestler, Eunomius refuses to let go of his grip on us and directly states that these names are the product of human thought and conception, and that through this mental operation some people arrive at conclusions that no Apostle or Evangelist ever taught. After this bold attack, he raises his self-righteous voice and spits out his vile abuse at us with a tongue well trained in such language. For he says that attributing homonyms derived from analogy to human thought and conception is the work of a mind that has lost all sound judgment and studies the Lord's words with a weakened understanding and dishonest thought patterns. Have mercy! What a logical argument! How scientifically it reaches its conclusion! Who after this will dare to defend the concept of conception, when such a stench pours from his mouth upon those who try to speak? I suppose we who do try to speak must refrain from examining his argument for fear he will stir up the cesspool of his abuse against us. And truly it is foolish to let ourselves be provoked by childish absurdities. We will therefore allow our insolent opponent full freedom to indulge in his method as he wishes. But we will return to the Master's argument so that from there too we may gather reinforcements for the truth. Eunomius has been reminded of analogy and has recognized that the homonyms are derived from it. Now where or from whom did he learn these terms? Not from Moses, not from the Prophets and Apostles, not from the Evangelists. It is impossible that he learned them from any Scripture's teaching. How then did he come to use them? The very word that describes this or that meaning of a thought as analogy—is it not the invention of the thinking faculty of the person who speaks it? How is it then that he fails to see that he is using the very views he fights against as his allies in the war? For he makes war against our principle that words are formed by the operation of conception, and would try to establish, with the help of words formed on that very principle, that it is unlawful to use them. It is not, he says, the teaching of any of the sacred writers. To whom then among the ancients do you yourself attribute the term ungenerate, and its being predicated of the ousia of God? Or is it permissible for you, when you want to establish some of your impious conclusions, to coin and invent terms to your own liking, but if something is said by someone else that contradicts your impiety, to deprive your opponent of similar freedom? Great indeed would be the power you would claim if you could make good your claim to such authority as this—that what you forbid to others should be allowed to you alone, and that what you yourself presume to do by virtue of it, you should prevent others from doing. You condemn, as if by decree, the doctrine that these names were applied to Christ as a result of conception, because none of the sacred writers have declared that they ought to be so applied. How then can you lay down the law that the Divine ousia should be denoted by the word ungenerate—a term which none of the sacred writers can be shown to have handed down to us? For if this is the test of the right use of words, that only such shall be employed as the inspired word of Scripture authorizes, the word ungenerate must be erased from your own writings, since none of the sacred writers has sanctioned the expression. But perhaps you accept it because of the meaning that resides in it. Well, we ourselves in the same way accept the term conception because of the meaning that resides in it. Accordingly we will either exclude both from use, or neither, and whichever alternative is adopted, we are equally victorious. For if the term ungenerate is completely suppressed, all our opponents' clamor against the truth is suppressed along with it, and a doctrine worthy of the Only-begotten Son of God will shine forth, since logical opposition can furnish no name to detract from the Lord's majesty. But if both are retained, in that case also the truth will prevail, and we along with it, when we have changed the word ungeneracy from the substance into a conception of the Deity. But as long as he does not exclude the term ungenerate from his own writings, let our modern Pharisee admonish himself not to look at the speck in our eye before he has cast out the beam that is in his own.

But, like a mighty wrestler, he will not relinquish his irresistible hold on us, and affirms in so many words, that these names are the work of human thought and conception, and that, by the exercise of this operation of the mind by some, results are arrived at which no Apostle or Evangelist has taught. And after this doughty onslaught he raises that sanctimonious voice of his, spitting out his foul abuse at us with a tongue well schooled to such language. For, says he, to ascribe homonyms, drawn from analogy, to human thought and conception is the work of a mind that has lost all judicial sense, and that studies the words of the Lord with an enfeebled understanding and dishonest habit of thought. Mercy on us! What a logical argument! How scientifically it proceeds to its conclusion! Who after this will dare to speak up for the cause of conception, when such a stench is poured forth from his mouth upon those who attempt speaking? I suppose, then, that we, who do attempt speaking, must forbear to examine his argument, for fear of his stirring up against us the cesspool of his abuse. And verily it is weak-minded to let ourselves be irritated by childish absurdities. We will therefore allow our insolent adversary full liberty to indulge in his method as he will. But we will return to the Master's argument, that thence too we may muster reinforcements for the truth. Eunomius has been reminded of analogy and has perceived the homonyms to be derived from it. Now where or from whom did he learn these terms? Not from Moses, not from the Prophets and Apostles, not from the Evangelists. It is impossible that he should have learned them from the teaching of any Scripture. How came he, then, to use them? The very word which describes this or that signification of a thought as analogy, is it not the invention of the thinking faculty of him who utters it? How is it, then, that he fails to perceive that he is using the views he fights against as his allies in the war? For he makes war against our principle of words being formed by the operation of conception, and would endeavour to establish, by the aid of words formed on that very principle, that it is unlawful to use them. It is not, says he, the teaching of any of the sacred writers. To whom, then, of the ancients do you yourself ascribe the term ungenerate, and its being predicated of the essence of God? Or is it allowable for you, when you want to establish some of your impious conclusions, to coin and invent terms to your own liking; but if anything is said by some one else in contravention of your impiety, to deprive your adversary of similar licence? Great indeed would be the power you would assume if you could make good your claim to such authority as this, that what you refuse to others should be allowable to you alone, and that what you yourself presume to do by virtue of it, you should prevent others from doing. You condemn, as by an edict, the doctrine that these names were applied to Christ as a result of conception, because none of the sacred writers have declared that they ought so to be applied. How, then, can you lay down the law that the Divine essence should be denoted by the word ungenerate — a term which none of the sacred writers can be shown to have handed down to us? For if this is the test of the right use of words, that only such shall be employed as the inspired word of Scripture shall authorize, the word ungenerate must be erased from your own writings, since none of the sacred writers has sanctioned the expression. But perhaps you accept it by reason of the sense that resides in it. Well, we ourselves in the same way accept the term conception by reason of the sense that resides in it. Accordingly we will either exclude both from use, or neither, and whichever alternative be adopted, we are equally masters of the field. For if the term ungenerate be altogether suppressed, all our adversaries' clamour against the truth is suppressed along with it, and a doctrine worthy of the Only-begotten Son of God will shine forth, inasmuch as logical opposition can furnish no name to detract from the majesty of the Lord. But if both be retained, in that case also the truth will prevail, and we along with it, when we have altered the word ungeneracy from the substance, into a conception, of the Deity. But so long as he does not exclude the term ungenerate from his own writings, let our modern Pharisee admonish himself not to behold the mote that is in our eye, before he has cast out the beam that is in his own.

But God, he says, gave the weakest of earthly things a share in the most honorable names, though not giving them an equal share of dignity, and to the highest He gave the names of the lowest, though the natural inferiority of the latter was not transferred to the former along with their names. We quote this in his exact words. If these words contain some deep and hidden meaning that has escaped us, let those who see what is beyond our range of vision inform us—initiated as they are by him in his esoteric and unspeakable mysteries. But if they admit no interpretation beyond what is obvious, I hardly know which of the two are more to be pitied, those who say such things or those who listen to them. To the weakest of earthly things, he says, God has given names in common with the most honorable, though not giving them an equal share of dignity. Let us examine what this means. The weakest things, he says, are honored with merely the name belonging to the honorable, their physis not corresponding with their name. And this he claims is the work of the God of truth—to honor the worse physis with the worthier title! On the other hand, he says that God applies the less honorable names to things superior in their physis, the physis of the latter not being carried over to the former along with the title. But to make the matter even clearer, the absurdity shall be shown by actual examples. If anyone should call a man who is esteemed for every virtue intemperate, or, on the other hand, a man equally in disrepute for his vices good and moral, would sensible people think him of sound mind, or one who had any regard for truth, reversing, as would be the case, the meanings of words and giving them an unnatural meaning? I for my part think not. He speaks, then, of things relating to God completely out of keeping with our common understanding and with the holy Scriptures. For in matters of ordinary life it is only those who are unsettled by drink or madness who go wrong in names and use them out of their proper meaning, calling, it may be, a man a dog, or vice versa. But Holy Scripture is so far from approving such confusion that we may clearly hear the voice of prophecy lamenting it. "Woe to him," says Isaiah, "who calls darkness light and light darkness, who calls bitter sweet and sweet bitter." Now what induces Eunomius to apply this absurdity to his God? Let those who are initiated in his mysteries say what they judge those weakest of earthly things to be, which God has honored with most honorable titles. The weakest of existing things are those animals whose generation takes place from the corruption of moist elements, just as the most honorable are virtue and holiness and whatever else is pleasing in the sight of God. Are flies, then, and midges and frogs and whatever insects are generated from dung honored with the names of holiness and virtue, so as to be consecrated with honorable names, though not sharing in such high qualities, as Eunomius says? But we have never yet heard anything like this, that these weak things are called by high-sounding titles, or that what is great and honorable by physis is degraded by the name of any one of them. Noah was a righteous man, says the Scripture, Abraham was faithful, Moses meek, Daniel wise, Joseph chaste, Job blameless, David perfect in patience. Let them say, then, whether all these had their names by contraries; or, to take the case of those who are unfavorably spoken of, such as Nabal the Carmelite, and Pharaoh the Egyptian, and Abimelech the alien, and all those who are mentioned for their vices, whether they were honored with honorable names by the voice of God. Not so! But God judges and distinguishes His creatures as they are in physis and truth, not by names contrary to them, but by such appropriate titles as may give the clearest idea of their meaning.

But God, he says, gave the weakest of terrestrial things a share in the most honourable names, though not giving them an equal share of dignity, and to the highest He imparted the names of the lowest, though the natural inferiority of the latter was not transferred to the former along with their names. We quote this in his very words. If they contain some deep and recondite meaning which has escaped us, let those inform us who see what is beyond our range of vision — initiated as they are by him in his esoteric and unspeakable mysteries. But if they admit of no interpretation beyond what is obvious, I scarcely know which of the two are more to be pitied, those who say such things or those who listen to them. To the weakest of terrestrial things, he says, God has given names in common with the most honourable, though not giving them an equal share of dignity. Let us examine what is meant by this. The weakest things, he says, are dignified with the bare name belonging to the honourable, their nature not corresponding with their name. And this he states to be the work of the God of truth — to dignify the worse nature with the worthier appellation! On the other hand, he says that God applies the less honourable names to things superior in their nature, the nature of the latter not being carried over to the former along with the appellation. But that the matter may be made plainer still, the absurdity shall be shown by actual instances. If any one should call a man who is esteemed for every virtue, intemperate; or, on the other hand, a man equally in disrepute for his vices, good and moral, would sensible people think him of sound mind, or one who had any regard for truth, reversing, as would be the case, the meanings of words, and giving them a non-natural signification? I for my part think not. He speaks, then, of things relating to God, out of all keeping with our common ideas and with the holy Scriptures. For in matters of ordinary life it is only those who are unsettled by drink or madness that go wrong in names, and use them out of their proper meaning, calling, it may be, a man a dog, or vice versa. But Holy Scripture is so far from sanctioning such confusion, that we may clearly hear the voice of prophecy lamenting it. Woe unto him, says Isaiah, that calls darkness light, and light darkness, that calls bitter sweet, and sweet bitter Isaiah 5:20. Now what induces Eunomius to apply this absurdity to his God? Let those who are initiated in his mysteries say what they judge those weakest of terrestrial things to be, which God has dignified with most honourable appellations. The weakest of existing things are those animals whose generation takes place from the corruption of moist elements, as the most honourable are virtue, and holiness, and whatever else is pleasing in the sight of God. Are flies, then, and midges, and frogs, and whatever insects are generated from dung, dignified with the names of holiness and virtue, so as to be consecrated with honourable names, though not sharing in such high qualities, as says Eunomius? But never as yet have we heard anything like this, that these weak things are called by high-sounding titles, or that what is great and honourable by nature is degraded by the name of any one of them. Noah was a righteous man, says the Scripture, Abraham was faithful, Moses meek, Daniel wise, Joseph chaste, Job blameless, David perfect in patience. Let them say, then, whether all these had their names by contraries; or, to take the case of those who are unfavourably spoken of, as Nabal the Carmelite, and Pharaoh the Egyptian, and Abimelech the alien, and all those who are mentioned for their vices, whether they were dignified with honourable names by the voice of God. Not so! But God judges and distinguishes His creatures as they are in nature and truth, not by names contrary to them, but by such appropriate appellations as may give the clearest idea of their meaning.

This is what our strong-minded opponent—who accuses us of dishonesty and charges us with being irrational in judgment—this is what he pretends to know about the Divine nature. These are the opinions he puts forward about God, as if God mocks His creatures with names that do not correspond to their true meaning, giving the weakest things the most honorable titles and pouring contempt on the honorable by making them identical with what is base. Now a virtuous person, even if carried beyond the limits of truth involuntarily, is overwhelmed with shame. Yet Eunomius thinks it is no shame to God that He should appear to give a false impression of things through their names. The Scriptures do not give this kind of testimony about the Divine nature. God is patient and full of mercy and truth, says David. But how can He be a God of truth if He gives false names to things and perverts the truth in the meanings of their names? Again, he is called a righteous Lord. Is it righteous to honor things that lack honor with honorable names, and while giving the bare name, to withhold the honor that it signifies? This is the testimony these theologians give about their newfangled God. This is the result of their boasted skill in dialectic: to portray God Himself delighting in deception and not above the passion of jealousy. For surely it is nothing better than deception to fail to name weak things as they truly are in their nature and worth, but instead to clothe them with empty names borrowed from superior things, without making their value match their name. And it is nothing better than jealousy if, having the power to give the more honorable name to things being named for some superiority, He begrudged them the honor itself, considering the happiness of the weak a personal loss to Himself. But I would recommend that all who are wise, even if the God of these Gnostics is shown by logical necessity to be of such a character, should not think this way about the true God, the Only-begotten, but should look at the truth of facts, giving each of them their due, and from this deduce His name. Come, you blessed, says our Lord, and again, Depart, you cursed, not honoring the one who deserves cursing with the name of blessed, nor dismissing the one who has stored up blessing for himself along with the wicked.

This it is that our strong-minded opponent, who accuses us of dishonesty, and charges us with being irrational in judgment — this it is that he pretends to know of the Divine nature. These are the opinions that he puts forth respecting God, as though He mocked His creatures with names untrue to their meaning, bestowing on the weakest the most honourable appellations, and pouring contempt on the honourable by making them synonymous with the base. Now a virtuous man, if carried, even involuntarily, beyond the limits of truth, is overwhelmed with shame. Yet Eunomius thinks it no shame to God that He should seem to give a false color to things by their appellations. Not such is the testimony of the Scriptures to the Divine nature. God is long-suffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth, says David. But how can He be a God of truth Who gives false names to things, and Who perverts the truth in the meanings of their names? Again, He is called by him a righteous Lord. Is it, then, a righteous thing to dignify things without honour by honourable names, and, while giving the bare name, to grudge the honour that it denotes? Such is the testimony of these Theologians to their new-fangled God. This is the end of their boasted dialectic cleverness, to display God Himself delighting in deceit, and not superior to the passion of jealousy. For surely it is no better than deceit not to name weak things, as they are in their true nature and worth, but to invest them with empty names, derived from superior things, not proportioning their value to their name; and it is no better than jealousy if, having it in His power to bestow the more honourable appellation on things to be named for some superiority, He grudged them the honour itself, as deeming the happiness of the weak a loss to Himself personally. But I should recommend all who are wise, even if the God of these Gnostics is by stress of logic shown to be of such a character, not to think thus of the true God, the Only-begotten, but to look at the truth of facts, giving each of them their due, and thence to deduce His name. Come, you blessed, says our Lord; and again, Depart, you cursed Matthew 25:34, not honouring him who deserves cursing with the name of blessed, nor, on the other hand, dismissing him who has treasured up for himself the blessing, along with the wicked.

But what does our author mean, and what is the goal of this argument? No one should think that because he lacked something to say, in order to make his work seem longer, he has gone on with all this meaningless rambling. His very lack of sense has a purpose and hints at heresy. By saying that the most honorable names are given to the weakest things, even though those things do not naturally share an equal portion of dignity, he secretly prepares the way for the blasphemy that follows, so he can teach his followers this: that although the Only-begotten is called God, and Wisdom, and Power, and Light, and the Truth, and the Judge, and the King, and God over all, and the great God, and the Prince of peace, and the Father of the world to come, and so on, His honor is limited to the name alone.

But what is our author's meaning, and what is the object of this argument of his? For no one need imagine that, for lack of something to say, in order that he may seem to extend his discourse to the utmost, he has indulged in all this senseless twaddle. Its very senselessness is not without a meaning, and smacks of heresy. For to say that the most honourable names are applied to the weakest things, though not having by nature an equal apportionment of dignity, secretly paves the way, as it were, for the blasphemy to follow, that he may teach his disciples this; that although the Only-begotten is called God, and Wisdom, and Power, and Light, and the Truth, and the Judge, and the King, and God over all, and the great God, and the Prince of peace, and the Father of the world to come, and so forth, His honour is limited to the name.

He does not actually share in the dignity that the meaning of those names indicates. The wise Daniel, when correcting the Babylonians' idolatrous error so they would not worship the bronze image or the dragon but would reverence the name of God (which people in their foolishness had attributed to those things), clearly demonstrated by his actions that the high and exalted name of God bore no resemblance to the reptile or to the molten bronze image. But this enemy of God works hard in his teaching to prove exactly the opposite regarding the Only-begotten Son of God. He declares in his characteristic style: Do not pay attention to the names that our Lord shares in such a way as to conclude that He possesses an unspeakable and sublime nature. For many of the weakest things are also given honorable names that sound impressive, even though their nature is not transformed to match the greatness of their titles. Accordingly, he says that inferior things receive honor from God only in terms of their names, with no corresponding equality of dignity accompanying what they are called. Therefore, when we have learned all the names of the Son that carry lofty meaning, we must remember that the honor these names imply is attributed to Him only at the level of words, but that according to the system of naming they use, He does not actually share in the dignity that the words signify.

He does not, in fact, partake of that dignity which the meaning of those names indicates; and whereas wise Daniel, in setting right the Babylonians' error of idolatry, that they should not worship the brazen image or the dragon, but reverence the name of God, which men in their folly had ascribed to them, clearly showed by what he did that the high and lofty name of God had no likeness to the reptile, or to the image of molten brass — this enemy of God exerts himself in his teaching to prove the very opposite of this in regard to the Only-begotten Son of God, exclaiming in the style which he affects, Do not regard the names of which our Lord is a partaker, so as to infer His unspeakable and sublime nature. For many of the weakest things are likewise invested with names of honour, lofty indeed in sound, though their nature is not transformed so as to come up to the grandeur of their appellations. Accordingly he says that inferior things receive their honour from God only so far as their names go, no equality of dignity accompanying their appellations. When, therefore, we have learned all the names of the Son that are of lofty signification, we must bear in mind that the honour which they imply is ascribed to Him only so far as the words go, but that, according to the system of nomenclature which they adopt, He does not partake of the dignity implied by the words.

But by dwelling on such nonsense, I fear I am secretly pleasing our opponents. For in setting the truth against their vain and empty words, I seem to be exhausting my audience's patience before we even reach the main battle. I will leave these points for my more learned hearers to address and continue with my task. Nor will I now address something he has said that is closely connected with our inquiry: that these things have been arranged so that human thought and conception can claim no authority over names. But who maintains that something not seen in its own hypostasis has authority over anything? For only creatures governed by their own deliberate will are capable of acting with authority. But thought and conception are operations of the mind that depend on the deliberate choice of speakers, having no independent hypostasis but existing only in the force of what is said. But this, he says, belongs to God, the Creator of all things, who applies suitable names to each thing named through limitations and rules of relation, operation, and proportion. But this is either complete nonsense or contradicts his earlier statements. For if he now claims that God assigns names suitable to their subjects, why does he argue, as we have seen, that God gives lofty names to dishonorable things without allowing them to share in the dignity their names indicate, and again, that He degrades lofty things with dishonorable names, though their physis is not affected by the lowliness of their names? But perhaps we are being unfair to him by subjecting his senseless jumble of phrases to such accusations. For they are completely alien to any sense—I do not mean only to reverent sense—and they will be found utterly devoid of reason by all who understand how to form accurate judgment in such matters. Since, then, like the fish called the sea-lung, what we see appears to have bulk and volume but turns out to be only viscous matter disgusting to see and even more disgusting to touch, I shall pass over his remarks in silence, considering that the best answer to his idle chatter. For it would be better that we not inquire what law governs operation, proportion, and relation, and who prescribes laws to God regarding rules and modes of proportion and relation, than that by occupying ourselves with such matters we should disgust our hearers and stray from more important inquiries.

But in dwelling on such nonsense I fear that I am secretly gratifying our adversaries. For in setting the truth against their vain and empty words, I seem to myself to be wearing out the patience of my audience before we come to the brunt of the battle. These points, then, I will leave it to my more learned hearers to dispose of, and proceed with my task. Nor will I now notice a thing he has said, which, however, is closely connected with our inquiry; viz. that these things have been so arranged that human thought and conception can claim no authority over names. But who is there that maintains that what is not seen in its own subsistence has authority over anything? For only those creatures that are governed by their own deliberate will are capable of acting with authority. But thought and conception are an operation of the mind, which depends on the deliberate choice of those who speak, having no independent subsistence, but subsisting only in the force of the things said. But this, he says, belongs to God, the Creator of all things, who, by limitations and rules of relation, operation, and proportion, applies suitable appellations to each of the things named. But this either is sheer nonsense, or contradicts his previous assertions. For if he now professes that God affixes names suitable to their subjects, why does he argue, as we have seen that God bestows lofty names on things without honour, not allowing them a share in the dignity which their names indicate, and again, that He degrades things of a lofty nature by names without honour, their nature not being affected by the meanness of their appellations? But perhaps we are unfair to him in subjecting his senseless collocation of phrases to such accusations as these. For they are altogether alien to any sense (I do not mean only to a sense in keeping with reverence), and they will be found to be utterly devoid of reason by all who understand how to form an accurate judgment in such matters. Since, then, like the fish called the sea-lung, what we see appears to have bulk and volume, which turns out, however, to be only viscous matter disgusting to look at, and still more disgusting to handle, I shall pass over his remarks in silence, deeming that the best answer to his idle effusions. For it would be better that we should not inquire what law governs operation, and proportion, and relation, and who it is that prescribes laws to God in respect to rules and modes of proportion and relation, than that, by busying ourselves in such matters, we should nauseate our hearers, and digress from more important matters of inquiry.

I'm afraid that everything we'll find in Eunomius' discourse will turn out to be just empty swelling and foam, so that what has already been said must necessarily end our argument, since his writings will provide no material to work with. Smoke or mist makes the air around it heavy and thick, and prevents the eye from functioning normally, yet it doesn't form itself into something solid enough that someone could grasp and hold it in their hands, or offer resistance when struck. If someone said the same thing about his pompous writing, the comparison would be accurate. A lot of nonsense is packed into his swollen and sticky discourse, and to someone without much discernment—like viewing mist from a distance—it seems to have some substance and form. But if you come closer and examine what is actually said, the theories slip from your grasp like smoke and vanish into nothing. They have no solidity or resistance to oppose the force of your argument. So it's difficult to know what to do. People who like to complain will find either option objectionable: whether we leap over his empty wordiness as if over a ravine and direct our argument toward level, open ground—against those points that seem to have some strength against the truth—or fight our absurd battle along the whole line of his foolishness. In the latter case, for those who don't love hard work, our labor extending over thousands of lines to no useful purpose will be tiresome and unprofitable. But if we attack only those points that seem to have some force against the truth, we'll give our adversaries a chance to accuse us of passing over arguments of theirs that we can't refute. Since two courses are open to us—either to take all their arguments one by one, or to run through only the more important ones—the first being tedious to our hearers, the second likely to be suspected by our opponents—I think it best to take a middle course, and in this way avoid criticism from either side as much as possible. What, then, is our method? After clearing away the rubbish from his worthless productions as well as we can, we will briefly run through the main points of his argument in such a way that we neither plunge needlessly into the depths of his nonsense, nor leave any of his statements unexamined. Now his whole treatise is an ambitious attempt to show that God speaks in the same way humans do, and that the Creator of all things gives them appropriate names that indicate the things themselves. Therefore, opposing himself to the person who argued that such names are given by that rational nature which we have received from God, he accuses him of error and of abandoning his fundamental proposition. Having brought this charge against him, he uses the following arguments to support his position.

But I fear that all we shall find in the discourse of Eunomius will turn out to be mere tumours and sea lungs, so that what has been said must necessarily close our argument, as his writings will supply no material to work on. For as a smoke or a mist makes the air in which it resides heavy and thick, and incapacitates the eye for the discharge of its natural function, yet does not form itself into so dense a body that he who will may grasp and hold it in his palms, and offer resistance to its stroke, so if one should say the same of his pompous piece of writing, the comparison would not be untrue. Much nonsense is worked up in his tumid and viscous discourse, and to one not gifted with over-much discernment, like a mist to one viewing it from afar, it seems to have some substance and shape, but if you come up to it and scrutinize what is said, the theories slip from your hold like smoke, and vanish into nothing, nor have they any solidity or resistance to oppose to the stroke of your argument. It is difficult, therefore, to know what to do. For to those who like to complain either alternative will seem objectionable; whether, leaping over his empty wordiness, as over a ravine, we direct the course of our argument to the level and open country, against those points which seem to have any strength against the truth, or form our absurd battle along the whole line of his inanities. For in the latter case, to those who do not love hard work, our labour, extending over some thousands of lines to no useful purpose, will be wearisome and unprofitable. But if we attack those points only which seem to have some force against the truth, we shall give occasion to our adversaries to accuse us of passing over arguments of theirs which we are unable to refute. Since, then, two courses are open to us, either to take all their arguments seriatim, or to run through those only which are more important — the one course tedious to our hearers, the other liable to be suspected by our assailants — I think it best to take a middle course, and so, as far as possible, to avoid censure on either hand. What, then, is our method? After clearing his vain productions, as well as we can, of the rubbish they have accumulated, we will summarily run through the main points of his argument in such a way as neither to plunge needlessly into the profundities of his nonsense, nor to leave any of his statements unexamined. Now his whole treatise is an ambitious attempt to show that God speaks after the manner of men, and that the Creator of all things gives them suitable names, indicative of the things themselves. And, therefore, opposing himself to him who contended that such names are given by that rational nature which we have received from God, he accuses him of error, and of desertion from his fundamental proposition: and having brought this charge against him, he uses the following arguments in support of his position.

Eunomius says that Basil claims we first get a basic idea of something, and then a more detailed and precise investigation of that thing is called conception. Eunomius thinks he disproves this with the following argument: where you don't find both this first notion and this second, more detailed and precise notion, the mental activity we call thought and conception doesn't occur. However, anyone who listens carefully will recognize his dishonesty here. Our teacher Basil didn't lay down this definition for all thought and conception. Instead, after making a specific division within the objects of thought and conception—without burdening the discussion with too many words—and after clarifying this particular category, he left it to sensible people to figure out the whole from this part on their own. Similarly, if someone said we get our definition of an animal by examining various species of animals, he couldn't be accused of missing the truth if he used man as an example. There would be no need to correct him as mistaken unless he gave the same definition for a bird, a four-footed animal, or a sea creature as he did for a man. In the same way, since there are so many different perspectives from which we can consider this conception, it's no refutation of Basil's statement to say it's improperly named in one case just because another species exists. Therefore, even if another species comes under consideration, it doesn't mean the one previously identified was wrongly named. Now, he says, if one of the Apostles or Prophets could be shown to have used these names for Christ, the falsehood would have some support. What diligent study of God's word these remarks demonstrate from our opponent! None of the Prophets or Apostles spoke of our Lord as Bread, or a Stone, or a Fountain, or an Axe, or Light, or a Shepherd! What then does David say, and about whom? The Lord shepherds me. You who shepherd Israel, give ear. What difference does it make whether He is spoken of as shepherding or as a Shepherd? And again, With You is the Well of life. Does he deny that our Lord is called a Well? And again, The Stone which the builders rejected. And John too—when he represents our Lord's power to uproot evil under the image of an axe, saying, And now the Axe is laid to the root of the trees—isn't he a weighty and credible witness to the truth of our words?

Basil, he says, asserts that after we have obtained our first idea of a thing, the more minute and accurate investigation of the thing under consideration is called conception. And Eunomius disproves this, as he thinks, by the following argument, that where this first, and this second notion, i.e. one more minute and accurate than the other, are not found, the operation which we call thought and conception does not find place. Here, however, he will be convicted of dishonesty by all who have ears to hear. For it was not of all thought and conception that our master (Basil) laid down this definition, but, after making a special subdivision of the objects of thought and conception (not to encumber the question with too many words), and having made this part clear, he left men of sense to reason out the whole from the part for themselves. And as, if any one should say that we get our definition of an animal from considering a number of animals of different species, he could not be convicted of missing the truth in making man an instance in point, nor would there be any need to correct him as deviating from the fact, unless he should give the same definition of a winged, or four-footed, or aquatic animal as of a man, so, when the points of view from which we may consider this conception are so many and various, it is no refutation of Basil's statement to say that it is improperly so called in one case because there is another species. Accordingly, even if another species come under consideration, it by no means follows that the one previously given is erroneously so called. Now if, says he, one of the Apostles or Prophets could be shown to have used these names of Christ, the falsehood would have something for its encouragement. To what industrious study of the word of God on the part of our opponent do not these words bear testimony! None of the Prophets or Apostles has spoken of our Lord as Bread, or a Stone, or a Fountain, or an Axe, or Light, or a Shepherd! What, then, says David, and of whom? The Lord shepherds me. You Who shepherdest Israel, give ear. What difference does it make whether He is spoken of as shepherding, or as a Shepherd? And again, With You is the Well of life. Does he deny that our Lord is called a Well? And again, The Stone which the builders rejected Matthew 21:42. And John, too — where, representing our Lord's power to uproot evil under the name of an axe, he says, And now also the Axe is laid to the root of the trees Matthew 3:10 — is he not a weighty and credible witness to the truth of our words?

And Moses, seeing God in the light, and John calling Him the true Light, and in the same way Paul, when our Lord first appeared to him and a Light shone around him, and afterwards when he heard the words of the Light saying, "I am Jesus, whom you persecute"—is he not a competent witness? And regarding the name Bread, let him read the Gospel and see how the bread given by Moses and supplied to Israel from heaven was taken by our Lord as a type of Himself: "For Moses gave you not that Bread, but My Father gives you the true Bread" (meaning Himself) "which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world." But this genuine hearer of the law says that none of the Prophets or Apostles has applied these names to Christ. What shall we say, then, of what follows? Even if our Lord Himself adopts them, yet since in the Savior's names there is no first or second, none more minute or accurate than another, for He knows them all at once with equal accuracy, it is not possible to apply his (Basil's) account of the operation of conception to any of His names.

And Moses, seeing God in the light, and John calling Him the true Light, and in the same way Paul, when our Lord first appeared to him, and a Light shone round about him, and afterwards when he heard the words of the Light saying, I am Jesus, Whom you persecute. Acts 9:5, — is he not a competent witness? And as regards the name Bread, let him read the Gospel and see how the bread given by Moses, and supplied to Israel from heaven, was taken by our Lord as a type of Himself: For Moses gave you not that Bread, but My Father gives you the true Bread (meaning Himself) which comes down from heaven and gives life unto the world. But this genuine hearer of the law says that none of the Prophets or Apostles has applied these names to Christ. What shall we say, then, of what follows? Even if our Lord Himself adopts them, yet, since in the Saviour's names there is no first or second, none more minute or accurate than another, for He knows them all at once with equal accuracy, it is not possible to accommodate his (Basil's) account of the operation of conception to any of His names.

I have flooded my discussion with much of his nonsense, but I trust my readers will forgive me for not leaving unnoticed even the most glaring of his foolish statements. I do this not because we take pleasure in our author's inappropriate behavior (for what advantage can we gain from refuting our adversaries' foolishness?), but so that truth may be advanced by confirmation from whatever source. Since, he says, our Lord applies these titles to Himself, not considering any one of them first, or second, or more precise and accurate than the rest, you cannot say that these names are the result of conception. Why, he has forgotten his own point! How does he know the words against which he declares war? Our teacher and guide had mentioned an example familiar to everyone, to illustrate the doctrine of conception, and having explained his meaning by simpler illustrations, he lifts the consideration of the question to higher things. He had said that the word grain, considered by itself, is one thing only as to substance, but that, as to the various properties we see in it, it varies its names, being called seed, and fruit, and food, and the like. Similarly, he says, our Lord is in respect to Himself what He is essentially, but when named according to the differences of His operations, He does not have one name in all cases, but takes a different name according to each notion produced in us from the operation. How, then, does what he says disprove our theory that it is possible for many names to be properly attached, according to the diversity of His operations and His relation to their effects, to the Son of God, though one in respect of the underlying reality, even as grain, though one, has various names assigned to it, according to the point of view from which we regard it? How, then, can what is said be overthrown by our saying that Christ used all these names of Himself? For the question was not who assigned them, but about the meaning of the names, whether they denote ousia, or whether they are derived from His operations by the process of conception. But our clever and strong-minded opponent, overturning our theory of conception, which declares that it is possible to find many names for one and the same subject, according to the meanings of its operations, attacks us vigorously, asserting that such names were not given to our Lord by another. But what does this have to do with the case at hand? Since these names are used by our Lord, will he not allow that they are names, or titles, or words expressing ideas? For if he will not admit them to be names, then, in doing away with the titles, he does away at the same time with the conception. But if he does not deny that these words are names, what harm can he do to our doctrine of conception by showing that such titles were given to our Lord, not by someone else, but by Himself? For what was said was this: that, as in the instance of grain, our Lord, though substantively One, bears titles appropriate to His operations. And as it is admitted that grain has its names by virtue of our conception of its associations, it was shown that these terms describing our Lord are not of His ousia, but are formed by the method of conception in our minds concerning Him. But our opponent deliberately avoids attacking these positions, and maintains that our Lord received these names from Himself, in the same way as, if one sought for the true interpretation of the name Isaac, whether it means laughter, as some say, or something else, one of Eunomius' way of thinking should confidently reply that the name was given to him as a child by his mother: but that, one might say, was not the question, that is, by whom the name was given, but what does it mean when translated into our language? And this being the point of the inquiry, whether our Lord's various titles were the result of conception, instead of being indicative of His ousia, he who thus seeks to demonstrate that they are not so derived because they are used by our Lord Himself—how can he be numbered among sensible people, fighting as he does against the truth, and equipping himself with such arguments for the fight that only serve to show the superior strength of his enemy?

I have deluged my discourse with much nonsense of his, but I trust my hearers will pardon me for not leaving unnoticed even the most glaring of his inanities; not that we take pleasure in our author's indecorum, (for what advantage can we derive from the refutation of our adversaries' folly?) but that truth may be advanced by confirmation from whatever quarter. Since, says he, our Lord applies these appellations to Himself, not deeming any one of them first, or second, or more minute and accurate than the rest, you cannot say that these names are the result of conception. Why, he has forgotten his own object! How comes he by the knowledge of the words against which he declares war? Our master and guide had made mention of an example familiar to all, in illustration of the doctrine of conception, and having explained his meaning by lower illustrations, he lifts the consideration of the question to higher things. He had said that the word grain, regarded by itself, is one thing only as to substance, but that, as to the various properties we see in it, it varies its appellations, being called seed, and fruit, and food, and the like. Similarly, says he, our Lord is in respect to Himself what He is essentially, but when named according to the differences of His operations, He has not one appellation in all cases, but takes a different name according to each notion produced in us from the operation. How, then, does what he says disprove our theory that it is possible for many appellations to be attached with propriety, according to the diversity of His operations, and His relation to their effects, to the Son of God, though one in respect of the underlying force, even as grain, though one, has various names apportioned to it, according to the point of view from which we regard it? How, then, can what is said be overthrown by our saying that Christ used all these names of Himself? For the question was not, who ascribed them, but about the meaning of the names, whether they denote essence, or whether they are derived from His operations by the process of conception. But our shrewd and strong-minded opponent, overturning our theory of conception, which declares that it is possible to find many appellations for one and the same subject, according to the significances of its operations, attacks us vigorously, asserting that such names were not given to our Lord by another. But what has this to do with the case in point? Since these names are used by our Lord, will he not allow that they are names, or appellations, or words expressive of ideas? For if he will not admit them to be names, then, in doing away with the appellations, he does away at the same time with the conception. But if he does not deny that these words are names, what harm can he do to our doctrine of conception by showing that such titles were given to our Lord, not by some one else, but by Himself? For what was said was this, that, as in the instance of grain, our Lord, though substantively One, bears epithets suitable to His operations. And as it is admitted that grain has its names by virtue of our conception of its associations, it was shown that these terms significative of our Lord are not of His essence, but are formed by the method of conception in our minds respecting Him. But our antagonist studiously avoids attacking these positions, and maintains that our Lord received these names from Himself, in the same way as, if one sought for the true interpretation of the name Isaac, whether it means laughter, as some say, or something else, one of Eunomius' way of thinking should confidently reply that the name was given to him as a child by his mother: but that, one might say, was not the question, i.e. by whom the name was given, but what does it mean when translated into our language? And this being the point of the inquiry, whether our Lord's various appellations were the result of conception, instead of being indicative of His essence, he who thus seeks to demonstrate that they are not so derived because they are used by our Lord Himself — how can he be numbered among men of sense, warring as he does against the truth, and equipping himself with such alliances for the war as serve to show the superior strength of his enemy?

Then going farther, as if he had achieved his goal up to this point, he takes up other accusations against us that he thinks are more difficult to answer than the previous ones. With many preliminary groans and attempts to prejudice his hearers against us and to sharpen their interest in his speech, he accuses us of trying to establish blasphemous doctrines and of attributing to our own thinking names that God assigned (though he never mentions what assignment he means, or when and where it happened). He also accuses us of throwing everything into confusion and identifying the ousia of the Only-begotten with his operation, without actually arguing the case or showing how we prove that ousia and operation are identical. He concludes with the same list of charges as follows: And now, going beyond this, he (Basil) slanders even the Most High with the vilest blasphemies, using at the same time incoherent language and illustrations that miss the point. Before investigating this, I would like to know what our language is incoherent from and what point it misses—not that I actually want to know, but only to demonstrate the confusion and obscurity of his speech, which he forces upon the credulous people among us, taking pride in his clever phrases that he proclaims to those who admire such things. He is apparently unaware that in the judgment of educated people, this speech of his will serve only as a record of his own disgrace.

Then going farther, as if his object were thus far attained, he takes up other charges against us, more difficult, as he thinks, to deal with than the former, and with many preliminary groans and attempts to prejudice his hearers against us, and to whet their appetite for his address, accusing us withal of seeking to establish doctrines savouring of blasphemy, and of ascribing to our own conception names assigned by God (though he nowhere mentions what assignment he refers to, nor when and where it took place), and, further, of throwing everything into confusion, and identifying the essence of the Only-begotten with his operation, without arguing the matter, or showing how we prove the identity of the essence and the operation, he winds up with the same list of charges, as follows: And now, passing beyond this, he (Basil) asperses even the Most High with the vilest blasphemies, using at the same time broken language, and illustrations wide of the mark. Now prior to inquiry, I should like to be told what our language is broken from, and what mark it is wide of; not that I want to know, except to show the confusion and obscurity of his address, which he dins into the ears of the old wives among our men, pluming himself on his nice phrases, which he mouths out to the admirers of such things, ignorant, as it would seem, that in the judgment of educated men this address of his will serve only as a memorial of his own infamy.

But all this is beside our purpose. I wish our charges against him were limited to this, and that he could be thought to err only in his manner of speaking, and not in matters of faith. After all, it would have been of relatively little importance to him to be praised or blamed for expressing himself in one style or another. But however that may be, the next part of his charges against us contains this in addition: He says that when considering the case of grain and of our Lord, after exercising his ideas in various ways upon them, he declares that even in the same way the most holy ousia of God admits of the same variety of conception. This is the most serious of his accusations, and it is in pursuing this that he delivers those heavy criticisms of his, charging what we have said with blasphemy, absurdity, and so forth. What, then, is the proof of our blasphemy? Eunomius says that he has mentioned certain well-known facts about grain—observing how it grows, and how when ripe it provides food, growing, multiplying, and being distributed by certain forces of nature—and, having mentioned these, he adds that it is only reasonable to suppose that the Only-begotten Son also admits of different modes of being conceived of, by reason of certain differences of operation, certain analogies, proportions, and relations. For he uses these terms respecting Him to excess. And is it not absurd, or rather blasphemous, to compare the Ungenerate with such objects as these? What objects? Why, grain, and God the Only-begotten! You see his cleverness. He wants to show that insignificant grain and God the Only-begotten are equally removed from the dignity of the Ungenerate. And to show that we are not treating his words unfairly, we may learn his meaning from the very words he has written. For, he asks, is it not absurd, or rather blasphemous, to compare the Ungenerate with these? And in speaking this way, he presents the case of grain and of our Lord as on the same level in terms of dignity, thinking it equally absurd to compare God with either. Now everyone knows that things equally distant from a given object have equality with respect to each other, so that according to our wise theologian the Maker of the worlds, who holds all nature in His hand, is shown to be on a par with the most insignificant seed, since He and grain to the same degree fall short of comparison with God. To such a level of blasphemy has he come!

But all this is beside our purpose. Would that our charges against him were limited to this, and that he could be thought to err only in his delivery, and not in matters of faith; since it would have been of comparatively little importance to him to be praised or blamed for expressing himself in one style or another. But however that may be, the sequel of his charges against us contains this in addition: Considering the case of grain (he says), and of our Lord, after exercising his conceptions in various ways upon them, he declares that even in like manner the most holy essence of God admits of the same variety of conception. This is the gravest of his accusations, and it is in prosecuting this that he rehearses those heavy invectives of his, charging what we have said with blasphemy, absurdity, and so forth. What, then, is the proof of our blasphemy? He has mentioned (says Eunomius) certain well-known facts about grain — perceiving how it grows, and how when ripe it affords food, growing, multiplying, and being dispensed by certain forces of nature — and, having mentioned these, he adds that it is only reasonable to suppose that the Only-begotten Son also admits of different modes of being conceived of, by reason of certain differences of operation, certain analogies, proportions, and relations. For he uses these terms respecting Him to satiety. And is it not absurd, or rather blasphemous, to compare the Ungenerate with such objects as these? — What objects? Why, grain, and God the Only-begotten! You see his artfulness. He would show that insignificant grain and God the Only-begotten are equally removed from the dignity of the Ungenerate. And to show that we are not treating his words unfairly, we may learn his meaning from the very words he has written. For, he asks, is it not absurd, or rather blasphemous, to compare the Ungenerate with these? And in thus speaking, he instances the case of grain and of our Lord as on a level in point of dignity, thinking it equally absurd to compare God with either. Now every one knows that things equally distant from a given object are possessed of equality as regards each other, so that according to our wise theologian the Maker of the worlds, Who holds all nature in His hand, is shown to be on a par with the most insignificant seed, since He and grain to the same degree fall short of comparison with God. To such a pitch of blasphemy has he come!

But it is time to examine the argument that leads to this profanity and see how it is logically connected with his whole discourse. After saying that it is absurd to compare God with grain and with Christ, he says that God is not, like them, subject to change. But regarding the Only-begotten, he keeps silence on the question of whether He too is not subject to change, thereby clearly suggesting that He is of lower dignity, in that we cannot compare Him, any more than we can compare grain, with God. He breaks off his discourse without using any argument to prove that the Son of God cannot be compared with the Father, as though our knowledge of the grain were sufficient to establish the inferiority of the Son in comparison with the Father. But he argues that the indestructibility of the Father does not actually attach to the Son. But if the True Life is an actuality that actuates itself, and if to live everlastingly means the same thing as never to be dissolved in destruction, I for myself do not yet assent to his argument, but will reserve myself for a more proper occasion. However, there is but one single notion in indestructibility, considered in reference to the Father and to the Son alike, and the indestructibility of the Father differs in no respect from that of the Son. No difference in indestructibility is observable either in degrees of intensity or in any other aspect of the process of destruction. This I say it is appropriate to assert both now and at all times, so as to reject the doctrine that in respect of indestructibility the Son has no communion with the Father. For as this indestructibility is understood in respect of the Father, so also it is not to be disputed in respect of the Son. To be incapable of dissolution means nearly, or rather precisely, the same thing in regard to whatever subject it is attributed to. What, then, makes him assert that only to the Ungenerate Deity does it belong to have this indestructibility not attaching to Him by reason of any energy, as though he would thereby show a difference between the Father and the Son? For if he supposes his own created God destructible, he clearly shows the essential divergence of natures by the difference between the destructible and the indestructible. But if neither is subject to destruction—and no degrees are to be found in pure indestructibility—how does he show that the Father cannot be compared with the Only-begotten Son, or what is meant by saying that indestructibility is not witnessed in the Father by reason of any energy? But he reveals his purpose in what follows. It is not because of His operations or energies, he says, that He is ungenerate and indestructible, but because He is Father and Creator. And here I must ask my hearers to give me their closest attention. How can he think the creative power of God and His Fatherhood identical in meaning? For he defines each alike as an energy, plainly and expressly affirming: God is not indestructible by reason of His energy, though He is called Father and Creator by reason of energies. If, then, it is the same thing to call Him Father and Creator of the world because either name is due to an energy as its cause, the results of His energies must be of the same kind, since it is through an energy that they both exist. But the blasphemy to which this logically leads is clear to everyone who can draw a conclusion. For myself, I should like to add my own deductions to my discussion. It is impossible that an energy or operation productive of a result should exist by itself without there being something to set the energy in motion. We say that a smith operates or works, but that the material on which his art is exercised is operated upon, or worked. These capacities, that of operating and that of being operated upon, must necessarily stand in a certain relation to each other, so that if one is removed, the remaining one cannot exist by itself. For where there is nothing operated upon there can be nothing operating. What, then, does this prove? If the energy which is productive of anything does not exist by itself, there being nothing for it to operate upon, and if the Father, as they affirm, is nothing but an energy, the Only-begotten Son is thereby shown to be capable of being acted upon, in other words, molded in accordance with the motive energy that gives Him His subsistence. For just as we say that the Creator of the world, by laying down some yielding material capable of being acted upon, gave His creative being a field for its exercise—in the case of things perceptible by sense, skillfully investing the subject with various and multiform qualities for production, but in the case of intellectual essences giving shape to the subject in another way, not by qualities but by impulses of choice—so, if anyone defines the Fatherhood of God as an energy, he cannot otherwise indicate the subsistence of the Son than by comparing it with some material acted upon and worked to completion. For if it could not be operated upon, it would of necessity offer resistance to the operator, whose energy being thus hindered, no result would be produced. Either, then, they must make the essence of the Only-begotten subject to being acted upon, so that the energy may have something to work upon, or, if they shrink from this conclusion on account of its manifest impiety, they are driven to the conclusion that it has no existence at all. For what is naturally incapable of being acted upon cannot itself admit the creative energy. He, then, who defines the Son as the effect of an energy defines Him as one of those things which are subject to being acted upon and which are produced by an energy. Or, if he denies such susceptibility, he must at the same time deny His existence. But since impiety is involved in either alternative of the dilemma—that of asserting His non-existence and that of regarding Him as capable of being acted upon—the truth is made manifest, being brought to light by the removal of these absurdities. For if He truly exists and is not subject to being acted upon, it is plain that He is not the result of an energy but is proved to be very God of very God the Father, without liability to being acted upon, beaming from Him and shining forth from everlasting.

But it is time to examine the argument that leads to this profanity, and see how, as regards itself, it is logically connected with his whole discourse. For after saying that it is absurd to compare God with grain and with Christ, he says of God that He is not, like them, subject to change; but in respect to the Only-begotten, keeping silence on the question whether He too is not subject to change, and thereby clearly suggesting that He is of lower dignity, in that we cannot compare Him, any more than we can compare grain, with God, he breaks off his discourse without using any argument to prove that the Son of God cannot be compared with the Father, as though our knowledge of the grain were sufficient to establish the inferiority of the Son in comparison with the Father. But he discourses of the indestructibility of the Father, as not in actuality attaching to the Son. But if the True Life is an actuality, actuating itself, and if to live everlastingly means the same thing as never to be dissolved in destruction, I for myself do not as yet assent to his argument, but will reserve myself for a more proper occasion. That, however, there is but one single notion in indestructibility, considered in reference to the Father and to the Son alike, and that the indestructibility of the Father differs in no respect from that of the Son, no difference as to indestructibility being observable either in remission and intension, or in any other phase of the process of destruction, this, I say, it is seasonable both now and at all times to assert, so as to preclude the doctrine that in respect of indestructibility the Son has no communion with the Father. For as this indestructibility is understood in respect of the Father, so also it is not to be disputed in respect of the Son. For to be incapable of dissolution means nearly, or rather precisely, the same thing in regard to whatever subject it is attributed to. What, then, induces him to assert, that only to the Ungenerate Deity does it belong to have this indestructibility not attaching to Him by reason of any energy, as though he would thereby show a difference between the Father and the Son? For if he supposes his own created God destructible, he well shows the essential divergence of natures by the difference between the destructible and the indestructible. But if neither is subject to destruction — and no degrees are to be found in pure indestructibility — how does he show that the Father cannot be compared with the Only-begotten Son, or what is meant by saying that indestructibility is not witnessed in the Father by reason of any energy? But he reveals his purpose in what follows. It is not because of His operations or energies, he says, that He is ungenerate and indestructible, but because He is Father and Creator. And here I must ask my hearers to give me their closest attention. How can he think the creative power of God and His Fatherhood identical in meaning? For he defines each alike as an energy, plainly and expressly affirming, God is not indestructible by reason of His energy, though He is called Father and Creator by reason of energies. If, then, it is the same thing to call Him Father and Creator of the world because either name is due to an energy as its cause, the results of His energies must be homogeneous, inasmuch as it is through an energy, that they both exist. But to what blasphemy this logically tends is clear to every one who can draw a conclusion. For myself, I should like to add my own deductions to my disquisition. It is impossible that an energy or operation productive of a result should subsist of itself without there being something to set the energy in motion; as we say that a smith operates or works, but that the material on which his art is exercised is operated upon, or wrought. These faculties, therefore, that of operating, and that of being operated upon, must needs stand in a certain relation to each other, so that if one be removed, the remaining one cannot subsist of itself. For where there is nothing operated upon there can be nothing operating. What, then, does this prove? If the energy which is productive of anything does not subsist of itself, there being nothing for it to operate upon, and if the Father, as they affirm, is nothing but an energy, the Only-begotten Son is thereby shown to be capable of being acted upon, in other words, moulded in accordance with the motive energy that gives Him His subsistence. For as we say that the Creator of the world, by laying down some yielding material, capable of being acted upon, gave His creative being a field for its exercise, in the case of things sensible skilfully investing the subject with various and multiform qualities for production, but in the case of intellectual essences giving shape to the subject in another way, not by qualities, but by impulses of choice, so, if any one define the Fatherhood of God as an energy, he cannot otherwise indicate the subsistence of the Son than by comparing it with some material acted upon and wrought to completion. For if it could not be operated upon, it would of necessity offer resistance to the operator: whose energy being thus hindered, no result would be produced. Either, then, they must make the essence of the Only-begotten subject to be acted upon, that the energy may have something to work upon, or, if they shrink from this conclusion, on account of its manifest impiety, they are driven to the conclusion that it has no existence at all. For what is naturally incapable of being acted upon, cannot itself admit the creative energy. He, then, who defines the Son as the effect of an energy, defines Him as one of those things which are subject to be acted upon, and which are produced by an energy. Or, if he deny such susceptibility, he must at the same time deny His existence. But since impiety is involved in either alternative of the dilemma, that of asserting His non- existence, and that of regarding Him as capable of being acted upon, the truth is made manifest, being brought to light by the removal of these absurdities. For if He verily exists, and is not subject to be acted upon, it is plain that He is not the result of an energy, but is proved to be very God of very God the Father, without liability to be acted upon, beaming from Him and shining forth from everlasting.

But in His very essence, he says, God is indestructible. Well, what other conceivable attribute of God does not attach to the very essence of the Son—such as justice, goodness, eternity, incapacity for evil, or infinite perfection in all conceivable goodness? Will anyone dare to say that any of the virtues in the divine nature are acquired, or deny that all good whatsoever springs from and is seen in it? For whatever is good is from Him, and whatever is lovely is from Him. But he adds to this that God is in His very essence ungenerate too. Now, if he means by this that the Father's essence is ungenerate, I agree with what is said and do not oppose his teaching, for none of the orthodox maintains that the Father of the Only-begotten is Himself begotten. But if, while his wording suggests only this, he actually maintains that ungeneracy itself is the essence, I say we must not leave such a position unexamined, but expose his attempt to win the assent of the unwary to his blasphemy.

But in His very essence, he says, God is indestructible. Well, what other conceivable attribute of God does not attach to the very essence of the Son, as justice, goodness, eternity, incapacity for evil, infinite perfection in all conceivable goodness? Is there one who will venture to say that any of the virtues in the Divine nature are acquired, or to deny that all good whatsoever springs from and is seen in it? For whatsoever is good is from Him, and whatsoever is lovely is from Him. But he appends to this, that He is in His very essence ungenerate too. Well, if he means by this that the Father's essence is ungenerate, I agree with what is said, and do not oppose his doctrine: for not one of the orthodox maintains that the Father of the Only-begotten is Himself begotten. But if, while the form of his expression indicates only this, he maintains that the ungeneracy itself is the essence, I say that we ought not to leave such a position unexamined, but expose his attempt to gain the assent of the unwary to his blasphemy.

That the idea of ungeneracy and the belief in the Divine essence are quite different things can be seen from what he himself has put forward. God, he says, is indestructible and ungenerate by His very essence, since He is unmixed and pure from all diversity and difference. This is what he says about God, whose essence he declares to be indestructibility and ungeneracy. There are three names, then, that he applies to God: being, indestructibility, ungeneracy. If the idea of these three words with respect to God is one, it follows that the Godhead and these three are identical. It's just like if someone, wanting to describe a human being, should say that he is a rational, able-to-laugh, and broad-nailed creature. Because there is no essential variation from these qualities in individual humans, we say that the terms are equivalent to each other, and that the three things seen in the subject are one thing—namely, humanity as described by these names. If, then, Godhead means this—ungeneracy, indestructibility, being—then by doing away with one of these he necessarily does away with the Godhead. For just as we would say that a creature which was neither rational nor able to laugh was not human either, so in the case of these three terms (ungeneracy, indestructibility, being), if the Godhead is described by these, should one of the three be absent, its absence destroys the definition of Godhead. Let him tell us, then, in reply, what opinion he holds about God the Only-begotten. Does he think Him generate or ungenerate? Of course he must say generate, unless he wants to contradict himself. If, then, being and indestructibility are equivalent to ungeneracy, and by all of these Godhead is denoted, then whoever lacks ungeneracy must also lack being and indestructibility, and in that case the Godhead must also necessarily be taken away. And so his blasphemous logic brings him to a twofold conclusion. For if being, indestructibility, and ungeneracy are applied to God in the same sense, our new God-maker is clearly convicted of regarding the Son he has created as destructible, by his not regarding Him as ungenerate. Not only that, but he regards the Son as altogether without being, through his inability to see Him in the Godhead—since he views Him as one in whom ungeneracy and indestructibility are not found, because he takes ungeneracy and indestructibility to be identical with being. But since in this there is obvious destruction, let someone counsel these unhappy people to turn to the only course left to them, and instead of setting themselves in open opposition to the truth, to allow that each of these terms has its own proper meaning, which can be seen even better from their contraries. For we find ungenerate set against generate, and we understand the indestructible by its opposition to the destructible, and being by contrast with that which has no subsistence. For just as that which was not generated is called ungenerate, and that which is not destructible is called indestructible, so that which is not non-existent we call being. Conversely, just as we do not call the generate ungenerate, nor the destructible indestructible, so that which is non-existent we do not call being. Being, then, is discernible in the being this or that, goodness or indestructibility in the being of this or of that kind, generacy or ungeneracy in the manner of the being. And thus the ideas of being, manner, and quality are distinct from each other.

Now that the idea of ungeneracy and the belief in the Divine essence are quite different things may be seen by what he himself has put forward. God, he says, is indestructible and ungenerate by His very essence, as being unmixed and pure from all diversity and difference. This he says of God, Whose essence he declares to be indestructibility and ungeneracy. There are three names, then, that he applies to God, being, indestructibility, ungeneracy. If the idea of these three words in respect of God is one, it follows that the Godhead and these three are identical. Just as if any one, wanting to describe a man, should say that he was a rational, risible, and broad-nailed creature; whereupon, because there is no essential variation from these in the individuals, we say that the terms are equivalent to each other, and that the three things seen in the subject are one thing, viz. the humanity described by these names. If, then, Godhead means this, ungeneracy, indestructibility, being, by doing away with one of these he necessarily does away with the Godhead. For just as we should say that a creature which was neither rational nor risible was not man either, so in the case of these three terms (ungeneracy, indestructibility, being), if the Godhead is described by these, should one of the three be absent, its absence destroys the definition of Godhead. Let him tell us, then, in reply, what opinion he holds of God the Only-begotten. Does he think Him generate or ungenerate? Of course he must say generate, unless he is to contradict himself. If, then, being and indestructibility are equivalent to ungeneracy, and by all of these Godhead is denoted, to Whom ungeneracy is wanting, to Him being and indestructibility must needs be wanting also, and in that case the Godhead also must necessarily be taken away. And thus his blasphemous logic brings him to a twofold conclusion. For if being, and indestructibility, and ungeneracy are applied to God in the same sense, our new God-maker is clearly convicted of regarding the Son created by Him as destructible, by his not regarding Him as ungenerate, and not only so, but altogether without being, through his inability to see Him in the Godhead, as one in whom ungeneracy and indestructibility are not found, since he takes the ungeneracy and indestructibility to be identical with the being. But since in this there is manifest perdition, let some one counsel these unhappy folk to turn to the only course which is left them, and, instead of setting themselves in open opposition to the truth, to allow that each of these terms has its own proper signification, such as may be seen still better from their contraries. For we find ungenerate set against generate, and we understand the indestructible by its opposition to the destructible, and being by contrast with that which has no subsistence. For as that which was not generated is called ungenerate, and that which is not destructible is called indestructible, so that which is not non-existent we call being, and, conversely, as we do not call the generate ungenerate, nor the destructible indestructible, so that which is non-existent we do not call being. Being, then, is discernible in the being this or that, goodness or indestructibility in the being of this or of that kind, generacy or ungeneracy in the manner of the being. And thus the ideas of being, manner, and quality are distinct from each other.

But I think it's best to pass over his disgusting remarks (for that's what we must call his senseless attacks on the method of conception), and focus more pleasantly on the actual subject matter of our thought. For all the poison that our opponent has spewed out trying to overthrow our Master's reflections on conception is not the kind that poses any danger to those who encounter it, no matter how foolish they are or how easily deceived. Who is so lacking in understanding as to think there's anything worthwhile in what Eunomius says, or to see any cleverness in his tricks against the truth when he takes our Master's reference to grain (which he meant simply as an illustration, thereby providing his hearers with a kind of method and introduction to studying higher matters), and applies it literally to the Lord of all? Consider his claim that the most fitting reason for God's begetting the Son was His sovereign authority and power—which could be said not only regarding the universe and its elements, but also regarding beasts and creeping things—while our reverent theologian teaches that the same thing is fitting in our conception of God the Only-begotten. Or again, consider his saying that God was called ungenerate, or Father, or any other name, even before creatures existed to call Him such, as if he were afraid that if His name wasn't being spoken among creatures not yet born, He would be ignorant or forgetful of Himself, not knowing His own physis (nature) because His name wasn't being spoken. Consider also the insolence of his attack on our teaching—what bitterness, what cleverness he displays while trying to establish the absurdity of what he (Basil) said: namely, that He who was in a sense the Father before all ages and time, and all sensible and intellectual nature, must somehow wait for man's creation in order to be named through man's conception, not having been so named either by the Son or by any of the intelligent beings of His creation. Why, I imagine no one can be so incredibly stupid as to be unaware that God the Only-begotten, who is in the Father and who sees the Father in Himself, has no need of any name or title to make Him known, nor is the mystery of the Holy Spirit, who searches out the deep things of God, brought to our knowledge by a verbal designation, nor can the incorporeal nature of the supramundane powers name God by voice and tongue. For in the case of immaterial intellectual nature, mental activity itself is speech that has no need of material instruments of communication. Even in the case of human beings, we would have no need to use words and names if we could otherwise inform each other of our pure mental feelings and impulses. But as things are, since the thoughts that arise in us cannot be revealed in that way, because our nature is burdened with its fleshly envelope, we are forced to express to each other what goes on in our minds by giving things their respective names as signs of their meaning.

But it will be well, I think, to pass over his nauseating observations (for such we must term his senseless attacks on the method of conception), and dwell more pleasurably on the subject matter of our thought. For all the venom that our disputant has disgorged with the view of overthrowing our Master's speculations in regard to conception, is not of such a kind as to be dangerous to those who come in its way, however stupid they may be and liable to be imposed on. For who is so devoid of understanding as to think that there is anything in what Eunomius says, or to see any ingenuity in his artifices against the truth when he takes our Master's reference to grain (which he meant simply by way of illustration, thereby providing his hearers with a sort of method and introduction to the study of higher instances), and applies it literally to the Lord of all? To think of his assertion that the most becoming cause for God's begetting the Son was His sovereign authority and power, which may be said not only in regard to the universe and its elements, but in regard to beasts and creeping things; and of our reverend theologian teaching that the same is becoming in our conception of God the Only-begotten — or again, of his saying that God was called ungenerate, or Father, or any other name, even before the existence of creatures to call Him such, as being afraid lest, His name not being uttered among creatures as yet unborn, He should be ignorant or forgetful of Himself, through ignorance of His own nature because of His name being unspoken! To think, again, of the insolence of his attack upon our teaching; what acrimony, what subtlety does he display, while attempting to establish the absurdity of what he (Basil) said, namely that He Who was in a manner the Father before all worlds and time, and all sensitive and intellectual nature, must somehow wait for man's creation in order to be named by means of man's conception, not having been so named, either by the Son or by any of the intelligent beings of His creation! Why no one, I imagine, can be so densely stupid as to be ignorant that God the Only-begotten, Who is in the Father, and Who sees the Father in Himself, is in no need of any name or title to make Him known, nor is the mystery of the Holy Spirit, Who searches out the deep things of God 1 Corinthians 2:10, brought to our knowledge by a nominal appellation, nor can the incorporeal nature of supramundane powers name God by voice and tongue. For, in the case of immaterial intellectual nature, the mental energy is speech which has no need of material instruments of communication. For even in the case of human beings, we should have no need of using words and names if we could otherwise inform each other of our pure mental feelings and impulses. But (as things are), inasmuch as the thoughts which arise in us are incapable of being so revealed, because our nature is encumbered with its fleshly surrounding, we are obliged to express to each other what goes on in our minds by giving things their respective names, as signs of their meaning.

But if it were somehow possible to reveal the movements of thought by some other means, setting aside the formal use of words, we would communicate with one another more clearly and lucidly, displaying through thought itself the essential nature of the things we are examining. However, because we are unable to do this, we have assigned specific names to things—calling one Heaven, another Earth, and so forth—and as each thing relates to another, acts, or is acted upon, we have distinguished them with particular names so that our thoughts about them can be communicated and made known. But supramundane and immaterial nature, being free and independent of bodily form, needs no words or names either for itself or for what is above it. Whatever utterance from such intellectual nature is recorded in Holy Scripture is provided for the sake of the hearers, who would otherwise be unable to learn what is being presented unless it were communicated to them through voice and word. And if David in the spirit speaks of something being said by the Lord to the Lord, it is David himself who is speaking, since he cannot make known to us the teaching of what is meant except by expressing through voice and word his own understanding of the mysteries given to him by divine inspiration.

But if it were in any way possible by some other means to lay bare the movements of thought, abandoning the formal instrumentality of words, we should converse with one another more lucidly and clearly, revealing by the mere action of thought the essential nature of the things which are under consideration. But now, by reason of our inability to do so, we have given things their special names, calling one Heaven, another Earth, and so on, and as each is related to each, and acts or suffers, we have marked them by distinctive names, so that our thoughts in regard to them may not remain uncommunicated and unknown. But supramundane and immaterial nature being free and independent of bodily envelopment, requires no words or names either for itself or for that which is above it, but whatever utterance on the part of such intellectual nature is recorded in Holy Writ is given for the sake of the hearers, who would be unable otherwise to learn what is to be set forth, if it were not communicated to them by voice and word. And if David in the spirit speaks of something being said by the Lord to the Lord, it is David himself who is the speaker, being unable otherwise to make known to us the teaching of what is meant except by interpreting by voice and word his own knowledge of the mysteries given him by Divine inspiration.

I think it best to pass over all his arguments against the doctrine of conception, even though he accuses those who think the name of God—as humanity uses it to refer to the Supreme Being—results from this conception of being insane. Anyone who wishes can learn from his own words what he is thinking when he feels compelled to attack that doctrine. We have already stated our own view on the use of words: since things exist as they are in their nature, the rational faculty that God implanted in our nature invented words to indicate those actual things. If anyone attributes their origin to the Giver of this faculty, we would not disagree, for we too maintain that motion, sight, and the rest of the operations carried on by the senses are accomplished by the One who gave us such faculties. Therefore, the reason we name God, who is by His nature what He is, can by common agreement be traced back to Him, but the freedom to name all things we conceive of in one way or another lies in that aspect of our nature which—whether one wants to call it conception or something else—makes no difference to us. One sure piece of evidence in our favor is this: the Divine Being is not named the same way by everyone, but each person interprets his idea as he thinks best. Passing over in silence his worthless nonsense about conception, let us hold to our beliefs and simply note along the way some of the observations that appear in the midst of his empty speeches, where he pretends that God, sitting down with our first parents like some teacher or grammarian, gave them a lesson in words and names. Here he says that those who were first formed by God, or those who were born from them in continuous succession, would have lived together in dumbness and silence unless they had been taught what each thing should be called and named, and would have been unable to carry out any of the useful functions of life, since the meaning of each thing would be uncertain for lack of interpreters—verbs and nouns, no less. Such is this writer's delusion. He thinks the faculty God implanted in our nature is inadequate for any method of reasoning, and that unless it is taught each thing individually, like those who are taught Hebrew or Latin word by word, one must be ignorant of the nature of things, having no understanding of fire, water, air, or anything else unless one has learned about them through the names they bear. But we maintain that the One who made all things in His wisdom and who fashioned this living rational creature endowed him with all his rational faculties by the simple fact of implanting reason in his nature. Since we naturally possess our faculties of perception as a gift from the One who fashioned the eye and planted the ear, we can use them for their natural purposes on our own, and we do not need anyone to name the colors, for instance, that the eye perceives, for the eye is capable of informing itself about such things. Nor do we need someone else to acquaint us with the things we perceive through hearing, taste, or touch, since we possess within ourselves the means of discerning everything our perception tells us about. Likewise, we maintain that the intellectual faculty, originally made by God, acts on its own from then on when it observes realities, and to prevent confusion in its knowledge, it attaches some verbal marker to each thing as a stamp indicating its meaning. Great Moses himself confirms this teaching when he says that names were assigned by Adam to the animals, recording the fact in these words: "And out of the ground God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air, and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them, and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof. And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to all the beasts of the field."

All his argument, then, in opposition to the doctrine of conception I think it best to pass over, though he charge with madness those who think that the name of God, as used by mankind to indicate the Supreme Being, is the result of this conception. For what he is thinking of when he considers himself bound to revile that doctrine, all who will may learn from his own words. What opinion we ourselves hold on the use of words we have already stated, viz. that, things being as they are in regard to their nature, the rational faculty implanted in our nature by God invented words indicative of those actual things. And if any one ascribe their origin to the Giver of the faculty, we would not contradict him, for we too maintain that motion, and sight, and the rest of the operations carried on by the senses are effected by Him Who endowed us with such faculties. So, then, the cause of our naming God, Who is by His nature what He is, is referable by common consent to Himself, but the liberty of naming all things that we conceive of in one way or another lies in that thing in our nature, which, whether a man wish to call it conception or something else, we are quite indifferent. And there is this one sure evidence in our favour, that the Divine Being is not named alike by all, but that each interprets his idea as he thinks best. Passing over, then, in silence his rubbishy twaddle about conception, let us hold to our tenets, and simply note by the way some of the observations that occur in the midst of his empty speeches, where he pretends that God, seating Himself by our first parents, like some pedagogue or grammarian, gave them a lesson in words and names; wherein he says that they who were first formed by God, or those who were born from them in continuous succession, unless they had been taught how each several thing should be called and named, would have lived together in dumbness and silence, and would have been unequal to the discharge of any of the serviceable functions of life, the meaning of each being uncertain through lack of interpreters — verbs forsooth, and nouns. Such is the infatuation of this writer; he thinks the faculty implanted in our nature by God insufficient for any method of reasoning, and that unless it be taught each thing severally, like those who are taught Hebrew or Latin word by word, one must be ignorant of the nature of the things, having no discernment of fire, or water, or air, or anything else, unless one have acquired the knowledge of them by the names that they bear. But we maintain that He Who made all things in His wisdom, and Who moulded this living rational creature, by the simple fact of His implanting reason in his nature, endowed him with all his rational faculties. And as naturally possessing our faculties of perception by the gift of Him Who fashioned the eye and planted the ear, we can of ourselves employ them for their natural objects, and have no need of any one to name the colors, for instance, of which the eye takes cognizance, for the eye is competent to inform itself in such matters; nor do we need another to make us acquainted with the things which we perceive by hearing, or taste, or touch, possessing as we do in ourselves the means of discerning all of which our perception informs us. And so, again, we maintain that the intellectual faculty, made as it was originally by God, acts thenceforward by itself when it looks out upon realities, and that there be no confusion in its knowledge, affixes some verbal note to each several thing as a stamp to indicate its meaning. Great Moses himself confirms this doctrine when he says Genesis 2:19-20 that names were assigned by Adam to the brute creation, recording the fact in these words: And out of the ground God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air, and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them, and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof. And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to all the beasts of the field.

But the nonsense he has concocted against our teaching about conception seems to cling to us like some thick and sticky clay, holding us back and preventing us from moving on to more important matters. For how can anyone pass over his solemn and profound philosophy, such as when he says that God's greatness is seen not only in the works of His hands, but that His wisdom is also displayed in their names, which are adapted with such peculiar fitness to the nature (physis) of each work of His creation? Having perhaps come across Plato's Cratylus, or hearing about it from someone who had read it, he patched that nonsense onto his own argument because of his own poverty of ideas, acting like people who beg for their bread. For just as beggars receive some small amount from each person who gives to them and collect their bread from many different sources, so the discourse of Eunomius, because of his scanty supply of the true bread, busily collects scraps of phrases and ideas from everywhere. And so, being impressed by the beauty of Plato's style, he thinks it proper to make Plato's theory a doctrine of the Church. For by how many names, for example, is the created firmament called according to the varieties of language? We call it Heaven, the Hebrew calls it Samaim, the Roman calls it caelum, and other names are given to it by the Syrian, the Mede, the Cappadocian, the African, the Scythian, the Thracian, and the Egyptian. Nor would it be easy to list all the different names that are applied to Heaven and other objects by the different nations that use them. Which of these names, then, tell me, is the appropriate word in which the great wisdom of God is manifested? If you prefer the Greek name to the rest, the Egyptian will perhaps confront you with his own. And if you give first place to the Hebrew, there is the Syrian to claim precedence for his own word, nor will the Roman yield supremacy, nor will the Mede allow himself to be outdone, while each of the other nations will claim the prize. What, then, will become of his teaching when it is torn to pieces by the claimants for so many different languages? But by these names, he says, as by publicly announced laws, it is shown that God made names exactly suited to the nature (physis) of the things they represent. What a grand doctrine! What grand views our theologian assigns to the Divine teachings—such views as people do not even begrudge to bath attendants! For we allow them to give names to the operations they perform, and yet no one honors them as divine for inventing such names as foot-baths, depilatories, towels, and the like—words which appropriately designate the articles in question.

But, like some viscous and sticky clay, the nonsense he has concocted in contravention of our teaching of conception seems to hold us back, and prevent us from applying ourselves to more important matters. For how can one pass over his solemn and profound philosophy, as when he says that God's greatness is seen not only in the works of His hands, but that His wisdom is displayed in their names also, adapted as they are with such peculiar fitness to the nature of each work of His creation? Having perchance fallen in with Plato's Cratylus, or hearing from some one who had met with it, by reason, I suppose, of his own poverty of ideas, he attached that nonsense patchwise to his own, acting like those who get their bread by begging. For just as they, receiving some trifle from each who bestows it on them, collect their bread from many and various sources, so the discourse of Eunomius, by reason of his scanty store of the true bread, assiduously collects scraps of phrases and notions from all quarters. And thus, being struck by the beauty of the Platonic style, he thinks it not unseemly to make Plato's theory a doctrine of the Church. For by how many appellations, say, is the created firmament called according to the varieties of language? For we call it Heaven, the Hebrew calls it Samaim, the Roman cœlum, other names are given to it by the Syrian, the Mede, the Cappadocian, the African, the Scythian, the Thracian the Egyptian: nor would it be easy to enumerate the multiplicity of names which are applied to Heaven and other objects by the different nations that employ them. Which of these, then, tell me, is the appropriate word wherein the great wisdom of God is manifested? If you prefer the Greek to the rest, the Egyptian haply will confront you with his own. And if you give the first place to the Hebrew, there is the Syrian to claim precedence for his own word, nor will the Roman yield the supremacy, nor the Mede allow himself to be outdone; while of the other nations each will claim the prize. What, then, will be the fate of his dogma when torn to pieces by the claimants for so many different languages? But by these, says he, as by laws publicly promulgated, it is shown that God made names exactly suited to the nature of the things which they represent. What a grand doctrine! What grand views our theologian allows to the Divine teachings, such indeed as men do not grudge even to bathing-attendants! For we allow them to give names to the operations they engage in, and yet no one invests them with Divine honours for the invention of such names as foot-baths, depilatories, towels, and the like — words which appropriately designate the articles in question.

But I will pass over both this and their reading of Epicurus' nature-system, which he says is equivalent to our conception, maintaining that the doctrine of atoms and empty space, and the accidental generation of things, is similar to what we mean by conception. What an understanding of Epicurus! If we attribute words that express things to the logical faculty in our nature, we are thereby convicted of holding the Epicurean doctrine of indivisible bodies, combinations of atoms, the collision and rebound of particles, and so on. I say nothing of Aristotle, whom he takes as his own patron and the ally of his system, whose opinion, he says in his later remarks, coincides with our views about conception. For he says that philosopher taught that Providence does not extend through all nature, nor penetrate into the realm of earthly things, and this, Eunomius contends, corresponds to our discoveries in the field of conception. Such is his idea of determining a doctrine accurately! But he goes on to say that we must either deny that God created things, or, if we grant it, we must not deprive Him of the naming of things. And yet even with respect to the animal creation, as we have already said, we are taught the very opposite of both these alternatives by Holy Scripture—that Adam did not make the animals, nor did God name them, but the creation was the work of God, and the naming of the things created was the work of man, as Moses has recorded. Then in his own speech he gives us praise of speech in general, as though someone wished to disparage it, and after his extremely abusive and bombastic pile of words, he says that by a law and rule of His providence, God has combined the transmission of words with our knowledge and use of things necessary for our service. And after pouring out nonsense of this kind in the depths of his delusions, he passes on in his discourse to his supposedly irresistible and unanswerable argument. I will not state it word for word, but simply give the gist of it. We are not, he says, to attribute the invention of words to poets, who are greatly mistaken in their notions of God. What a generous concession he makes to God in crediting Him with the inventions of poetic craft, so that God may thereby seem more sublime and august to people, when the disciples of Eunomius believe that such expressions as those used by Homer for sideways, rang out, aside, mix, clung to his hand, hissed, thumped, rattled, clashed, rang terribly, twanged, shouted, pondered, and many others, are not used by poets by a certain arbitrary freedom, but that they introduce them into their poems by some mysterious revelation from God! Let this, too, be passed over, and also that clever and supposedly irresistible argument, that it is not in our power to cite Scriptural instances of holy men who have invented new terms. Now if human nature had been imperfect up to the time of such men's appearance, and not yet completed by the gift of reason, it would have been appropriate for them to seek that the deficiency might be supplied. But if from the very first man's nature existed self-sufficient and complete for all purposes of reason and thought, why should anyone, in order to establish this doctrine of conception, humor them so far as to look for instances where holy men originated sounds or names? Or, if we cannot produce any instances, why should anyone regard it as adequate proof that such and such syllables and words were appointed by God Himself?

But I will pass over both this and their reading of Epicurus' nature-system, which he says is equivalent to our conception, maintaining that the doctrine of atoms and empty space, and the fortuitous generation of things, is akin to what we mean by conception. What an understanding of Epicurus! If we ascribe words expressive of things to the logical faculty in our nature, we thereby stand convicted of holding the Epicurean doctrine of indivisible bodies, and combinations of atoms, and the collision and rebound of particles, and so on. I say nothing of Aristotle, whom he takes as his own patron, and the ally of his system, whose opinion, he says, in his subsequent remarks, coincides with our views about conception. For he says that that philosopher taught that Providence does not extend through all nature, nor penetrate into the region of terrestrial things, and this, Eunomius contends, corresponds to our discoveries in the field of conception. Such is his idea of determining a doctrine with accuracy! But he goes on to say that we must either deny the creation of things to God, or, if we concede it, we must not deprive Him of the imposition of names. And yet even in respect to the brute creation, as we have said already, we are taught the very opposite (of both these alternatives) by Holy Scripture — that neither did Adam make the animals, nor did God name them, but the creation was the work of God, and the naming of the things created was the work of man, as Moses has recorded. Then in his own speech he gives us an encomium of speech in general (as though some one wished to disparage it), and after his eminently abusive and bombastic conglomeration of words, he says that, by a law and rule of His providence, God has combined the transmission of words with our knowledge and use of things necessary for our service; and after pouring forth twaddle of this kind in the profundity of his slumbers, he passes on in his discourse to his irresistible and unanswerable argument. I will not state it in so many words, but simply give the drift of it. We are not, he says, to ascribe the invention of words to poets, who are much mistaken in their notions of God. What a generous concession does he make to God in investing Him with the inventions of the poetic faculty, so that God may thereby seem to men more sublime and august, when the disciples of Eunomius believe that such expressions as those used by Homer for side-ways, rang out, aside, mix, clung to his hand, hissed, thumped, rattled, clashed, rang terribly, twanged, shouted, pondered, and many others, are not used by poets by a certain arbitrary licence, but that they introduce them into their poems by some mysterious initiation from God! Let this, too, be passed over, and withal that clever and irresistible attempt, that it is not in our power to quote Scriptural instances of holy men who have invented new terms. Now if human nature had been imperfect up to the time of such men's appearance, and not as yet completed by the gift of reason, it would have been well for them to seek that the deficiency might be supplied. But if from the very first man's nature existed self-sufficing and complete for all purposes of reason and thought, why should any one, in order to establish this doctrine of conception, humour them so far as to seek for instances where holy men initiated sounds or names? Or, if we cannot adduce any instances, why should any one regard it as a sufficient proof that such and such syllables and words were appointed by God Himself?

But, he says, since God condescends to commune with His servants, we may consequently suppose that from the very beginning He enacted words appropriate to things. What, then, is our answer? We account for God's willingness to admit people to communion with Himself by His love for humanity. But since that which is by nature finite cannot rise above its prescribed limits or lay hold of the superior nature of the Most High, for this reason He brings His power, so full of love for humanity, down to the level of human weakness, as far as it is possible for us to receive it, and bestows on us this helpful gift of grace. For just as by divine dispensation the sun, tempering the intensity of his full beams with the intervening air, pours down light as well as heat on those who receive his rays, being himself unapproachable because of the weakness of our nature, so the divine power, after the manner of the illustration I have used, though exalted far above our nature and inaccessible to all approach, like a tender mother who joins in the inarticulate utterances of her baby, gives to our human nature what it is capable of receiving. And thus in the various manifestations of God to humanity He both adapts Himself to humanity and speaks in human language, and assumes wrath, and pity, and such emotions, so that through feelings corresponding to our own our infantile life might be led by the hand, and lay hold of the divine nature by means of the words which His foresight has given. For no one who has thought at all about the truth of things will deny that it is irreverent to imagine that God is subject to any passion such as we see in respect to pleasure, or pity, or anger. And yet the Lord is said to take pleasure in His servants, and to be angry with the backsliding people, and again to have mercy on whom He will have mercy, and to show compassion—the word teaching us in each of these expressions that God's providence helps our infirmity by using our own idioms of speech, so that those who are inclined to sin may be restrained from committing it by fear of punishment, and that those who are overtaken by it may not despair of return by the way of repentance when they see God's mercy, while those who are walking uprightly and strictly may yet more adorn their life with virtue, knowing that by their own life they rejoice Him Whose eyes are over the righteous. But just as we cannot call a man deaf who converses with a deaf man by means of signs—his only way of hearing—so we must not suppose speech in God because of His employing it by way of accommodation in addressing humanity. For we ourselves are accustomed to direct brute beasts by clucking and whistling and the like, and yet this, by which we reach their ears, is not our language, but we use our natural speech in talking to one another, while in regard to cattle, some suitable noise or sound accompanied with gesture is sufficient for all purposes of communication.

But, says he, since God condescends to commune with His servants, we may consequently suppose that from the very beginning He enacted words appropriate to things. What, then, is our answer? We account for God's willingness to admit men to communion with Himself by His love towards mankind. But since that which is by nature finite cannot rise above its prescribed limits, or lay hold of the superior nature of the Most High, on this account He, bringing His power, so full of love for humanity, down to the level of human weakness, so far as it was possible for us to receive it, bestowed on us this helpful gift of grace. For as by Divine dispensation the sun, tempering the intensity of his full beams with the intervening air, pours down light as well as heat on those who receive his rays, being himself unapproachable by reason of the weakness of our nature, so the Divine power, after the manner of the illustration I have used, though exalted far above our nature and inaccessible to all approach, like a tender mother who joins in the inarticulate utterances of her babe, gives to our human nature what it is capable of receiving; and thus in the various manifestations of God to man He both adapts Himself to man and speaks in human language, and assumes wrath, and pity, and such-like emotions, so that through feelings corresponding to our own our infantile life might be led as by hand, and lay hold of the Divine nature by means of the words which His foresight has given. For that it is irreverent to imagine that God is subject to any passion such as we see in respect to pleasure, or pity, or anger, no one will deny who has thought at all about the truth of things. And yet the Lord is said to take pleasure in His servants, and to be angry with the backsliding people, and, again, to have mercy on whom He will have mercy, and to show compassion — the word teaching us in each of these expressions that God's providence helps our infirmity by using our own idioms of speech, so that such as are inclined to sin may be restrained from committing it by fear of punishment, and that those who are overtaken by it may not despair of return by the way of repentance when they see God's mercy, while those who are walking uprightly and strictly may yet more adorn their life with virtue, as knowing that by their own life they rejoice Him Whose eyes are over the righteous. But just as we cannot call a man deaf who converses with a deaf man by means of signs, — his only way of hearing — so we must not suppose speech in God because of His employing it by way of accommodation in addressing man. For we ourselves are accustomed to direct brute beasts by clucking and whistling and the like, and yet this, by which we reach their ears, is not our language, but we use our natural speech in talking to one another, while, in regard to cattle, some suitable noise or sound accompanied with gesture is sufficient for all purposes of communication.

But our pious opponent will not allow God to use our language because of our tendency toward evil, closing his eyes (good man!) to the fact that for our sake He did not refuse to be made sin and a curse. Such is the overflow of His love for humanity that He willingly came to experience not only our good, but our evil. And if He shared in our evil, why should He refuse to share in speech, the noblest of our gifts? But he brings forward David as his support and claims that David said names were given to things by God, because it is written: He tells the number of the stars; He calls them all by their names. But I think it must be clear to every sensible person that what is said about the stars has nothing whatever to do with the subject. However, since it is quite possible that some people may carelessly agree with his statement, I will briefly discuss the point. Holy Scripture often attributes expressions to God that seem quite consistent with our own, for example: The Lord was angry, and it repented Him because of their sins; and again, He repented that He had anointed Saul king; and again, The Lord awaked as one out of sleep; and besides this, it mentions His sitting, and standing, and moving, and the like, which are not actually connected with God but are not without their usefulness as an accommodation to those who are being taught. For in the case of those who are too unrestrained, a show of anger holds them back through fear. And to those who need the medicine of repentance, it says that the Lord repents along with them of the evil, and those who become arrogant through prosperity it warns, by God's repentance regarding Saul, that their good fortune is not a guaranteed possession, though it may seem to come from God. To those who are not swallowed up by their sinful fall but who have risen from a life of vanity as from sleep, it says that God arises out of sleep. To those who stand firmly upon righteousness—that He stands. To those who are seated in righteousness—that He sits. And again, in the case of those who have moved away from their steadfastness in righteousness—that He moves or walks; as in the case of Adam, the sacred history records God's walking in the garden in the cool of the day, signifying by this the fall of the first man into darkness, and by the moving, his weakness and instability in regard to righteousness.

But our pious opponent will not allow of God's using our language, because of our proneness to evil, shutting his eyes ( good man!) to the fact that for our sakes He did not refuse to be made sin and a curse. Such is the superabundance of His love for man, that He voluntarily came to prove not only our good, but our evil. And if He was partaker in our evil, why should He refuse to be partaker in speech, the noblest of our gifts? But he advances David in his support, and declares that he said that names were imposed on things by God, because it is thus written, He tells the number of the stars; He calls them all by their names. But I think it must be obvious to every man of sense that what is thus said of the stars has nothing whatever to do with the subject. Since, however, it is not improbable that some may unwarily give their assent to his statement, I will briefly discuss the point. Holy Scripture oftentimes is wont to attribute expressions to God such that they seem quite accordant with our own, e.g. The Lord was angry, and it repented Him because of their sins; and again, He repented that He had anointed Saul king 1 Samuel 15:35; and again, The Lord awaked as one out of sleep; and besides this, it makes mention of His sitting, and standing, and moving, and the like, which are not as a fact connected with God, but are not without their use as an accommodation to those who are under teaching. For in the case of the too unbridled, a show of anger restrains them by fear. And to those who need the medicine of repentance, it says that the Lord repents along with them of the evil, and those who grow insolent through prosperity it warns, by God's repentance in respect to Saul, that their good fortune is no certain possession, though it seem to come from God. To those who are not engulfed by their sinful fall, but who have risen from a life of vanity as from sleep, it says that God arises out of sleep. To those who steadfastly take their stand upon righteousness — that He stands. To those who are seated in righteousness — that He sits. And again, in the case of those who have moved from their steadfastness in righteousness — that He moves or walks; as, in the case of Adam, the sacred history records God's walking in the garden in the cool of the day Genesis 3:8, signifying thereby the fall of the first man into darkness, and, by the moving, his weakness and instability in regard to righteousness.

But most people will probably think this is too far removed from what we're currently investigating. However, no one will consider this next point irrelevant to our subject: many people think that whatever is incomprehensible to them is equally incomprehensible to God, and that whatever escapes their own knowledge is also beyond His power to know. Now since we use number to measure quantity, and number is nothing more than a combination of units growing into multitude in a complex way (for the ten is a unit brought to that value by combining units, and likewise the hundred is a unit composed of tens, and in the same way the thousand is another unit, and so proportionally the ten thousand is another through multiplication, one being made up to its value by thousands, the other by hundreds, and by assigning all of these to their underlying class we create signs of the quantity of things being counted)—accordingly, in order that we might be taught by Holy Scripture that nothing is unknown to God, it tells us that the multitude of stars is numbered by Him, not that their numbering happens as I have described (for who is so simple as to think that God gains knowledge of things through odd and even numbers, and that by putting units together He arrives at the total of the collective quantity?), but since in our own case exact knowledge of quantity is obtained through number, in order that we might be taught regarding God that all things are comprehended by the knowledge of His wisdom, and that nothing escapes His precise awareness, Scripture represents God as numbering the stars, advising us through these words to understand that we must not imagine God takes note of things by the measure of human knowledge, but that all things, however incomprehensible and above human understanding, are embraced by the knowledge of the wisdom of God. For since the stars escape numbering because of their multitude, as far as our human conception is concerned, Holy Scripture, teaching the whole from the part, in saying they are numbered by God attests that not one of the things unknown to us escapes God's knowledge. And therefore it says, Who tells the multitude of the stars, certainly not meaning that He did not know their number beforehand; for how could He be ignorant of what He Himself created, seeing that the Ruler of the Universe could not be ignorant of what is comprehended in His power, which includes the worlds in its embrace? Why, then, would He number what He already knows? For measuring quantity by number is the part of those who need information. But He Who knew all things before they were created does not need number to inform Him. But when David says that He numbers the stars, it is clear that Scripture descends to such language in accordance with our understanding, to teach us symbolically that the things we do not know are accurately known to God. Just as He is said to number, though needing no arithmetical process to arrive at knowledge of created things, so also the Prophet tells us that He calls them all by their names, not meaning, I think, that He does so through any vocal utterance. For truly such language would result in a strangely unworthy conception of God, if it meant that these names in common use among ourselves were applied to the stars by God. For if anyone were to allow that these names were applied by God, it would follow that the names of the Greek idol gods were also applied by Him to the stars, and we would have to regard as true all the tales from mythological history told about those star names, as though God Himself authorized their utterance. Thus the distribution of the seven planets contained in the heavens among the Greek idols would excuse those who have erred regarding them, if people were persuaded that such an arrangement was God's doing. Thus the fables about Orion and the Scorpion would be believed, along with the legends about the ship Argo, the Swan, the Eagle, the Dog, and the mythical story of Ariadne's crown. Moreover, it would pave the way for supposing God to be the inventor of the names in the zodiacal circle, devised after some imagined resemblance in the constellations, if Eunomius is right in supposing that David said these names were given by God.

But most people, perhaps, will think this too far removed from the scope of our present inquiry. This, however, no one will regard as out of keeping with our subject; the fact that many think that what is incomprehensible to themselves is equally incomprehensible to God, and that whatever escapes their own cognizance is also beyond the power of His. Now since we make number the measure of quantity, and number is nothing else than a combination of units growing into multitude in a complex way (for the decad is a unit brought to that value by the composition of units, and again the hundred is a unit composed of decads, and in like manner the thousand is another unit, and so in due proportion the myriad is another by a multiplication, the one being made up to its value by thousands, the other by hundreds, by assigning all which to their underlying class we make signs of the quantity of the things numbered), accordingly, in order that we may be taught by Holy Scripture that nothing is unknown to God, it tells us that the multitude of the stars is numbered by Him, not that their numbering takes place as I have described, (for who is so simple as to think that God takes knowledge of things by odd and even, and that by putting units together He makes up the total of the collective quantity?) but, since in our own case the exact knowledge of quantity is obtained by number, in order, I say, that we might be taught in respect to God that all things are comprehended by the knowledge of His wisdom, and that nothing escapes His minute cognizance, on this account it represents God as numbering the stars, counselling us by these words to understand this, viz. that we must not imagine God to take note of things by the measure of human knowledge, but that all things, however incomprehensible and above human understanding, are embraced by the knowledge of the wisdom of God. For as the stars on account of their multitude escape numbering, as far as our human conception is concerned, Holy Scripture, teaching the whole from the part, in saying that they are numbered by God attests that not one of the things unknown to us escapes the knowledge of God. And therefore it says, Who tells the multitude of the stars, of course not meaning that He did not know their number beforehand; for how should He be ignorant of what He Himself created, seeing that the Ruler of the Universe could not be ignorant of that which is comprehended in His power; which includes the worlds in its embrace? Why, then, should He number what He knows? For to measure quantity by number is the part of those who want information. But He Who knew all things before they were created needs not number as His informant. But when David says that He numbers the stars, it is evident that the Scripture descends to such language in accordance with our understanding, to teach us emblematically that the things which we know not are accurately known to God. As, then, He is said to number, though needing no arithmetical process to arrive at the knowledge of things created, so also the Prophet tells us that He calls them all by their names, not meaning, I imagine, that He does so by any vocal utterance. For verily such language would result in a conception strangely unworthy of God, if it meant that these names in common use among ourselves were applied to the stars by God. For, should any one allow that these were so applied by God, it must follow that the names of the idol gods of Greece were applied by Him also to the stars, and we must regard as true all the tales from mythological history that are told about those starry names, as though God Himself sanctioned their utterance. Thus the distribution among the Greek idols of the seven planets contained in the heavens will exempt from blame those who have erred in respect to them, if men be persuaded that such an arrangement was God's. Thus the fables of Orion and the Scorpion will be believed, and the legends respecting the ship Argo, and the Swan, and the Eagle, and the Dog, and the mythical story of Ariadne's crown. Moreover it will pave the way for supposing God to be the inventor of the names in the zodiacal circle, devised after some fancied resemblance in the constellations, if Eunomius is right in supposing that David said that these names were given them by God.

Since it would be absurd to regard God as the inventor of such names—otherwise even the names of these idol gods would seem to have originated from God—we should not accept what has been said without investigation, but should understand its meaning by comparing it to those things that number teaches us. Now, since it confirms the accuracy of our knowledge when we call someone we know by their name, we are taught here that He Who encompasses the Universe in His knowledge not only comprehends the total sum of everything, but also has exact knowledge of each individual unit that makes up that total. Therefore Scripture says not only that He counts the number of the stars, but that He calls them all by their names, which means that His precise knowledge extends to the smallest of them, and that He knows each one specifically, just as a person knows someone familiar to them by name. If anyone claims that the names God gave to the stars are different ones, unknown to human language, he strays far from the truth. For if there were other names for stars, Holy Scripture would not have mentioned those commonly used among the Greeks—Isaiah saying, "Who makes the Pleiades, and Hesperus, and Arcturus, and the Chambers of the South," and Job mentioning Orion and Aseroth. From this it is clear that Holy Scripture uses words that are in common use for our instruction. Thus we hear in Job of Amalthea's horn, and in Isaiah of the Sirens—the former naming abundance according to Greek mythology, the latter representing the pleasure derived from hearing through the figure of the Sirens. So then, just as in these cases the inspired word has used names drawn from mythological stories for the benefit of the hearers, here too it freely uses the names given to the stars by human imagination, teaching us that all things whatsoever that are named among people have their origin from God—the things themselves, not their names. For it does not say "Who names," but "Who makes Pleiad, and Hesperus, and Arcturus." I think, then, it has been sufficiently demonstrated in what I have said that David supports our position, teaching us by this statement not that God gives the stars their names, but that He has exact knowledge of them, in the way that people have the most certain knowledge of those whom they can, through long familiarity, call by their names.

Since, then, it is monstrous to regard God as the inventor of such names, lest the names even of these idol gods should seem to have had their origin from God, it will be well not to receive what has been said without inquiry, but to get to the meaning in this case also after the analogy of those things of which number informs us. Well, since it attests the accuracy of our knowledge, when we call one familiar to us by his name, we are here taught that He Who embraces the Universe in His knowledge not only comprehends the total of the aggregate quantity, but has an exact knowledge of the units also that compose it. And therefore the Scripture says not only that He tells the number of the stars, but that He calls them all by their names, which means that His accurate knowledge extends to the minutest of them, and that He knows each particular respecting them, just as a man knows one who is familiar to him by name. And if any one say that the names given to the stars by God are different ones, unknown to human language, he wanders far away from the truth. For if there were other names of stars, Holy Scripture would not have made mention of those which are in common use among the Greeks, Esaias saying, Which makes the Pleiads, and Hesperus, and Arcturus, and the Chambers of the South, and Job making mention of Orion and Aseroth; so that from this it is clear that Holy Scripture employs for our instruction such words as are in common use. Thus we hear in Job of Amalthea's horn, and in Esaias of the Sirens, the former thus naming plenty after the conceit of the Greeks, the latter representing the pleasure derived from hearing, by the figure of the Sirens. As, then, in these cases the inspired word has made use of names drawn from mythological fables, with a view to the advantage of the hearers, so here it freely makes use of the appellations given to the stars by human fancy, teaching us that all things whatsoever that are named among men have their origin from God — the things, not their names. For it does not say Who names, but Who makes Pleiad, and Hesperus, and Arcturus. I think, then, it has been sufficiently shown in what I have said that David supports our opinion, in teaching us by this utterance, not that God gives the stars their names, but that He has an exact knowledge of them, after the fashion of men, who have the most certain knowledge of those whom they are able, through long familiarity, to call by their names.

And if we present the interpretation that most commentators give to these words of the Psalmist, Eunomius' interpretation of them will be shown to be even more foolish. For those who have most carefully examined the meaning of the inspired Scripture declare that not all the works of creation are worthy of being counted by God. For in the Gospel accounts of feeding the crowds in the wilderness, women and children are not considered worthy of being counted. And in the account of the Exodus of the children of Israel, only those are counted in the register who were old enough to bear arms against their enemies and to perform brave deeds. For not all names of things are suitable to be spoken by the Divine lips, but the counting is only for what is pure and heavenly, which, by the excellence of its condition remaining pure from all mixture with darkness, is called a star, and the naming is only for what, for the same reason, is worthy to be recorded in the Divine records. For concerning His adversaries He says, I will not take up their names into my lips.

And if we set forth the opinion of most commentators on these words of the Psalmist, that of Eunomius regarding them will be still more convicted of foolishness. For those who have most carefully searched out the sense of the inspired Scripture, declare that not all the works of creation are worthy of the Divine reckoning. For in the Gospel narratives of feeding the multitudes in the wilderness, women and children are not thought worthy of enumeration. And in the account of the Exodus of the children of Israel, those only are enumerated in the roll who were of age to bear arms against their enemies, and to do deeds of valour. For not all names of things are fit to be pronounced by the Divine lips, but the enumeration is only for that which is pure and heavenly, which, by the loftiness of its state remaining pure from all admixture with darkness, is called a star, and the naming is only for that which, for the same reason, is worthy to be registered in the Divine tablets. For of His adversaries He says, I will not take up their names into my lips.

But we may clearly learn from the prophecy of Isaiah what names the Lord gives to such stars, where it says, "I have called you by your name; you are Mine" (Isaiah 43:1). So if a person makes himself God's possession, his action becomes his name. But let the reader decide about this. However, Eunomius adds to his earlier statement that the beginnings of creation testify to the fact that names were given by God to the things He created. But I think it would be unnecessary to repeat what I have already set out sufficiently as the result of my research. He may put his own arbitrary interpretation on the word "Adam," which the Apostle tells us points prophetically to Christ. For no one can be so deluded, when Paul has revealed the hidden mysteries to us through the power of the Spirit, as to consider Eunomius a more trustworthy interpreter of divine things—a man who openly attacks the words of inspired testimony and who through his false interpretation of the word tries to prove that the various kinds of animals were not named by Adam. We should also pass over his insulting expressions, tasteless vulgarity, and foul and disgusting language, with its usual fluency going on about our Master as a sower of tares, about a deceptive show of grain, the blight of Valentinus, and his grain piled in our Master's mind. And we will cover in silence the rest of his offensive talk as we cover decaying corpses in the ground, so that the stench may not prove harmful to many. Rather, let us proceed to what remains for us to say. For once again he brings forward a statement of our Master to this effect: We call God indestructible and ungenerate, applying these words from different points of view. For when we look to the ages that are past, finding the life of God transcending all limitation, we call Him ungenerate. But when we turn our thoughts to the ages that are yet to come, Him who is infinite, unlimited, and without end, we call indestructible. As, then, that which has no end of life is indestructible, so that which has no beginning we call ungenerate, representing things this way by the faculty of conception.

But the names which the Lord gives to such stars we may plainly learn from the prophecy of Esaias, which says, I have called you by your name; you are Mine Isaiah 43:1. So that if a man makes himself God's possession, his act becomes his name. But be this as the reader pleases. Eunomius, however, adds to his previous statement that the beginnings of creation testify to the fact, that names were given by God to the things which He created; but I think that it would be superfluous to repeat what I have already sufficiently set forth as the result of my investigations; and he may put his own arbitrary interpretation on the word Adam, which, the Apostle tells us, points prophetically to Christ. For no one can be so infatuated, when Paul, by the power of the Spirit, has revealed to us the hidden mysteries, as to count Eunomius a more trustworthy interpreter of Divine things — a man who openly impugns the words of the inspired testimony, and who by his false interpretation of the word would fain prove that the various kinds of animals were not named by Adam. We shall do well, also, to pass over his insolent expressions, and tasteless vulgarity, and foul and disgusting tongue, with its accustomed fluency going on about our Master as a sower of tares, and about a deceptive show of grain, and the blight of Valentinus, and his grain piled in our Master's mind: and we will veil in silence the rest of his unsavoury talk as we veil putrefying corpses in the ground, that the stench may not prove injurious to many. Rather let us proceed to what remains for us to say. For once more he adduces a dictum of our Master, to this effect. We call God indestructible and ungenerate, applying these words from different points of view. For when we look to the ages that are past, finding the life of God transcending all limitation, we call Him ungenerate. But when we turn our thoughts to the ages that are yet to come, Him Who is infinite, illimitable, and without end, we call indestructible. As, then, that which has no end of life is indestructible, so that which has no beginning we call ungenerate, representing things so by the faculty of conception.

I will skip over the insults Eunomius has placed at the beginning of his discussion of these matters—things like "alteration of seed," "teacher of sowing," "illogical censure," and whatever other slurs he dares to utter with his foul tongue. Let us instead turn to the point he is trying to establish through his slanderous accusation. He promises to prove that we are saying God is not indestructible by His physis. But we only consider those things foreign to His physis that can be added to or taken away from it. However, in the case of things without which the subject cannot be conceived by the mind, how can anyone be accused of separating His physis from itself? If the indestructibility we attribute to God were something added on from outside and did not always belong to Him, or might cease to belong to Him, then his slanderous attack might be justified. But if it is always the same, and our argument is that God is always what He is, and that He receives nothing by way of increase or addition of properties but continues always in whatever is conceived and called good, why should we be slanderously accused of not attributing indestructibility to Him as part of His essential physis? But he pretends to base his accusation on Basil's words which I have already quoted, as though we granted indestructibility to God by reference to the ages. Now if this statement came from us ourselves, our defense might perhaps seem suspect, as if we now wanted to correct or justify any questionable expressions of ours. But since our statements are taken from the lips of an opponent, what stronger proof could we have of their truth than the testimony of our opponents themselves? How does the statement stand, then, which Eunomius seizes upon to prejudice us? When, he says, we turn our thoughts to the ages that are yet to come, we speak of the infinite, illimitable, and unending as indestructible. Does Eunomius consider such attribution the same as granting? Yet who is so unfamiliar with common usage that he does not know the proper meaning of these expressions? For a person grants something when he possesses what another does not have, while a person attributes something when he designates with a name what another already has. How is it, then, that our teacher of truth is not ashamed of his obviously slanderous accusation? But just as those who are deprived of sight through some disease behave inappropriately before the eyes of those who can see, supposing that what they themselves cannot see is also unobserved by those whose sight is unimpaired, such is the case with our sharp-sighted and quick-witted opponent, who assumes his hearers are afflicted with the same blindness to the truth as himself. And who is so foolish as not to compare the words he slanderously attacks with his accusation itself, and by reading them side by side to detect the malice of the writer? Our statement attributes indestructibility; he accuses it of granting indestructibility. What does this have to do with our statement? Every person has a right to be judged by his own deeds, not to be blamed for those of others; and in this present case, while he accuses us and directs his bitterness at us, in truth he is condemning no one but himself. For if it is wrong to grant indestructibility to God, and no one does this except himself, is not our slanderer his own accuser, attacking his own statements and not ours? And regarding the term indestructibility, we assert that just as the life that is endless is rightly called indestructible, so that which is without beginning is rightly called ungenerate. And yet Eunomius says we lend Him primacy over all created things simply by reference to the ages.

I will pass over, then, the abuse with which he has prefaced his discussion of these matters, as when he uses such terms as alteration of seed, and teacher of sowing, and illogical censure, and whatever other aspersions he ventures on with his foul tongue. Let us rather turn to the point which he tries to establish by his calumnious accusation. He promises to convict us of saying that God is not by His nature indestructible. But we hold only such things foreign to His nature as may be added to or subtracted from it. But, in the case of things without which the subject is incapable of being conceived by the mind, how can any one be open to the charge of separating His nature from itself? If, then, the indestructibility which we ascribe to God were adventitious, and did not always belong to Him, or might cease to belong to Him, he might be justified in his calumnious attack. But if it is always the same, and our contention is, that God is always what He is, and that He receives nothing by way of increase or addition of properties, but continues always in whatsoever is conceived and called good, why should we be slanderously accused of not ascribing indestructibility to Him as of His essential nature? But he pretends that he grounds his accusation on the words of Basil which I have already quoted, as though we bestowed indestructibility on God by reference to the ages. Now if our statement were put forward by ourselves, our defense might perhaps seem open to suspicion, as if we now wanted to amend or justify any questionable expressions of ours. But since our statements are taken from the lips of an adversary, what stronger demonstration could we have of their truth than the evidence of our opponents themselves? How is it, then, with the statement which Eunomius lays hold of with a view to our prejudice? When, he says, we turn our thoughts to the ages that are yet to be, we speak of the infinite, and illimitable, and unending, as indestructible. Does Eunomius count such ascription as identical with bestowing? Yet who is such a stranger to existing usage as to be ignorant of the proper meaning of these expressions? For that man bestows who possesses something which another has not, while that man ascribes who designates with a name what another has. How is it, then, that our instructor in truth is not ashamed of his plainly calumnious impeachment? But as those who, from some disease, are bereft of sight, are unseemly in their behaviour before the eyes of the seeing, supposing that what is not seen by themselves is a thing unobserved also by those whose sight is unimpaired, just such is the case of our sharp-sighted and quick-witted opponent, who supposes his hearers to be afflicted with the same blindness to the truth as himself. And who is so foolish as not to compare the words which he calumniously assails with his charge itself, and by reading them side by side to detect the malice of the writer? Our statement ascribes indestructibility; he charges it with bestowing indestructibility. What has this to do with our statement? Every man has a right to be judged by his own deeds, not to be blamed for those of others; and in this present case, while he accuses us, and points his bitterness at us, in truth he is condemning no one but himself. For if it is reprehensible to bestow indestructibility on God, and this is done by no one but himself, is not our slanderer his own accuser, assailing his own statements and not ours? And with regard to the term indestructibility, we assert that as the life which is endless is rightly called indestructible, so that which is without beginning is rightly called ungenerate. And yet Eunomius says that we lend Him the primacy over all created things simply by reference to the ages.

I will pass over in silence his blasphemy in reducing God the Only-begotten to the same level as all created things and, in short, allowing the Son of God no higher honor than theirs. Still, for the sake of my more intelligent listeners, I will here give an example of his senseless malice. He says that Basil grants God the primacy over all things by reference to the ages. What unintelligible nonsense this is! Man is made God's patron and gives to God a primacy that depends on the ages! What is this empty flourish of baseless expressions, when our teacher simply says that whatever in the Divine essence transcends the measurable distances of the ages in either direction is called by certain distinctive names, in the case of Him who, as the Apostle says, has neither beginning of days nor end of life, so that the distinction of the conception might be marked by distinction in the names. And yet on this account Eunomius has the audacity to write that to call that which is anterior to all beginning ungenerate, and again that which is circumscribed by no limit immortal and indestructible, is a bestowing or lending on our part, and other nonsense of the kind. Moreover, he says that we divide the ages into two parts, as if he had not read the words he quoted, or as if he were addressing those who had forgotten his own previous statements. For what does our teacher say? If we look at the time before the Creation, and if passing in thought through the ages we reflect on the infinitude of the Eternal Life, we signify the thought by the term ungenerate. And if we turn our thoughts to what follows and consider the being of God as extending beyond all ages, we interpret the thought by the word endless or indestructible. Well, how does such an account cut the ages in two, if by such available words and names we signify that eternity of God which is equally observable from every point of view, in all things the same, unbroken in continuity? For seeing that human life, moving from stage to stage, advances in its progress from a beginning to an end, and our life here is divided between that which is past and that which is expected, so that the one is the subject of hope, the other of memory, on this account, as in relation to ourselves we grasp a past and a future in this measurable extent, so also we apply the thought, though incorrectly, to the transcendent nature of God—not of course that God in His own existence leaves any interval behind or passes on afresh to something that lies before, but because our intellect can only conceive things according to our nature and measures the eternal by a past and a future, where neither the past blocks the mind's movement toward the limitless and infinite, nor the future tells us of any pause or limit of His endless life. If, then, it is in this way that we think and speak, why does he keep accusing us of dividing the ages? Unless, indeed, Eunomius would maintain that Holy Scripture does so too, signifying as it does by the same idea the infinity of the Divine existence—David, for example, making mention of the kingdom from everlasting, and Moses speaking of the kingdom of God as extending beyond all ages, so that we are taught by both that every duration conceivable is surrounded by the Divine nature, bounded on all sides by the infinity of Him who holds the universe in His embrace. For Moses, looking to the future, says that He reigns from generation to generation for evermore. And great David, turning his thought backward to the past, says, God is our King before the ages, and again, God, who was before the ages, shall hear us. But Eunomius, in his cleverness abandoning such guides as these, says that we talk of the life that is without beginning as one thing, and of that which is without end as quite another, and again of diversities of various ages, effecting by their own diversity a separation in our idea of God. But so that our controversy may not grow to a tedious length, we will add, without criticism or comment, the outcome of Eunomius' work on the subject, well fitted as it is by his effort displayed in the cause of error to make the truth yet more evident to the eyes of the discerning.

I pass in silence his blasphemy in reducing God the Only-begotten to a level with all created things, and, in a word, allowing to the Son of God no higher honour than theirs. Still, for the sake of my more intelligent hearers, I will here give an instance of his insensate malice. Basil, he says, lends God the primacy over all things by reference to the ages. What unintelligible nonsense is this! Man is made God's patron, and gives to God a primacy owing to the ages! What is this vain flourish of baseless expressions, seeing that our Master simply says that whatever in the Divine essence transcends the measurable distances of the ages in either direction is called by certain distinctive names, in the case of Him Who, as says the Apostle, has neither beginning of days nor end of life Hebrews 7:3, in order that the distinction of the conception might be marked by distinction in the names. And yet on this account Eunomius has the effrontery to write, that to call that which is anterior to all beginning ungenerate, and again that which is circumscribed by no limit, immortal and indestructible, is a bestowing or lending on our part, and other nonsense of the kind. Moreover, he says that we divide the ages into two parts, as if he had not read the words he quoted, or as if he were addressing those who had forgotten his own previous statements. For what says our Master? If we look at the time before the Creation, and if passing in thought through the ages we reflect on the infinitude of the Eternal Life, we signify the thought by the term ungenerate. And if we turn our thoughts to what follows, and consider the being of God as extending beyond all ages, we interpret the thought by the word endless or indestructible. Well, how does such an account sever the ages in two, if by such possible words and names we signify that eternity of God which is equally observable from every point of view, in all things the same, unbroken in continuity? For seeing that human life, moving from stage to stage, advances in its progress from a beginning to an end, and our life here is divided between that which is past and that which is expected, so that the one is the subject of hope, the other of memory; on this account, as, in relation to ourselves, we apprehend a past and a future in this measurable extent, so also we apply the thought, though incorrectly, to the transcendent nature of God; not of course that God in His own existence leaves any interval behind, or passes on afresh to something that lies before, but because our intellect can only conceive things according to our nature, and measures the eternal by a past and a future, where neither the past precludes the march of thought to the illimitable and infinite, nor the future tells us of any pause or limit of His endless life. If, then, it is thus that we think and speak, why does he keep taunting us with dividing the ages? Unless, indeed, Eunomius would maintain that Holy Scripture does so too, signifying as it does by the same idea the infinity of the Divine existence; David, for example, making mention of the kingdom from everlasting, and Moses, speaking of the kingdom of God as extending beyond all ages, so that we are taught by both that every duration conceivable is environed by the Divine nature, bounded on all sides by the infinity of Him Who holds the universe in His embrace. For Moses, looking to the future, says that He reigns from generation to generation for evermore. And great David, turning his thought backward to the past, says, God is our King before the ages, and again, God, Who was before the ages, shall hear us. But Eunomius, in his cleverness taking leave of such guides as these, says that we talk of the life that is without beginning as one, and of that which is without end as quite another, and again, of diversities of sundry ages, effecting by their own diversity a separation in our idea of God. But that our controversy may not grow to a tedious length, we will add, without criticism or comment, the outcome of Eunomius' labours on the subject, well fitted as they are by his industry displayed in the cause of error to render the truth yet more evident to the eyes of the discerning.

As he continues his argument, he asks us what we mean by the ages. Yet we could more reasonably ask him the same question. After all, he's the one who claims to know the ousia of God, defining on his own authority what is beyond human approach and comprehension. So let him give us a detailed explanation of the nature of the ages, since he boasts about his knowledge of transcendent matters. And let him stop aggressively threatening us poor ignorant people with the double-edged danger of the dilemma in our answer, telling us that whether we hold this view or that view about the ages, the result must be absurd either way. For if, he says, you claim the ages are eternal, you will be Greeks and Valentinians and uneducated. And if you say they are generated, you will no longer be able to attribute ungeneracy to God. What a terribly unanswerable attack! If, Eunomius, something is held to be generated, we no longer hold the doctrine of divine ungeneracy! And please tell us what has happened to your subtle distinctions between generacy and ungeneracy, by which you tried to establish that the ousia of the Son is dissimilar from that of the Father? For it seems from what we're now being taught that the Father is not dissimilar in ousia when considered in relation to generacy, but that in fact, if we maintain His ungeneracy, we reduce Him to non-existence—since if we speak of the ages as generated, we are forced to abandon the Ungenerate. But let's examine the force of the argument by which he would compel us to accept this absurdity. When, he says, those things by comparison with which God is without beginning don't exist, He who is compared with them must also not exist. What a strong and overpowering grip this is! How tightly this wrestler has us by the waist in his inescapable hold! He says that God's ungeneracy is added to Him through comparison with the ages. By whom is it added? Who says that ungeneracy is added as something acquired through comparison with something else to Him who has no beginning? Neither such a word nor such a meaning will be found in any of our writings. Our words indeed justify themselves and contain nothing like what is alleged against us. And as for the meaning of what is said, who can be a more reliable interpreter than the one who said it? Don't we have the better right to say what we mean when we speak of God's life as extending beyond the ages? And what we say is what we have already said in our previous writings. But, he says, comparison with the ages being impossible, it is impossible that any addition should come to God from it—meaning of course that ungeneracy is an addition. Let him tell us by whom such an addition has been made. If by himself, he simply becomes ridiculous in charging us with his own foolishness. If by us, let him quote our words, and then we will admit the force of his accusation.

For, proceeding with his discourse, he asks us what we mean by the ages. And yet we ourselves might more reasonably put such questions to him. For it is he who professes to know the essence of God, defining on his own authority what is unapproachable and incomprehensible by man. Let him, then, give us a scientific lecture on the nature of the ages, boasting as he does of his familiarity with transcendental things, and let him not so fiercely brandish over us, poor ignorant individuals, the double danger of the dilemma involved in our reply, telling us that, whether we hold this or that view of the ages, the result must be in either case an absurdity. For if (says he) you say that they are eternal, you will be Greeks, and Valentinians, and uninstructed: and if you say that they are generate, you will no longer be able to ascribe ungeneracy to God. What a terribly unanswerable attack! If, O Eunomius, something is held to be generate, we no longer hold the doctrine of the Divine ungeneracy! And pray what has become of your subtle distinctions between generacy and ungeneracy, by which you sought to establish the dissimilarity of the essence of the Son from that of the Father? For it seems from what we are now being taught that the Father is not dissimilar in essence when contemplated in respect of generacy, but that, in fact, if we hold His ungeneracy, we reduce Him to non- existence; since if we speak of the ages as generate, we are driven to relinquish the Ungenerate. But let us examine the force of the argument, by which he would compel us to allow this absurdity. When, says he, those things by comparison with which God is without beginning are non-existent, He Who is compared with them must be non-existent also. What a sturdy and overpowering grip is this! How tightly has this wrestler got us by the waist in his inextricable grasp! He says that God's ungeneracy is added to Him through comparison with the ages. By whom is it so added? Who is there that says that to Him Who has no beginning ungeneracy is added as an acquisition through comparison with something else? Neither such a word nor such a sense will be found in any writings of ours. Our words indeed carry their own justification, and contain nothing like what is alleged against us; and of the meaning of what is said, who can be a more trustworthy interpreter than he who said it? Have not we, then, the better title to say what we mean when we speak of the life of God as extending beyond the ages? And what we say is what we have said already in our previous writings. But, says he, comparison with the ages being impossible, it is impossible that any addition should accrue from it to God, meaning of course that ungeneracy is an addition. Let him tell us by whom such an addition has been made. If by himself, he becomes simply ridiculous in laying his own folly to our charge: if by us, let him quote our words, and then we will admit the force of his accusation.

But I think we must pass over this and all that follows. For it is just the trivial play of children who amuse themselves by starting to build houses in sand. Having composed part of a paragraph without bringing it to a conclusion, he shows that the same life is without beginning and without end, thus in his eagerness working out our own conclusion. For this is exactly what we say: that the Divine life is one and continuous in itself, infinite and eternal, in no way bounded by any limit to its infinity. So far our opponent devotes his labors and efforts to the truth as we represent it, showing that the same life is not limited on any side, whether we look at that part of it which was before the ages or at that which succeeds them. But in his next remarks he returns to his old confusion. For after saying that the same life is without beginning and without end, he leaves the subject of life and, grouping all the ideas we have about the Divine life under one heading, he unifies everything. If, he says, the life is without beginning and without end, ungenerate and indestructible, then indestructibility and ungeneracy will be the same thing, as will also being without beginning and without end. And to this he adds supporting arguments. It is not possible, he says, for the life to be one unless indestructibility and ungeneracy are identical terms. An admirable addition on our friend's part. It would seem, then, that we may use the same language regarding righteousness, wisdom, power, goodness, and all such attributes of God. Let no word have a meaning peculiar to itself, but let one signification underlie every word in a list, and one form of description serve for the definition of all. If you are asked to define the word judge, answer with the interpretation of ungeneracy. If asked to define justice, be ready with the incorporeal as your answer. If asked to define incorruptibility, say that it has the same meaning as mercy or judgment. Thus let all God's attributes be interchangeable terms, there being no special meaning to distinguish one from another. But if Eunomius prescribes this, why do the Scriptures pointlessly assign various names to the Divine nature, calling God a Judge, righteous, powerful, long-suffering, true, merciful and so on? For if none of these titles is to be understood in any special or peculiar sense, but, owing to this confusion in their meaning, they are all mixed up together, it would be useless to employ so many words for the same thing, there being no difference of meaning to distinguish them from one another. But who is so insane as not to know that, while the Divine nature, whatever it is in its ousia, is simple, uniform, and incomposite, and cannot be viewed in any form of complex composition, the human mind, groveling on earth and buried in this earthly life, in its inability to behold clearly the object of its search, feels after the unutterable Being in various and many-sided ways, and never pursues the mystery in the light of one idea alone. Our grasp of Him would indeed be easy if there were one single assigned path before us to the knowledge of God. But as it is, from the skill apparent in the Universe we get the idea of skill in the Ruler of that Universe; from the large scale of the wonders worked we get the impression of His Power; and from our belief that this Universe depends on Him we get an indication that there is no cause whatever of His existence. Again, when we see the execrable character of evil, we grasp His own unalterable purity regarding this. When we consider death's dissolution to be the worst of evils, we give the name of Immortal and Indissoluble at once to Him Who is removed from every conception of that kind. Not that we split up the subject of such attributes along with them, but believing that this thing we think of, whatever it is in substance, is One, we still conceive that it has something in common with all these ideas. For these terms are not set against each other as opposites, as if, when one exists there, the other could not coexist in the same subject (as, for instance, it is impossible that life and death should be thought of in the same subject). But the force of each of the terms used in connection with the Divine Being is such that, even though it has a peculiar significance of its own, it implies no opposition to the term associated with it. What opposition, for instance, is there between incorporeal and just, even though the words do not coincide in meaning? And what hostility is there between goodness and invisibility? So too, the eternity of the Divine Life, though represented under the double name and idea of the unending and the unbeginning, is not cut in two by this difference of name. Nor is the one name the same in meaning as the other; the one points to the absence of beginning, the other to the absence of end, and yet there is no division produced in the subject by this difference in the actual terms applied to it.

But I think we must pass over this and all that follows. For it is the mere trifling of children who amuse themselves with beginning to build houses in sand. For having composed a portion of a paragraph, and not yet brought it to a conclusion, he shows that the same life is without beginning and without end, thus in his eagerness working out our own conclusion. For this is just what we say; that the Divine life is one and continuous in itself, infinite and eternal, in no wise bounded by any limit to its infinity. Thus far our opponent devotes his labours and exertions to the truth as we represent it, showing that the same life is on no side limited, whether we look at that part of it which was before the ages, or at that which succeeds them. But in his next remarks he returns to his old confusion. For after saying that the same life is without beginning and without end, leaving the subject of life, and ranging all the ideas we entertain about the Divine life under one head, he unifies everything. If, says he, the life is without beginning and without end, ungenerate and indestructible, then indestructibility and ungeneracy will be the same thing, as will also the being without beginning and without end. And to this he adds the aid of arguments. It is not possible, he says, for the life to be one, unless indestructibility and ungeneracy are identical terms. An admirable addition on the part of our friend. It would seem, then, that we may hold the same language in regard to righteousness, wisdom, power, goodness, and all such attributes of God. Let, then, no word have a meaning peculiar to itself, but let one signification underlie every word in a list, and one form of description serve for the definition of all. If you are asked to define the word judge, answer with the interpretation of ungeneracy; if to define justice, be ready with the incorporeal as your answer. If asked to define incorruptibility, say that it has the same meaning as mercy or judgment. Thus let all God's attributes be convertible terms, there being no special signification to distinguish one from another. But if Eunomius thus prescribes, why do the Scriptures vainly assign various names to the Divine nature, calling God a Judge, righteous, powerful, long-suffering, true, merciful and so on? For if none of these titles is to be understood in any special or peculiar sense, but, owing to this confusion in their meaning, they are all mixed up together, it would be useless to employ so many words for the same thing, there being no difference of meaning to distinguish them from one another. But who is so much out of his wits as not to know that, while the Divine nature, whatever it is in its essence, is simple, uniform, and incomposite, and that it cannot be viewed under any form of complex formation, the human mind, grovelling on earth, and buried in this life on earth, in its inability to behold clearly the object of its search, feels after the unutterable Being in various and many-sided ways, and never chases the mystery in the light of one idea alone. Our grasping of Him would indeed be easy, if there lay before us one single assigned path to the knowledge of God: but as it is, from the skill apparent in the Universe, we get the idea of skill in the Ruler of that Universe, from the large scale of the wonders worked we get the impression of His Power; and from our belief that this Universe depends on Him, we get an indication that there is no cause whatever of His existence; and again, when we see the execrable character of evil, we grasp His own unalterable pureness as regards this: when we consider death's dissolution to be the worst of ills, we give the name of Immortal and Indissoluble at once to Him Who is removed from every conception of that kind: not that we split up the subject of such attributes along with them, but believing that this thing we think of, whatever it be in substance, is One, we still conceive that it has something in common with all these ideas. For these terms are not set against each other in the way of opposites, as if, the one existing there, the other could not co-exist in the same subject (as, for instance, it is impossible that life and death should be thought of in the same subject); but the force of each of the terms used in connection with the Divine Being is such that, even though it has a peculiar significance of its own, it implies no opposition to the term associated with it. What opposition, for instance, is there between incorporeal and just, even though the words do not coincide in meaning: and what hostility is there between goodness and invisibility? So, too, the eternity of the Divine Life, though represented under the double name and idea of the unending and the unbeginning, is not cut in two by this difference of name; nor yet is the one name the same in meaning as the other; the one points to the absence of beginning, the other to the absence of end, and yet there is no division produced in the subject by this difference in the actual terms applied to it.

Such is our position. Our adversary's view, regarding the precise meaning of this term, cannot be supported by any sound reasoning. He only randomly spits out these strangely meaningless and bombastic expressions in the framework of his sentences and periods. But the conclusion of everything he says is this: that there is no difference in meaning between the most varied names. But we must certainly, it seems to me, quote this passage of his word for word, lest we be thought to be falsely accusing him of something that does not belong to him. True expressions, he says, derive their precision from the subject realities which they indicate; different expressions are applied to different realities, the same to the same. And so one or the other of these two things must necessarily be held: either that the reality indicated is different (if the expressions are), or else that the indicating expressions are not different. With these and many other similar words, he proceeds to accomplish the goal he has before him, excluding from the expression certain relations and affinities, such as species, proportion, part, time, and manner—in order that by the removal of all these, Ungeneracy may become indicative of the ousia of God. His process of proof is as follows (I will express his idea in my own words). The life, he says, is not a different thing from the ousia; no addition may be thought of in connection with a simple being, by dividing our conception of him into a communicating and communicated side; but whatever the life may be, that very thing, he insists, is the ousia. Here his philosophy is excellent; no thinking person would disagree with this. But how does he arrive at his intended conclusion, when he says, when we mean the unbeginning, we mean the life, and truth compels us by this last to mean the ousia? The ungenerate, then, according to him is expressive of the very ousia of God. We, on the other hand, while we agree that the life of God was not given by another, which is the meaning of unbeginning, think that the belief that the idea expressed by the words "not generated" is the ousia of God is a madman's only. Who indeed can be so out of his mind as to declare the absence of any generation to be the definition of that ousia (for just as generation is involved in the generate, so is the absence of generation in the ungenerate)? Ungeneracy indicates that which is not in the Father; so how shall we allow the indication of that which is absent to be His ousia? Helping himself to that which neither we nor any logical conclusion from the premises allows him, he lays it down that God's Ungeneracy is expressive of God's life. But to make his delusion on this subject quite plain, let us look at it in the following way; I mean, let us examine whether, by employing the same method by which he, in the case of the Father, has brought the definition of the ousia to ungeneracy, we may not equally bring the ousia of the Son to ungeneracy.

Such is our position; our adversary's, with regard to the precise meaning of this term, is such as can derive no help from any reasonings; he only spits forth at random about it these strangely unmeaning and bombastic expressions, in the framework of his sentences and periods. But the upshot of all he says is this; that there is no difference in the meaning of the most varied names. But we must most certainly, as it seems to me, quote this passage of his word for word, lest we be thought to be calumniously charging him with something that does not belong to him. True expressions, he says, derive their precision from the subject realities which they indicate; different expressions are applied to different realities, the same to the same: and so one or other of these two things must of necessity be held: either that the reality indicated is different (if the expressions are), or else that the indicating expressions are not different. With these and many other such-like words, he proceeds to effect the object he has before him, excluding from the expression certain relations and affinities, such as species, proportion, part, time, manner: in order that by the withdrawal of all these Ungeneracy may become indicative of the substance of God. His process of proof is in the following manner (I will express his idea in my own words). The life, he says, is not a different thing from the substance; no addition may be thought of in connection with a simple being, by dividing our conception of him into a communicating and communicated side; but whatever the life may be, that very thing, he insists, is the substance. Here his philosophy is excellent; no thinking person would gainsay this. But how does he arrive at his contemplated conclusion, when he says, when we mean the unbeginning, we mean the life, and truth compels us by this last to mean the substance? The ungenerate, then, according to him is expressive of the very substance of God. We, on the other hand, while we agree that the life of God was not given by another, which is the meaning of unbeginning, think that the belief that the idea expressed by the words not generated is the substance of God is a madman's only. Who indeed can be so beside himself as to declare the absence of any generation to be the definition of that substance (for as generation is involved in the generate, so is the absence of generation in the ungenerate)? Ungeneracy indicates that which is not in the Father; so how shall we allow the indication of that which is absent to be His substance? Helping himself to that which neither we nor any logical conclusion from the premises allows him, he lays it down that God's Ungeneracy is expressive of God's life. But to make quite plain his delusion upon this subject, let us look at it in the following way; I mean, let us examine whether, by employing the same method by which he, in the case of the Father, has brought the definition of the substance to ungeneracy, we may not equally bring the substance of the Son to ungeneracy.

He says: The Life that is the same and completely single must have one and the same outward expression for it, even though it may seem to vary in mere names, manner, and order. For true expressions get their precision from the underlying realities they indicate. Different expressions are applied to different realities, the same to the same. So one of these two things must necessarily be true: either the reality indicated is quite different (if the expressions are different), or else the indicating expressions are not different. And in this case there is no other underlying reality besides the life of the Son for one either to base an idea on or to apply a different expression to. Is there, I may ask, anything wrong with these quoted words that would prevent them from being rightly spoken or written about the Only-begotten? Is not the Son Himself also a Life that is completely single? Is there not for Him also one and the same fitting expression, though He may seem to vary in mere names, manner, and order? Must not one of these two things also be held fixed for Him: either that the reality indicated is quite different, or else that the indicating expressions are not different, since there is no other underlying reality besides His life for one either to base an idea on or to apply a different expression to? We are not mixing up anything here with what Eunomius has said about the Father. We have simply moved from the same accepted premise to the same conclusion as he did, merely inserting the Son's name instead. If, then, the Son too is a single life, unmixed, removed from every sort of compositeness or complexity, and there is no underlying reality besides this life of the Son (for how can the mixture of anything foreign be suspected in that which is simple? What we must think of along with something else is no longer simple), and if the Father's ousia is also a single life, and of this single life, by virtue of its very life and its very singleness, there are no differences, no increase or decrease in quantity or quality creating any variation, then it must be that things that coincide in concept this way should be called by the same name as well. If, that is, the thing detected in both the Father and the Son—I mean the singleness of life—is one, and the very idea of singleness excludes any variation, as we have said, then it must be that the name fitting the one should be attached to the other as well. For just as that which reasons, is mortal, and is capable of thought and knowledge is called man equally in the case of Adam and of Abel, and this name of the nature is not changed either by the fact that Abel came into existence by generation or by the fact that Adam did so without generation, so if the simplicity and incompositeness of the Father's life has ungeneracy for its name, then in the same way for the Son's life the same idea will necessarily have to be attached to the same utterance, if, as Eunomius says, one of these two things must necessarily be true: either that the reality indicated is quite different, or else that the indicating expressions are not different.

He says, The Life that is the same, and thoroughly single, must have one and the same outward expression for it, even though in mere names, and manner, and order it may seem to vary. For true expressions derive their precision from the subject realities which they indicate; different expressions are applied to different realities, the same to the same; and so one or other of these two things must of necessity be held; either that the reality indicated is quite different (if the expressions are), or else that the indicating expressions are not different; and there is in this case no other subject reality besides the life of the Son, for one either to rest an idea upon, or to cast a different expression upon. Is there, I may ask, any unfitness in the words quoted, which would prevent them being rightly spoken or written about the Only-begotten? Is not the Son Himself also a Life thoroughly single? Is there not for Him also one and the same befitting expression, though in mere names, and manner, and order He may seem to vary? Must not, for Him also, one or other of these two things be held fixed, either that the reality indicated is quite different, or else that the indicating expressions are not different, there being no other subject reality, besides his life, for one either to rest an idea upon, or to cast a different expression upon? We mix up nothing here with what Eunomius has said about the Father; we have only passed from the same accepted premise to the same conclusion as he did, merely inserting the Son's name instead. If, then, the Son too is a single life, unadulterated, removed from every sort of compositeness or complication, and there is no subject reality besides this life of the Son (for how in that which is simple can the mixture of anything foreign be suspected? What we have to think of along with something else is no longer simple), and if the Father's substance also is a single life, and of this single life, by virtue of its very life and its very singleness, there are no differences, no increase or decrease in quantity or quality in it creating any variation, it needs must be that things thus coinciding in idea should be called by the same appellation also. If, that is, the thing that is detected both in the Father and the Son, I mean the singleness of life, is one, the very idea of singleness excluding, as we have said, any variation, it needs must be that the name befitting the one should be attached to the other also. For as that which reasons, and is mortal, and is capable of thought and knowledge, is called man equally in the case of Adam and of Abel, and this name of the nature is not altered either by the fact that Abel passed into existence by generation, or by the fact that Adam did so without generation, so, if the simplicity and incompositeness of the Father's life has ungeneracy for its name, in like manner for the Son's life the same idea will necessarily have to be attached to the same utterance, if, as Eunomius says, one or other of these two things must of necessity be held; either that the reality indicated is quite different, or else that the indicating expressions are not different.

But why do we waste time on these foolish arguments when we should instead put Eunomius' book directly into the hands of serious students? That way, apart from any detailed examination, we could immediately prove to discerning readers not only the blasphemy of his opinion but also the weakness of his writing style. In various ways, not following our understanding of it but pursuing his own imagination, he misinterprets the word "Conception." Just as in a night battle no one can distinguish friend from foe, he does not realize that he is stabbing his own doctrine with the very weapons he thinks he is using against us. For the point where he thinks he most differs from the orthodox church is this: he attempts to prove that God became Father at some later time, and that the title of Fatherhood came later than all the other names that belong to Him. He claims God was called Father from the moment He purposed in Himself to become, and did become, Father. Well then, since in this treatise he is trying to prove that all the names applied to the Divine Nature coincide with each other and that there is no difference whatever between them, and since one of these applied names is Father (for just as God is indestructible and eternal, so also He is Father), we must either accept his opinion about this term as well, which would contradict his earlier position, since the idea of Fatherhood would then be involved in any of these other terms (for it is clear that if the meaning of "indestructible" and "Father" is exactly the same, He will be believed to be, just as He is always indestructible, likewise always Father, there being one single meaning, he says, in all these names); or else, if he fears thus acknowledging the eternal Fatherhood of God, he must necessarily abandon his whole argument and admit that each of these names has a meaning unique to itself. And so all this nonsense of his about the Divine names bursts like a bubble and vanishes like smoke.

But why do we linger over these follies, when we ought rather to put Eunomius' book itself into the hands of the studious, and so, apart from any examination of it, to prove at once to the discerning, not only the blasphemy of his opinion, but also the nervelessness of his style? While in various ways, not going upon our apprehension of it, but following his own fancy, he misinterprets the word Conception, just as in a night-battle nobody can distinguish friend and foe, he does not understand that he is stabbing his own doctrine with the very weapons he thinks he is turning upon us. For the point in which he thinks he is most removed from the church of the orthodox is this; that he attempts to prove that God became Father at some later time, and that the appellation of Fatherhood is later than all those other names which attach to Him; for that He was called Father from that moment in which He purposed in Himself to become, and did become, Father. Well, then, since in this treatise he is for proving that all the names applied to the Divine Nature coincide with each other, and that there is no difference whatever between them, and since one among these applied names is Father (for as God is indestructible and eternal, so also He is Father), we must either sanction, in the case of this term also, the opinion he holds about the rest, and so contravene his former position, seeing that the idea of Fatherhood is found to be involved in any of these other terms (for it is plain that if the meaning of indestructible and Father is exactly the same, He will be believed to be, just as He is always indestructible, so likewise always Father, there being one single signification, he says, in all these names): or else, if he fears thus to testify to the eternal Fatherhood of God, he must perforce abandon his whole argument, and own that each of these names has a meaning peculiar to itself; and thus all this nonsense of his about the Divine names bursts like a bubble, and vanishes like smoke.

But if he should still insist in response to this opposition of divine names that only the term Father and the term Creator are applied to God to express production, both words being so applied because of an operation (as he says), then he will cut short our long discussion of this subject by conceding what would have required a laborious argument on our part to prove. For if the word Father and the word Creator have the same meaning (since both arise from an operation), one of the things signified is exactly equivalent to the other, because if the signification is the same, the subjects cannot be different. If, then, He is called both Father and Creator because of an operation, it is quite permissible to interchange the names and turn one into the other and say that God is Creator of the Son and Father of a stone, seeing that the term Father would be devoid of any meaning of essential relation. Well, the monstrous conclusion that is thereby proved cannot remain doubtful to those who think about it. For just as it is absurd to consider a stone, or anything else that exists by creation, Divine, it must be agreed that there is no Divinity to be recognized in the Only-begotten either, when that one identical meaning of an operation, by which God is called both Father and Creator, assigns both these terms to Him, according to Eunomius. But let us return to the question before us. He attacks our assertion that our knowledge of God is formed by contributions of terms applied to different ideas, and says that we thereby destroy the proof of His simplicity, since He must partake of the elements signified by each term, and only by virtue of a share in them can completely fill out His ousia. Here I write in my own language, trimming down his wearisome wordiness; and to his foolish and weak redundancy no sensible person, I think, would make any reply, except regarding his charge that we are senseless. Now if anything of that description had been said by us, we ought of course to retract it if it was foolishly worded, or, if there was any doubt about its meaning, to put an irreproachable interpretation on it. But we have not said anything of the kind, any more than the consequences of our words lead the mind to any such necessity. Why, then, dwell on that to which everyone assents, and weary the reader by prolonging the argument? Who is really so lacking in reflection as to imagine, when he hears that our orthodox conceptions of the Deity are gathered from various ways of thinking about Him, that the Deity is composed of these various elements, or completes His actual fullness by participating in anything at all? A man, say, has made discoveries in geometry, and this same man, let us suppose, has also made discoveries in astronomy, and in medicine as well, and grammar, and agriculture, and sciences of that kind. Will it follow, because there are these various names of sciences connected with one single soul, that that single soul is to be considered a composite soul? Yet there is a very great difference in meaning between medicine and astronomy; and grammar has nothing in common with geometry, or seamanship with agriculture. Nevertheless it is entirely possible for the idea of each of these sciences to be associated with one soul, without that soul thereby becoming composite, or, on the other hand, without all those terms for sciences blending into one meaning. If, then, the human mind, with all such terms applied to it, is not damaged regarding its simplicity, how can anyone imagine that the Deity, when He is called wise, and just, and good, and eternal, and all the other divine names, must—unless all these names are made to mean one thing—become composed of many parts, or take a share of all these to make up the perfection of His physis?

But if he should still answer with regard to this opposition (of the Divine names), that it is only the term Father, and the term Creator, that are applied to God as expressing production, both words being so applied, as he says, because of an operation, then he will cut short our long discussion of this subject, by thus conceding what it would have required a laborious argument on our part to prove. For if the word Father and the word Creator have the same meaning (for both arise from an operation), one of the things signified is exactly equivalent to the other, since if the signification is the same, the subjects cannot be different. If, then, He is called both Father and Creator because of an operation, it is quite allowable to interchange the names, and to turn one into the other and say that God is Creator of the Son, and Father of a stone, seeing that the term Father is to be devoid of any meaning of essential relation. Well, the monstrous conclusion that is hereby proved cannot remain doubtful to those who reflect. For as it is absurd to deem a stone, or anything else that exists by creation, Divine, it must be agreed that there is no Divinity to be recognized in the Only-begotten either, when that one identical meaning of an operation, by which God is called both Father and Creator, assigns, according to Eunomius, both these terms to Him. But let us hold to the question before us. He abuses our assertion that our knowledge of God is formed by contributions of terms applied to different ideas, and says that the proof of His simplicity is destroyed by us so, since He must partake of the elements signified by each term, and only by virtue of a share in them can completely fill out His essence. Here I write in my own language, curtailing his wearisome prolixity; and in answer to his foolish and nerveless redundancy no sensible person, I think, would make any reply, except as regards his charging us with senselessness. Now if anything of that description had been said by us, we ought of course to retract it if it was foolishly worded, or, if there was any doubt as to its meaning, to put an irreproachable interpretation upon it. But we have not said anything of the kind, any more than the consequences of our words lead the mind to any such necessity. Why, then, linger on that to which all assent, and weary the reader by prolonging the argument? Who is really so devoid of reflection as to imagine, when he hears that our orthodox conceptions of the Deity are gathered from various ways of thinking of Him, that the Deity is composed of these various elements, or completes His actual fullness by participating in anything at all? A man, say, has made discoveries in geometry, and this same man, let us suppose, has made discoveries also in astronomy, and in medicine as well, and grammar, and agriculture, and sciences of that kind. Will it follow, because there are these various names of sciences viewed in connection with one single soul, that that single soul is to be considered a composite soul? Yet there is a very great difference in meaning between medicine and astronomy; and grammar means nothing in common with geometry, or seamanship with agriculture. Nevertheless it is within the bounds of possibility that the idea of each of these sciences should be associated with one soul, without that soul thereby becoming composite, or, on the other hand, without all those terms for sciences blending into one meaning. If, then, the human mind, with all such terms applied to it, is not injured as regards its simplicity, how can any one imagine that the Deity, when He is called wise, and just, and good, and eternal, and all the other Divine names, must, unless all these names are made to mean one thing, become of many parts, or take a share of all these to make up the perfection of His nature?

But let us examine a still more aggressive charge he makes against us. It is this: If one must say something even harsher, he does not even keep the Divine substance pure and unmixed from inferior and contradictory elements. This is the charge, but what is the proof of it? Observe the forceful rhetorical attack! If He is imperishable only because His Life is unending, and ungenerate only because it is unbeginning, then in whatever respect He is not imperishable He is perishable, and in whatever respect He is not ungenerate He is generated. Then returning to the charge, he repeats: He will then be, as unbeginning, both ungenerate and perishable at the same time, and, as unending, both imperishable and generated at the same time. Such is his harsher statement, which, according to his threat, he has launched against us to prove that we say the Divine ousia is mixed with contradictory and even inferior elements. However, I think it is clear to all who preserve within themselves the uncorrupted power of judging the truth that our Master has given this slanderer no basis at all in what he has said, but that Eunomius has twisted it as he pleased and then, playing at arguing, has drawn out this childish sophistry. But to make it even clearer to all my readers, I will repeat that statement of the Master word for word and then set Eunomius' words alongside it. We call the universal Deity (he says) imperishable and ungenerate, using these words with different applications of thought. For when we focus our view on the ages behind us, we find the life of the Deity transcending every limit, and so we name Him ungenerate. But when we turn our thoughts to the ages to come, we call what is infinite in Him, the boundless, the absence of any end to His living, imperishability. So, just as this endlessness is called imperishable, so too this beginninglessness is called ungenerate, and we arrive at these names by conception. Such are the Master's words, and through them he teaches us this: that the Divine Life is essentially single and continuous with itself, starting from no beginning, circumscribed by no end, and that the intuitions we possess regarding this Life can be made clear through words. That is, we express the never having come from any cause by the term unbeginning or ungenerate, and we express the not being circumscribed by any limit and not being destroyed by any death by the term imperishable or unending. And he defines that this absence of cause makes it right for us to speak of the Divine life as existing ungenerately, and this being without end we are to denote as imperishable, since anything that has ceased to exist is necessarily in a state of annihilation, and when we hear of anything annihilated, we immediately think of the destruction of its ousia. He says, then, that One who never ceases to exist and is completely foreign to all destruction and dissolution is to be called imperishable.

But let us examine a still more vehement charge of his against us; it is this: If one must proceed to say something harsher still, he does not even keep the Divine substance pure and unadulterated from inferior and contradictory elements. This is the charge, but the proof of it is — what? Observe the strong professional attack! If He is imperishable only by reason of the unending in His Life, and ungenerate only by reason of the unbeginning, then wherein He is not imperishable He is perishable, and wherein He is not ungenerate He is generated. Then returning to the charge, he repeats, He will then be, as unbeginning, at once ungenerate and perishable, and, as unending, at once imperishable and generated. Such is his harsher statement, which, according to his threat, he has discharged against us, to prove that we say that the Divine substance is mingled with contradictory and even inferior elements. However, I think it is plain to all who keep unimpaired within themselves the power of judging the truth, that our Master has given no handle at all, in what he has said, to this calumniator, but that the latter has garbled it at will, and then, playing at arguing, has drawn out this childish sophistry. But that it may be plainer still to all my readers, I will repeat that statement of the Master word for word, and then confront Eunomius' words with it. We call the Universal Deity (he says) imperishable and ungenerate, using these words with different applications of thought; for when we concentrate our view upon the ages behind us, we find the life of the Deity transcending every limit, and so name Him 'ungenerate'; but when we turn our thoughts upon the ages to come, we call the infinite in Him, the boundless, the absence of all end to His living, 'imperishability.' As, then, this endlessness is called imperishable, so too this beginninglessness is called ungenerate; and we arrive at these names by Conception. Such are the Master's words, and by them he teaches us this: that the Divine Life is essentially single and continuous with Itself, starting from no beginning, circumscribed by no end; and that the intuitions which we possess regarding this Life it is possible to make clear by words. That is, we express the never having come from any cause by the term unbeginning or ungenerate; and we express the not being circumscribed by any limit, and not being destroyed by any death, by the term imperishable, or unending; and this absence of cause, he defines, makes it right for us to speak of the Divine life as existing ungenerately; and this being without end we are to denote as imperishable, since anything that has ceased to exist is necessarily in a state of annihilation, and when we hear of anything annihilated, we at once think of the destruction of its substance. He says then, that One Who never ceases to exist, and is a stranger to all destruction and dissolution, is to be called imperishable.

What, then, does Eunomius say to this? If He is imperishable only by reason of the unending in His Life, and ungenerate only by reason of the unbeginning, then wherever He is not imperishable He is perishable, and wherever He is not ungenerate He is generated. Who granted you this, Eunomius, that imperishability is not connected with the whole life of God? Who ever divided that Life into two parts and then gave specific names to each half of the Life, so that the division to which one name applied could not be said to fit the other? This is the result of your dialectical cleverness: to say that the Life which has no beginning is perishable, and that what is imperishable cannot be connected with what is unbeginning! It is just as if, when someone had said that man was rational, as well as capable of speculation and knowledge, attaching each phrase to the subject according to a different application and idea, someone else were to mock him and continue in the same vein, saying: If man is capable of speculation and knowledge, he cannot, in this respect, be rational, but wherever he is capable of such knowledge, he is this and this only, and his nature does not allow him to be the other. And conversely, if rational were made the definition of man, he would deny in this case that man is capable of speculation and knowledge, for wherever he is rational, he is proven devoid of mind. But if the ridiculousness and absurdity in this case is plain to anyone, neither in that former case is it at all uncertain. When you have read the passage from the Master, you will find that his childish sophistry will vanish like a shadow. In our case of the definition of man, the capability of knowledge is not prevented by the possession of reason, nor the reason by the capability of knowledge. No more is the eternity of the Divine Life deprived of imperishability if it be unbeginning, or of beginninglessness if we recognize its imperishability. This would-be seeker after truth, with the tricks of his dialectical cleverness, inserts into our argument what comes from his own stock, and so he fights with himself and overthrows himself, without ever touching anything of ours. For our position was nothing but this: that the Life as existing without beginning is called, by means of a fresh conception, ungenerate—is called, I say, not made such—and that we identify the Life as going on into infinity with the term imperishable—identify it, I say, as such, not make it such. And the result is that while it is a property of the Divine Life, inherent in the subject, to be infinite in both respects, the thoughts connected with that subject are expressed in this way or that only with regard to that particular term which indicates the thought expressed. One thought connected with that life is that it does not exist from any cause; this is indicated by the term ungenerate. Another thought about it is that it is limitless and endless; this is represented by the word imperishable. Thus, while the subject remains what it is, above everything, whether name or thought, the not being from any cause and the not changing into the non-existent are signified by means of the conception implied in the aforesaid words.

What, then, does Eunomius say to this? If He is imperishable only by reason of the unending in His Life, and ungenerate only by reason of the unbeginning, then wherein He is not imperishable He is perishable, and wherein He is not ungenerate He is generated. Who conceded to you this, Eunomius, that the imperishability is not to be associated with the whole life of God? Who ever divided that Life into two parts, and then put particular names to each half of the Life, so that to the division which the one name fitted the other could not be said to apply? This is the result of your dialectic sharpness; to say that the Life which has no beginning is perishable, and that what is imperishable cannot be associated with what is unbeginning! It is just as if, when one had said that man was rational, as well as capable of speculation and knowledge, attaching each phrase to the subject of them according to a different application and idea, some one was to jeer, and to go on in the same strain, If man is capable of speculation and knowledge, he cannot, as regards this, be rational, but wherein he is capable of such knowledge, he is this and this only, and his nature does not admit of his being the other; and reversely, if rational were made the definition of man, he were to deny in this case his being capable of this speculation and knowledge; for wherein he is rational, he is proved devoid of mind. But if the ridiculousness and absurdity in this case is plain to any one, neither in that former case is it at all doubtful. When you have read the passage from the Master, you will find that his childish sophistry will vanish like a shadow. In our case of the definition of man, the capability of knowledge is not hindered by the possession of reason, nor the reason by the capability of knowledge: no more is the eternity of the Divine Life deprived of imperishability, if it be unbeginning, or of beginninglessness, if we recognize its imperishability. This would-be seeker after truth, with the artifices of his dialectic shrewdness, inserts in our argument what comes from his own repertoire; and so he fights with himself and overthrows himself, without ever touching anything of ours. For our position was nothing but this; that the Life as existing without beginning is styled, by means of a fresh Conception, as ungenerate: is styled, I say, not, is made such; and that we mark the Life as going on into infinity with the appellation of imperishable; mark it, I say, as such, not, make it such; and that the result is, that while it is a property of the Divine Life, inherent in the subject, to be infinite in both views, the thoughts associated with that subject are expressed in this way or in that only as regards that particular term which indicates the thought expressed. One thought associated with that life is, that it does not exist from any cause; this is indicated by the term ungenerate. Another thought about it is, that it is limitless and endless; this is represented by the word imperishable. Thus, while the subject remains what it is, above everything, whether name or thought, the not being from any cause, and the not changing into the non-existent, are signified by means of the Conception implied in the aforesaid words.

What, then, out of everything we have said, has provoked him to this childish foolishness, in which he returns to the attack and repeats himself with these words: "He will, then, as unbeginning, be both ungenerate and perishable, and, as unending, be both imperishable and generated"? It is obvious to anyone with even the slightest capacity for thought, without our needing to test this logically, how absurdly foolish this is—or rather, how condemnably blasphemous. By the same argument he uses to establish this combination of the perishable and the unbeginning, he could ridicule any proper and worthy name conceived for the Deity. After all, these are not the only two ideas we associate with the Divine Life—I mean, being without beginning and not admitting dissolution. It is also called immaterial and without anger, immutable and incorporeal, invisible and formless, true and just, and there are countless other ways of thinking about the Divine Life, each of which is expressed by a distinct sound with its own particular meaning. Well, we can apply this method of unnatural combination that Eunomius has devised to any name—any name, I mean, that expresses some proper conception of the Deity. For example, immateriality and absence of anger are both predicated of the Divine Life, but not with the same thought in both cases. By the term "immaterial" we convey the idea of purity from any mixture with matter, and by the term "without anger" we convey freedom from any emotion of anger. Now Eunomius will very likely breeze right through all this and perform his dance, just as before, on our words. Stringing together his absurdities in the same way, he will say: "If He is called immaterial with respect to being separated from all mixture with matter, then in this respect He will not be without anger; and if He is without anger by reason of not indulging in anger, it is impossible to attribute immateriality to Him, but logic will compel us to admit that, insofar as He is exempt from matter, He is both immaterial and wrathful." And you will find the same thing applies to His other attributes. If you like, we will propose another pairing of the same kind: His immutability and His incorporeality. Since both these terms are used of the Divine Life in a distinct sense, in their case too Eunomius' skill will produce the same absurdity. For if His always being as He is is signified by the term "immutable," and if the term "incorporeal" represents the spirituality of His ousia (essence), Eunomius will certainly say the same thing here too: that the terms are irreconcilable and alien to each other, and that the notions our minds attach to them have no point of contact with one another. For insofar as God is always the same, He is immutable but not incorporeal; and with regard to the spirituality and formlessness of His ousia, while He possesses attributes of incorporeality, He is not immutable. The result is that when immutability is considered with respect to the Divine Life, along with that immutability it is established that It is corporeal; but if spirituality is what you are looking for, you prove that It is both incorporeal and mutable.

What, then, out of all that we have said, has stirred him up to this piece of childish folly, in which he returns to the charge and repeats himself in these words: He will, then, be, as unbeginning, at once ungenerate and perishable, and, as unending, at once imperishable and generated. It is plain to any possessing the least reflection, without our testing this logically, how absurdly foolish it is, or rather, how condemnably blasphemous. By the same argument as that whereby he establishes this union of the perishable and the unbeginning, he can make sport of any proper and worthily conceived name for the Deity. For it is not these two ideas only that we associate with the Divine Life, I mean, the being without beginning, and the not admitting of dissolution; but It is called as well immaterial and without anger, immutable and incorporeal, invisible and formless, true and just; and there are numberless other ways of thinking about the Divine Life, each one of which is announced by an expressive sound with a peculiar meaning of its own. Well, to any name — any name, I mean, expressive of some proper conception of the Deity — it is open for us to apply this method of unnatural union devised by Eunomius. For instance, immateriality and absence of anger are both predicated of the Divine Life; but not with the same thought in both cases; for by the term immaterial we convey the idea of purity from any mixture with matter, and by the term without anger the strangeness to any emotion of anger. Now in all probability Eunomius will run trippingly over all this, and have his dance, just as before, upon our words. Stringing together his absurdities in the same way, he will say: If wherein He is separated from all mixture with matter He is called immaterial, in this respect He will not be without anger; and if by reason of His not indulging in anger He is without anger, it is impossible to attribute to him immateriality, but logic will compel us to admit that, in so far as He is exempt from matter, He is both immaterial and wrathful; and so you will find the same to be the case in respect to his other attributes. And if you like we will propound another pairing of the same, i.e. His immutability and His incorporeality. For both these terms being used of the Divine Life in a distinct sense, in their case also Eunomius' skill will embellish the same absurdity. For if His being always as He is is signified by the term immutable, and if the term incorporeal represents the spirituality of His essence, Eunomius will certainly say the same here also, that the terms are irreconcilable, and alien to each other, and that the notions which our minds attach to them have no point of contact one with the other; for insofar as God is always the same He is immutable, but not incorporeal; and in regard to the spirituality and formlessness of His essence, while He possesses attributes of incorporeality, He is not immutable; so that it happens that when immutability is considered with respect to the Divine Life, along with that immutability it is established that It is corporeal; but if spirituality is the object of search, you prove that It is at once incorporeal and mutable.

These are the clever discoveries of Eunomius against the truth. Why should we go through his entire argument with tedious length? In every case you can see an attempt to establish the same worthless point. For example, using logic like the above, truth and justice will be found to oppose each other, since there is a difference in meaning between truth and justice. By the same reasoning, Eunomius will say about these also that truth is not injustice, and that justice is absent from truth. The result will be that when we think of God being alien to injustice, the Divine Being will be shown to be both just and untrue, while if we regard His being alien to untruth, we prove Him to be both true and unjust. The same applies to His being invisible and formless. According to wise reasoning similar to what we have presented, it will not be permissible to say either that the invisible exists in what is formless, or to say that what is formless exists in what is invisible. Instead, he will include form in what is invisible, and conversely, he will prove that what is formless is visible, using the same language about these as he devised about what is imperishable and unbeginning. The effect is that when we regard the incomposite nature of the Divine Life, we confess that it is formless, yet not invisible; and when we reflect that we cannot see God with our bodily eyes, while thus admitting His invisibility, we cannot admit His being formless. Now if these examples seem ridiculous and foolish, every sensible person will condemn even more the absurdity of the statements from which his argument has logically brought him to such a level of absurdity. Yet he criticizes the Master's words as wrong for seeing what is imperishable in what is unending, and what is unending in what is imperishable. Well then, let us also have our fun in a manner somewhat like this cleverness of Eunomius. Let us examine his opinion about these two names mentioned, and see what it is.

Such are the clever discoveries of Eunomius against the truth. For what need is there to go through all his argument with trifling prolixity? For in every instance you may see an attempt to establish the same futility. For instance, by an implication such as that above, what is true and what is just will be found opposed to each other; for there is a difference in meaning between truth and justice. So that by a parity of reasoning Eunomius will say about these also, that truth is not injustice, and that justice is absent from truth; and it will happen that, when in respect of God we think of His being alien to injustice, the Divine Being will be shown to be at once just and untrue, while if we regard His being alien to untruth, we prove Him to be at once true and unjust. So, too, of His being invisible and formless. For according to a wise reasoning similar to that which we have adduced, it will not be permissible to say either that the invisible exists in that which is formless, or to say that that which is formless exists in that which is invisible; but he will comprise form in that which is invisible, and so again, conversely, he will prove that that which is formless is visible, using the same language in respect of these as he devised in respect to that which is imperishable and unbeginning, to the effect that when we regard the incomposite nature of the Divine Life, we confess that it is formless, yet not invisible; and that when we reflect that we cannot see God with our bodily eyes, while thus admitting His invisibility, we cannot admit His being formless. Now if these instances seem ridiculous and foolish, much more will every sensible man condemn the absurdity of the statements, starting from which his argument has logically brought him to such a pitch of absurdity. Yet he carps at the Master's words, as wrong in seeing that which is imperishable in that which is unending, and that which is unending in that which is imperishable. Well, then, let us also have our sport, in a manner something like this cleverness of Eunomius. Let us examine his opinion about these two names aforesaid, and see what it is.

Eunomius says either "endless" means something different from "imperishable," or the two terms must mean the same thing. If he calls both one, he will be supporting our argument. But if he says that "imperishable" means one thing and "unending" means another, then necessarily, when things differ from each other, the force of one cannot be equivalent to the force of the other. If the idea of "imperishable" is one thing and "endless" is another, and each of these is what the other is not, then he will not grant that the imperishable is unending, nor that the unending is imperishable. Instead, the unending will be perishable, and the imperishable will be terminable. But I must ask my readers not to turn a ridiculous method of condemnation against us. We have been compelled to adopt such a playful tone against our opponent's mockeries, so that we might break through the childish effort of his sophistries. If it would not be too tiresome for my readers, it would be appropriate to set forth again what Eunomius says in his own words. He says, "If God is imperishable only because of the unending in His Life, and ungenerate only because of the unbeginning, then wherever He is not imperishable He is perishable, and wherever He is not ungenerate He is generated." Then returning to the attack, he repeats: "He will then be, as unbeginning, both ungenerate and perishable, and as unending, both imperishable and generated." I pass over the unnecessary and irrelevant remarks he has inserted here, as they contribute nothing to proving his point. Now I think it is easy for anyone to see, by his own words, that the drift of our argument has no connection whatever with the accusation he lays against us. For we call the God of the universe imperishable and ungenerate, the Master says, using these words with different applications. His transcending every limit of the ages and every distance in temporal extension, whether we consider the previous or the subsequent—this absence of limit or boundary on either side in the Eternal Life we mark in the one case with the name of imperishability, and in the other case with the name of ungeneracy. But Eunomius would make out that we say the being-without-beginning is His ousia, and again that the being-without-end is His ousia, as though we brought forward two contradictory segments of ousia. In this way he establishes an absurdity, and while setting up and then fighting against positions of his own, and reducing notions of his own invention to an absurdity, he lays no hold on our argument at any single point. For the claim that God is imperishable only where His Life is unending is his statement, not ours. Likewise, the claim that the imperishable is not without beginning is an invention of that same subtle cleverness which would make a negative attribute an ousia, whereas we do not define any such negative attribute as an ousia. Now it is a negative attribute of God that neither does the Life cease in dissolution, nor did It have a commencement in generation. We express this by these two words, imperishability and ungeneracy. But Eunomius, mixing up his own folly with our teaching, does not seem to understand that he is publishing his own disgrace by his slanderous accusations. For in defining ungeneracy as an ousia, he will logically arrive at the same pitch of absurdity which he ascribes to our teaching. For since "beginning" means one thing and "end" means another by virtue of an intervening extension, if anyone allows the privation of the first of these to be ousia, he must suppose His Life to be only half-subsisting in this being-without-beginning, and not to extend further by virtue of His nature to the being-without-end, if ungeneracy is regarded as itself His nature. But if anyone insists that both are ousia, then according to the definition put forward by Eunomius, each of these terms must necessarily, by virtue of its inherent meaning, be counted as ousia, being just as much as, and no more than, is indicated by the meaning of the term. Thus Eunomius' argument will not be without force, since that which is without beginning does not involve the notion of being without end, and vice versa. According to his account, each of the things mentioned is an ousia, and there is no confusion between the two in their relation to each other, the notion of beginning being different from that of ending, while the words which express privation of these also differ in their significations.

Either, he says, that which is endless is distinct in meaning from that which is imperishable, or else the two must make one. But if he call both one, he will be supporting our argument. But if he say that the meaning of the imperishable is one thing, and that that of being unending is another, then of necessity, in the case of things differing from each other, the force of the one cannot be equivalent to the force of the other. If, then, the idea of the imperishable is one, and that of being endless is another, and each of these is what the other is not, neither will he grant that the imperishable is unending, nor that the unending is imperishable, but the unending will be perishable, and the imperishable will be terminable. But I must beg my readers not to turn a ridiculous method of condemnation against us. We have been compelled to adopt such a sportive vein against the mockeries of our opponent, that we might thereby break through the puerile toil of his sophistries. But if it would not be too wearisome to my readers, it would not be out of place again to set forth what Eunomius says in his own words. If, says he, God is imperishable only by reason of the unending in His Life, and ungenerate only by reason of the unbeginning, then wherein He is not imperishable He is perishable, and wherein He is not ungenerate He is generated. Then returning to the charge, he repeats, He will then be, as unbeginning, at once ungenerate and perishable: and, as unending, at once imperishable and generated; for I pass over the superfluous and unseasonable remarks which he has interspersed here, as in no way contributing to the proving of his point. Now I think it is easy for any one to see, by his own words, that the drift of our argument has no connection whatever with the accusation which he lays against us. For we call the God of the universe imperishable and ungenerate, says the Master, using these words with different applications. His transcending, he continues, every limit of the ages, and every distance in temporal extension, whether we consider the previous or the subsequent, this absence of limit or circumscription on either hand in the Eternal Life we mark in the one case with the name of imperishability, and in the other case with the name of ungeneracy. But Eunomius would make out that we say that the being without beginning is His essence, and again that the being without end is His essence, as though we brought forward two contradictory segments of essence; and in this way he establishes an absurdity, and while laying down, and then fighting against, positions of his own, and reducing notions of his own concoction to an absurdity, he lays no hold on our argument in any single point. For that God is imperishable only wherein His Life is unending, is his statement, not ours. In like manner, that the imperishable is not without beginning, is an invention of that same subtle cleverness which would constitute a negative attribute an essence; whereas we do not define any such negative attribute as an essence. Now it is a negative attribute of God, that neither does the Life cease in dissolution, nor did It have a commencement in generation; and this we express by these two words, imperishability and ungeneracy. But Eunomius, mixing up his own folly with our teaching, does not seem to understand that he is publishing his own disgrace by his calumnious accusations. For, in defining ungeneracy as an essence, he will logically arrive at the same pitch of absurdity which he ascribes to our teaching. For as beginning means one thing, and end means another, by virtue of an intervening extension, if any one allow the privation of the first of these to be essence, he must suppose His Life to be only half subsisting in this being without beginning, and not to extend further, by virtue of His nature, to the being without end, if ungeneracy be regarded as itself His nature. But if any one insist that both are essence, then, according to the definition put forward by Eunomius, each of these terms must necessarily, by virtue of its inherent meaning, be counted as essence, being just as much as, and no more than, is indicated by the meaning of the term; and thus the argument of Eunomius will not be without force, inasmuch as that which is without beginning does not involve the notion of being without end, and vice versa, since according to his account each of the things mentioned is an essence, and there is no confusion between the two in their relation to each other, the notion of beginning being different to that of ending, while the words which express privation of these also differ in their significations.

But so that he himself may come to recognize his own trivial argument, we will refute him from his own statements. For in the course of his argument he says that God, in that He is without end, is ungenerate, and that, in that He is ungenerate, He is without end, as if the meanings of the two terms were identical. If, then, because He is without end He is ungenerate, and being without end and ungenerate are convertible terms, and he admits that the Son also is without end, by the same reasoning he must necessarily admit that the Son is ungenerate, if (as he has said) His being without end and His being without beginning are identical in meaning. For just as in the ungenerate he sees that which is without beginning, so he allows that in that which is without end he also sees that which is without beginning. For otherwise he would not have made the terms completely convertible. But God, he says, is ungenerate by physis, and not by contrast with the ages. Well, who contends that God is not by physis all that He is said to be? For we do not say that God is just, and almighty, and Father, and imperishable by contrast with the ages, nor by His relation to any other thing that exists. But in connection with the subject itself, whatever He may be in His physis, we hold every idea that is a reverent idea, so that even if neither ages nor any other created thing had been made, God would be no less what we believe Him to be, having no need of the ages to constitute Him what He is. But, says Eunomius, He has a Life that is not external, nor composite, nor admitting of differences; for He Himself is Life eternal by virtue of that Life itself immortal, by virtue of that immortality imperishable. This we are taught concerning the Only-begotten as well, nor can anyone challenge this teaching without openly opposing the declaration of Saint John. For life was not brought in from outside to the Son either (for He says, I am the Life), nor is His Life either composite, nor does it admit difference, but by virtue of that life itself He is immortal (for in what else but in life can we see immortality?), and by virtue of that immortality He is imperishable. For that which is stronger than death must naturally be incapable of corruption.

But that he himself also may be brought to the knowledge of his own trifling, we will convict him from his own statements. For in the course of his argument he says that God, in that He is without end, is ungenerate, and that, in that He is ungenerate, He is without end, as if the meanings of the two terms were identical. If, then, by reason of His being without end He is ungenerate, and the being without end and ungenerate are convertible terms, and he admits that the Son also is without end, by a parity of reasoning he must necessarily admit that the Son is ungenerate, if (as he has said) His being without end and His being without beginning are identical in meaning. For just as in the ungenerate he sees that which is without beginning, so he allows that in that which is without end also he sees that which is without beginning. For otherwise he would not have made the terms wholly convertible. But God, he says, is ungenerate by nature, and not by contrast with the ages. Well, who is there that contends that God is not by nature all that He is said to be? For we do not say that God is just, and almighty, and Father, and imperishable, by contrast with the ages, nor by His relation to any other thing that exists. But in connection with the subject itself, whatever He may be in His nature, we entertain every idea that is a reverent idea; so that supposing neither ages, nor any other created thing, had been made, God would no less be what we believe Him to be, being in no need of the ages to constitute Him what He is. But, says Eunomius, He has a Life that is not extraneous, nor composite, nor admitting of differences; for He Himself is Life eternal by virtue of that Life itself immortal, by virtue of that immortality imperishable. This we are taught respecting the Only-begotten as well; nor can any one impugn this teaching without openly opposing the declaration of S. John. For life was not brought in from without upon the Son either (for He says, I am the Life), nor is His Life either composite, nor does it admit difference, but by virtue of that life itself He is immortal (for in what else but in life can we see immortality?), and by virtue of that immortality He is imperishable. For that which is stronger than death must naturally be incapable of corruption.

Our argument agrees with him up to this point. But the riddle that comes with his words we must leave to those trained in the wisdom of Prunicus to interpret, for he seems to have drawn what he says from that system. "Being incorruptible without beginning, He is ungenerate without end, being so called absolutely, and independently of anything beside Himself." Now anyone who has purified ears and an enlightened understanding knows, even without me saying it, that beyond the jingle of words produced by their extraordinary combination, there is no trace of sense in what he says. And if any shadow of an idea could be found in such a noise of words, it would prove to be either profane or ridiculous. For what do you mean when you say that He is without beginning as being without end, and without end as being without beginning? Do you think beginning is identical with end, and that the two words are used in the same sense, just as the names Simon and Peter represent one and the same subject? And on this account, in accordance with your thinking that beginning and end are the same, did you combine under one meaning these two words which denote the absence of each other—end, I mean, and beginning—and take "being without end" as interchangeable with "being without beginning," and blend and confuse one word with the other? Is this the meaning of such a mixing up of words, when you say that He is ungenerate as being without end, and that He is without end as being ungenerate? Yet how is it that you did not see the profanity as well as the ridiculous folly of your words? For if by this novel confusion of the words they are made interchangeable, so that ungenerate means ungenerate without end, and that which is without end is such ungenerately, it follows by necessity that that which is without end must be so as being ungenerate. And thus it comes to pass, my good friend, that your much-talked-of ungeneracy, which you say is the only characteristic of the Father's ousia, will be found to be shared with whatever is immortal, and to be making all things consubstantial with the Father, because it appears alike in all things whose life, by reason of their immortality, goes on to infinity—archangels, that is, angels, human souls, and perhaps also the Apostate host, the Devil and his demons. For if that which is without end and imperishable must also by your argument be ungenerately imperishable, then in whatever is without end and imperishable there must be implied ungeneracy. These are the absurdities into which those men fall who, before they have learned what is fitting for them to learn, only publish their own ignorance by what they attempt to teach. For if he had any faculty of discernment, he would not be ignorant of the particular sense inherent in his terms "without beginning" and "without end," and that the term "without end" is common to all things whose life we believe capable of extension to infinity, while the term "without beginning" belongs to Him alone who is without originating cause. How, then, is it possible for us to regard that which is common to them all as equivalent to that which is believed by all to be a special attribute of the Deity alone, so that we thereby either extend ungeneracy to everything that shares in immortality, or else must not allow immortality to any one of them, seeing that being without end is to belong only to the ungenerate, and conversely, being ungenerate is to belong only to that which is without end? Thus everything without end would have to be regarded as ungenerate.

Thus far our argument goes with him. But the riddle with which he accompanies his words we must leave to those trained in the wisdom of Prunicus to interpret: for he seems to have produced what he has said from that system. Being incorruptible without beginning, He is ungenerate without end, being so called absolutely, and independently of anything beside Himself. Now whoever has purged ears and an enlightened understanding knows, even without my saying it, that beyond the jingle of words produced by their extraordinary combination, there is no trace of sense in what he says; and if any shadow of an idea could be found in such a din of words, it would prove to be either profane or ridiculous. For what do you mean when you say that He is without beginning as being without end, and without end as being without beginning? Do you think beginning identical with end, and that the two words are employed in the same sense, just as the appellations Simon and Peter represent one and the same subject, and on this account, in accordance with your thinking beginning and end the same, did you, combining under one signification these two words which denote privation of each other — end, I mean, and beginning — and taking the being without end as convertible with the being without end, blend and confound one word with the other; and is this the meaning of such a mixing up of words, when you say that He is ungenerate as being without end, and that He is without end as being ungenerate? Yet how is it that you did not see the profanity as well as the ridiculous folly of your words? For if by this novel confusion of the words they are made convertible, so that ungenerate means ungenerate without end, and that which is without end is such ungenerately, it follows by necessity that that which is without end must needs be so as being ungenerate: and thus it comes to pass, my good friend, that your much-talked-of ungeneracy, which you say is the only characteristic of the Father's essence, will be found to be shared with whatever is immortal, and to be making all things consubstantial with the Father, because it is alike apparent in all things whose life, by reason of their immortality, goes on to infinity, archangels, that is, angels, human souls, and, it may be also, in the Apostate host, the Devil and his dæmons. For if that which is without end, and imperishable, must also by your argument be ungenerately imperishable, then in whatsoever is without end and imperishable there must be connoted ungeneracy. These are the absurdities into which those men fall who, before they have learned what it is fitting for them to learn, only publish their own ignorance by what they attempt to teach. For if he had any faculty of discernment, he would not be ignorant of the peculiar sense inherent in his terms, without beginning, and without end, and that the term without end is common to all things whose life we believe capable of extension to infinity, while the term without beginning belongs to Him alone Who is without originating cause. How, then, is it possible for us to regard that which is common to them all, as equivalent to that which is believed by all to be a special attribute of the Deity alone, so that we thereby either extend ungeneracy to everything that shares in immortality, or else must not allow immortality to any one of them, seeing that the being without end is to belong only to the ungenerate, and vice versa, the being ungenerate is to belong only to that which is without end? Thus everything without end would have to be regarded as ungenerate.

Let's set this aside, along with the usual flood of foul slander in his words, and move on to his later quotations from Basil. But I think it would perhaps be best to pass over most of these later words without examining them. In all of them he shows himself the same, not engaging with what we have actually said, but only inventing points for himself to refute which he pretends are taken from our statement. Anyone with good judgment would consider it useless to go through these carefully, because any intelligent reader of his book can perceive his abusive language from his very words. He says that God's Glory existed before our leader's conception. We do not deny that either. For God's glory, whatever we are to think of it, existed not only before this present generation of ours, but before all creation—it transcends the ages. So what does his argument gain from this fact, that God's glory is admitted to be superior not only to Basil, but to all the ages? Yes, but this name is His glory, he says. But please tell us, so that we may agree with this statement, who has proved that the name is identical with the glory? A law of our nature, he replies, teaches us that in naming realities, the dignity of the names does not depend on the will of those who give them. What is this law of nature? And how is it that it is not in force among all people? If nature had really enacted such a law, it ought to have authority among all who share the common nature, just as the other things peculiar to that nature do. If, in short, it was the law of nature that caused the names to spring up for us from the objects, just as her plants spring up from seeds and roots, and she did not entrust the meaningful naming of each of the subjects to the choice of those who had to indicate the objects, then all humanity would speak one language. For if the names imposed upon these objects did not vary, we would not differ from one another in the area of speech. He says it is a holy thing, and most closely connected with the designs of Providence, that their sounds should be imposed upon realities from a source above us. How is it, then, that the Prophets were ignorant of this holy thing, and were not instructed in this design of Providence, since according to your account they did not make God at all of this Ungeneracy? How, too, is it that God Himself never knew of this kind of holiness, when He did not give names from above to the animals which He had formed, but gave away this power of name-giving to Adam? If it is closely connected with the designs of Providence, as Eunomius says, and a holy thing, that their sounds should be imposed from above upon realities, it is certainly an unholy thing, and an unfitting thing, that these names should have been fitted to the things that are by anyone here below. But the universal Guardian, he says, thought it right to implant these names in our minds by a law of His creation. And how was it, then, if these were implanted in the minds of men, that from Adam onward to your transgression no fruits of this folly were produced, though they were implanted, according to you, in those minds, so that ungeneracy should be the name of the Father's ousia? Adam and all in succession after him would have pronounced this word, if such had been implanted by God in his physis. For just as all that now grows upon the earth continues always, owing to a transmission of its seed from the first creation, and not one single seed at the present time changes the natural form, so this word, if it had been, as you say, implanted by God in our physis, would have sprung up along with the first utterances of the first-formed human beings, and would have accompanied the line of their posterity. But seeing that this word did not exist at the first (for no one in former generations and up to the present ever uttered such a word, except this man), it is clear that it is a bastard invention, that has sprung up from the seed of weeds, not from that good seed which God has sown, to use gospel language, in the field of our physis. For all the things that characterize our common physis do not have their beginning now, but appeared with that physis at its first formation; such as, for instance, the operation of the senses, the appetitive or contrary instinct of the person with regard to anything, and other generally acknowledged accompaniments of his physis, none of which a particular epoch has introduced among those born in it. But our humanity is preserved continually, from first to last, within the same circle of qualities, losing none which it had at the beginning, any more than it acquires any which it had not then. But just as, while sight is a faculty common to our physis, scientific observation comes by training to those who have devoted themselves to some science (it is not everyone, for instance, who can observe with the theodolite, or prove a theorem by means of lines in geometry, or do anything else where art has introduced, not mere sight, but a special use of sight), so too, while one might pronounce the possession of reason to be a common property of humanity united to the very ousia of our physis from above, the invention of terms that signify realities is the work of people who, possessing from above the power of reason, are continually finding out, according as they wish for them toward the clarification of that which they plainly see, certain words expressive of these things. But if these views are to prevail, he says, one of two things is proved: either that conception is prior to those who conceive, or that the names naturally befitting the Deity, and pre-existing before everything, are later than the beginning of humanity. Should we continue the fight against such assertions, and join issue with such obvious absurdity?

But let us leave this, and along with it the usual foul deluge of calumny in his words; and let us go on to his subsequent quotations (of Basil). But I think it would perhaps be well to pass without examination over most of these subsequent words. For in all of them he shows himself the same, not grappling with that which we have really said, but only inventing for himself points for refutation which he pretends are taken from our statement. To go carefully through these would be pronounced useless by any one possessed of judgment; for any understanding reader of his book can from his very words perceive his scurrility. He says that God's Glory is prior to our leader's conception. We too do not deny that. For God's glory, whatever we are to think of it, is prior not only to this present generation of ours, but to all creation; it transcends the ages. What, then, is gained for his argument from this fact, that God's glory is conceded to be superior not only to Basil, but to all the ages? Yes, but this name is His glory, he says. But pray tell us, in order that we may assent to this statement, who has proved that the appellation is identical with the glory? A law of our nature, he replies, teaches us that, in naming realities, the dignity of the names does not depend on the will of those who give them. What is this law of nature? And how is it that it is not in force among all? If nature had really enacted such a law, it ought to have authority among all who share the common nature, just as the other things peculiar to that nature have. If, in fine, it was the law of nature that caused the appellations to spring up for us from the objects, just as her plants spring up from seeds and roots, and she did not entrust the significant naming of each of the subjects to the choice of those who had to indicate the objects, then all mankind would be of one tongue. For if the names imposed upon these objects did not vary, we should not differ from one another in the department of speech. He says it is a holy thing, and most closely connected with the designs of Providence, that their sounds should be imposed upon realities from a source above us. How is it, then, that the Prophets were ignorant of this holy thing, and were not instructed in this design of Providence, who according to your account did not make God at all of this Ungeneracy? How, too, is it that the Deity Himself never knew of this kind of holiness, when He did not give names from above to the animals which He had formed, but gave away this power of name-giving to Adam? If it is closely connected with the designs of Providence, as Eunomius says, and a holy thing, that their sounds should be imposed from above upon realities, it is certainly an unholy thing, and an unfitting thing, that these names should have been fitted to the things that are by any here below. But the universal Guardian, he says, thought it right to engraft these names in our minds by a law of His creation. And how was it, then, if these were engrafted in the minds of men, that from Adam onward to your transgression no fruits of this folly were produced, grafted as they were, according to you, in those minds, so that ungeneracy should be the name of the Father's essence? Adam and all in succession after him would have pronounced this word, if such had been grafted by God in his nature. For as all that now grows upon the earth continues always, owing to a transmission of its seed from the first creation, and not one single seed at the present time innovates upon the natural form, so this word, if it had been, as you say, grafted by God in our nature, would have sprung up along with the first utterances of the first-formed human beings, and would have accompanied the line of their posterity. But seeing that this word did not exist at the first (for no one in former generations and up to the present ever uttered such a word, except this man), it is plain that it is a bastard invention, that has sprung up from the seed of tares, not from that good seed which God has sown, to use evangelic words, in the field of our nature. For all the things that characterize our common nature do not have their beginning now, but appeared with that nature at its first formation; such, for instance, as the operation of the senses, the appetitive, or contrary, instinct of the man with regard to anything, and other generally acknowledged accompaniments of his nature, none of which a particular epoch has introduced among those born in it; but our humanity is preserved continually, from first to last, within the same circle of qualities, losing none which it had at the beginning, any more than it acquires any which it had not then. But just as, while sight is a faculty common to our nature, scientific observation comes by training to those who have devoted themselves to some science (it is not every one, for instance, who can observe with the theodolite, or prove a theorem by means of lines in geometry, or do anything else, where art has introduced, not mere sight, but a special use of sight), so too, while one might pronounce the possession of reason to be a common property of humanity united to the very essence of our nature from above, the invention of terms significative of realities is the work of men who, possessing from above the power of reason, are continually finding out, according as they wish for them towards the elucidation of that which they plainly see, certain words expressive of these things. But if these views are to prevail, says he, one of two things is proved; either that conception is anterior to those who conceive, or that the names naturally befitting the Deity, and pre-existent to everything, are posterior to the beginning of man. Ought we to continue the fight against such assertions, and join issue with such manifest absurdity?

But who could possibly be so simple-minded as to be fooled by such arguments and to think that if names are once believed to be a product of the reasoning faculty, he must either allow that the utterance of names existed before those who utter them, or else think he is sinning against the Deity because every person continues to name the Deity according to how each one is able to conceive of Him after birth? Regarding this last assumption, it has already been explained that the Supreme Being does not Himself need words delivered by a voice and tongue, and it would be unnecessary to repeat what would only weigh down the argument. In short, a Being whose physis is neither lacking nor excessive, but simply perfect, neither fails to possess anything that is necessary, nor possesses what is not necessary. Therefore, since we have already proved, and all thinking people unanimously agree, that being called by names is not a necessity of the Deity, no one can deny the extreme profanity of assigning to Him what is not a necessity.

But who, pray, is so simple as to be harmed by such arguments, and to imagine that if names are once believed to be an outcome of the reasoning faculty, he must allow that the utterance of names is anterior to those who utter them, or else that he must think he is sinning against the Deity, in that every man continues to name the Deity, according as each after birth is capable of conceiving Him? As to this last supposition, it has been already explained that the Supreme Being has no need Himself of words as delivered by a voice and a tongue; and it would be superfluous to repeat what would only encumber the argument. In fine, a Being Whose nature is neither lacking nor redundant, but simply perfect, neither fails to possess anything that is necessary, nor possesses what is not necessary. Since, then, we have proved previously, and all thinking men unanimously agree, that the calling by names is not a necessity of the Deity, no one can deny the extreme profanity of thus assigning to Him what is not a necessity.

I don't think we need to spend more time on this or examine closely what comes next. To the more careful reader, the argument our opponent has developed will itself appear to serve as a defense of orthodox belief. For instance, he says that imperishability and immortality are the very essence of the Deity. I see no reason to argue with him, whether these qualities simply belong to the Deity or whether they are, by their very meaning, His essence. Whichever of these two positions is accepted, it will fully support our argument. If being imperishable simply belongs to the essence, then not being generated will also most certainly simply belong to it, and so the concept of ungeneracy will be removed from being the defining mark of the essence. On the other hand, if someone affirms that imperishability is God's essence because God is not subject to destruction, and therefore defines immortality as His very essence because He is stronger than death, and if the Son is imperishable and immortal (as He is), then imperishability and immortality will also be the essence of the Only-begotten. If, then, the Father is imperishability and the Son is imperishability, and each of these imperishabilities is the essence, and no difference exists between them regarding the concept of imperishability, one essence will not differ from the other essence in any way, since in both equally the nature is completely free from corruption. Even if he should use the same method as before and present us with his dilemma, from which he thinks there is no escape, saying that if we distinguish what belongs to something from what it is, we make the Deity composite, whereas if we acknowledge His simplicity, then imperishability and ungeneracy are clearly seen to signify His very essence—even then we can show that he is fighting on our side. For if he insists that God is made composite by our saying that anything belongs to Him, then he certainly cannot exclude Fatherhood from the essence either, but must confess that He is Father by His nature just as much as He is imperishable and immortal. And so, without intending it, he must admit that the Son also shares in that intimate nature, because it will not be possible, if God is essentially Father, to exclude the Son from a relationship to Him that is likewise essential. But if he says that Fatherhood belongs to God yet is outside the sphere of the substance, then he must grant us that we may say whatever we like belongs to the Deity, since the Divine simplicity is not at all compromised if His quality of ungeneracy is understood to mean something outside the essence. However, if he declares that imperishability and ungeneracy do mean the essence, and if he insists that these two words are equivalent, since there is no difference between them because the same meaning lies in each, and if he thus asserts that the very concept of imperishability and ungeneracy is one and the same, then the One who is the first of these must necessarily be the second as well. But even these men have no doubt, let us note, that the Son is imperishable. Therefore, by Eunomius' argument, the Son is also ungenerate, if imperishability and ungeneracy are to mean the same thing. So he must accept one of two alternatives: either he must agree with us that ungeneracy is different from imperishability, or, if he sticks to his claims, he must in various ways speak blasphemy about the Only-begotten, making Him, for instance, perishable in order to avoid having to say He is ungenerate, or ungenerate in order to avoid proving Him perishable.

But I do not think that we need linger on this, nor minutely examine that which follows. To the more attentive reader, the argument elaborated by our opponent will itself appear in the light of a special pleader on the side of orthodoxy. He says, for instance, that imperishability and immortality are the very essence of the Deity. For my part I see no need to contend with him, no matter whether these qualities aforesaid only accrue to the Deity, or whether they are, by virtue of their signification, His essence; whichever of these two views is adopted, it will completely support our argument. For if the being imperishable only accrues to the essence, the not being generated will also most certainly only accrue to it; and so the idea of ungeneracy will be ejected from being the mark of the essence. If, on the other hand, because God is not subject to destruction, one affirms imperishability to be His essence, and, because He is stronger than death, one therefore defines immortality to be His very essence, and if the Son is imperishable and immortal (as He is), imperishability and immortality will also be the essence of the Only-begotten. If, then, the Father is imperishability, and the Son imperishability, and each of these imperishabilities is the essence, and no difference exists between them as regards the idea of imperishability, one essence will differ from the other essence in no way at all, seeing that in both equally the nature is a stranger to any corruption. Even if he should resume the same method as before, and place us on the horns of his dilemma from which, as he thinks, there is no escape, saying that, if we distinguish that which accrues from that which is, we make the Deity composite, whereas if we acknowledge His simplicity, then the imperishability and the ungeneracy are seen at once to be significative of His very essence — even then again we can show that he is fighting for our side. For if he will have it that God is made composite by our saying that anything accrues to Him, then he certainly cannot eject the Fatherhood either from the essence, but must confess that He is Father by His nature as much as He is imperishable and immortal; and so without intending it he must admit the Son also to partake of that intimate nature; for it will not be possible, if God is essentially Father, to exclude the Son from a relationship to Him thus essential. But if he says that the Fatherhood accrues to God, but is outside the circle of the substance, then he must concede to us that we may say anything we like accrues to the Deity, since the Divine simplicity is in no way marred, if His quality of ungeneracy is made to mean something outside the essence. If, however, he declares that the imperishability and the ungeneracy do mean the essence, and if he insists that these two words are equivalent, since, by reason of the same meaning lying in each, there is no difference between them, and if he thus assert that the very idea of imperishability and ungeneracy is one and the same, the One who is the first of these must necessarily be the second too. But that the Son is imperishable, let us observe, even these men entertain no doubt; therefore, by Eunomius' argument, the Son also is ungenerate, if imperishability and ungeneracy are to mean the same thing. So that he must accept one of two alternatives; either he must agree with us that ungeneracy is other than imperishability, or, if he abides by his assertions, he must in various ways speak blasphemy about the Only-begotten, making Him, for instance, perishable, in order that he may not have to say that He is ungenerate; or ungenerate, in order that he may not prove Him perishable.

I'm not sure which is better: to follow this subject step by step, or to end our contest with such foolishness right here. When people are selling poisonous drugs, a very small test assures buyers of the destructive power contained in the entire drug, and no one doubts, after discovering through a test its partial deadliness, that the whole drug being sold is completely of this deadly character. In the same way, I think it should no longer be doubtful to thoughtful people that this poisonous dose of argument, a sample of which has been shown in what we have already examined, will continue throughout to be just like what we have already refuted. For this reason I think it better not to prolong this detailed examination of his absurdities. Nevertheless, since the champions of this error discover plausibility for it from many sources, and there is reason to fear that overlooking any of their efforts will provide a convenient excuse for misrepresenting us as having avoided their strongest point, I ask those who follow us in this work to continue with our argument, without accusing us of being too wordy, while it expands to meet the attacks of error along the entire front. Notice, then, that he has barely finished weaving in the depths of his sleep this dream about conception before he arms himself again from his storehouse with those monstrous and senseless methods, and turns his argument into another dream much more meaningless than his previous illusion. But we can best understand how absurd his efforts are by observing his treatment of privation; though to wrestle with his nonsense in its full extent would require a Eunomius, or one of his school, men who have never spent a thought on serious realities. We will, however, briefly go over the main points of it, so that while none of his charges is omitted, no meaningless detail may help to prolong the discussion to an absurd length.

But now I do not know which it is best to do; to pursue step by step this subject, or to put an end here to our contest with such folly. Well, as in the case of those who are selling destructive drugs, a very slight experiment guarantees to the purchasers the destructive power latent in all the drug, and no one doubts, after he has found out by an experiment its partial deadliness, that the drug sold is entirely of this deadly character, so I think it can be no longer doubtful to reflecting persons that this poisonous dose of argument, of which a specimen has been shown in what we have already examined, will continue throughout to be such as that which we have just refuted. For this reason I think it better not to prolong this detailed dwelling upon his absurdities. Nevertheless, seeing that the champions of this error discover plausibility for it from many quarters, and there is reason to fear lest to have overlooked any of their efforts will be made a specious pretext for misrepresenting us as having shirked their strongest point, I beg for this reason those who follow us out in this work to accompany our argument still, without charging us with prolixity, while it expands itself to meet the attacks of error along the whole line. Observe, then, that he has scarcely ceased weaving in the depths of his slumber this dream about conception before he arms himself again from his storehouse with those monstrous and senseless methods, and turns his argument into another dream much more meaningless than his previous illusion. But we may best know how absurd his efforts are by observing his treatment of privation; though to grapple with his nonsense in all its range would require a Eunomius, or one of his school, men who have never spent a thought on serious realities. We will, however, in a concise way run over the heads of it, that while none of his charges is omitted, no meaningless item may help to prolong the discussion to an absurd length.

When he is about to introduce this discussion of terms of privation, he claims he will demonstrate what he calls the incurable absurdity of our teaching, along with its pretended and blameworthy caution. This is his promise; but what is his proof of these accusations? He says that some have claimed the Deity is ungenerate only by virtue of the privation of generation, but we say, in refuting these people, that neither this word nor this concept applies in any way to the Deity. Let him identify who actually maintains such a position, if anyone from the first creation of humanity to the present day, whether in foreign lands or among the Greeks, has ever committed to such a statement; and we will be silent. But no one in all of human history will be found to have said such a thing, except perhaps some madman. For who was ever so drunk, who was ever so overcome by madness or delirium, as to say explicitly that generation naturally belongs to the ungenerate God, but that, deprived of this natural condition, He becomes ungenerate instead of generated? But these are rhetorical tricks: to escape the shame of refutation when they are proven wrong by inventing fictional opponents. This is how he defended that famous Apology of his, shifting the blame for that title to jurors and accusers, though he was unable to show that there were any accusers, any trial, or any court at all. Now too, with the air of someone correcting another's foolishness, he pretends that necessity forces him to speak this way. This is what his proof of our incurable absurdity and our pretended and blameworthy caution amounts to. But he goes on to say that we do not know what to do in our present situation, and that to cover our confusion we attack him for his worldly learning, while we ourselves claim exclusive possession of the Holy Spirit's teaching. Here is his other fantasy: that he has acquired so much secular learning that he appears through it to be a formidable opponent to Basil. Just as some people have imagined themselves enthroned with royal power and exalted rank, because the deluded vision of their dreams, born from their waking desires, puts such fantasies in their hearts. He says that Basil, not knowing what to do after what has been said, attacks him for his worldly learning. He would indeed have valued such an attack highly, that is, being thought formidable because of his abundance of words even by any ordinary listener, not to mention by Basil and by people like him (if any are completely like him, or ever have been). But as for his intervening argument, if such crude vulgarity and such tasteless mockery can be called argument, by which he thinks he attacks our position, I pass over all of it, for I consider it an abominable and offensive thing to contaminate our treatise with such filth; and I loathe these things as people loathe some swollen and foul ulcer, or turn away from the sight of those whose skin is bloated by excess of fluids and disfigured with lumpy growths. And for a while our argument will be allowed to develop freely, without having to turn to defend itself against people who are ready to mock and tear apart everything that is said.

When, then, he is on the point of introducing this treatment of terms of privation, he takes upon himself to show the incurable absurdity, as he calls it, of our teaching, and its simulated and culpable caution. Such is his promise; but the proof of these accusations is, what? Some have said that the Deity is ungenerate by virtue only of the privation of generation; but we say, in refutation of these, that neither this word nor this idea is in any way whatever applicable to the Deity. Let him point out the maintainer of such a statement, if any from the first creation of man to the present day, whether in foreign or in Greek lands, has ever committed himself to such an utterance; and we will be silent. But no one in the whole history of mankind will be found to have said such a thing, except some madman. For who was ever so reeling from intoxication, who was ever so beside himself with madness or delirium, as to say, in so many words, that generation belongs naturally to the ungenerate God, but that, deprived of this natural condition, He becomes ungenerate instead of generated? But these are the shifts of rhetoric; namely, to escape when they are refuted from the shame of their refutation by means of some supposititious characters. It was in this way that he has apologized for that celebrated Apology of his, transferring as he did the blame for that title to jurymen and accusers, though unable to show that there were any accusers, any trial, or any court at all. Now, too, with the air of one who would correct another's folly, he pretends that he is driven by necessity to speak in this way. This is what his proof of our incurable absurdity, and our simulated and culpable caution, amounts to. But he goes on to say that we do not know what to do in our present position, and that to cover our perplexity we take to abusing him for his worldly learning, while we ourselves claim a monopoly of the teaching of the Holy Spirit. Here is his other dream, namely, that he has got so much of the heathen learning, that he appears by means of it a formidable antagonist to Basil. Just so there have been some men who have imagined themselves enthroned with basilicals, and of an exalted rank, because the deluded vision of their dreams, born of their waking longings, puts such fancies into their hearts. He says that Basil, not knowing what to do after what has been said, abuses him for his worldly learning. He would indeed have set a high value on such abuse, that is, on being thought formidable because of the abundance of his words even by any ordinary hearer, not to mention by Basil, and by men like him (if any are entirely like him, or ever have been). But, as for his intervening argument, if such low scurrility, and such tasteless buffoonery, can be called argument, by which he thinks he impugns our cause, I pass it all over, for I deem it an abominable and ungracious thing to soil our treatise with such pollutions; and I loathe them as men loathe some swollen and noisome ulcer, or turn from the spectacle presented by those whose skin is bloated by excess of humours, and disfigured with tuberous warts. And for a while our argument shall be allowed to expand itself freely, without having to turn to defend itself against men who are ready to scoff at and to tear to pieces everything that is said.

Every term—that is, every true term—is an expression that articulates some movement of thought. And every operation and movement of sound thinking is directed, as far as possible, toward the knowledge and contemplation of some reality. Now the entire world of realities is divided into two parts: the intelligible and the sensible. Regarding sensible phenomena, knowledge is readily available to everyone because perception of them is so immediate; the judgment of the senses leaves no room for doubt about what stands before them. The differences in color and the differences in all the other qualities we judge by hearing, smell, touch, or taste can be known and named by anyone who shares our common humanity. The same applies to all other things that seem more obvious to our understanding—things pertaining to the age we live in, designed for political and moral purposes. But in contemplating the intelligible world, because that world transcends the grasp of the senses, we circle around the object of our search in various ways. Then, according to the idea that arises in each of us about it, we announce the result as best we can, striving to come as close as possible to the full meaning of the thing we are thinking about through expressive phrases. In this effort, though it is sometimes possible to succeed in both respects—when thought hits the mark and speech interprets the notion with the appropriate word—it may also happen that we fail in both, or at least in one of the two, when either our comprehending faculty or our interpreting capacity misses the proper mark. Since there are two factors that make any term correct—mental precision and verbal expression—the result that gains approval in both ways will certainly be preferable. But it will still be a valuable achievement not to have missed the right conception, even if the word itself happens to be inadequate to that thought. Whenever our thought focuses on those high and unseen things that the senses cannot reach—I mean that divine and unspeakable world about which it is reckless to grasp anything at random in thought, and even more reckless to trust any chance word to represent the conception arising from it—then we turn from the mere sound of phrases, uttered well or badly depending on the speaker's mental faculty. Instead, we search for the thought alone that lies within the phrases, to see whether it is sound or not, and we leave the minutiae of phrase and name to be dealt with by the technicalities of grammarians. Now, since we mark with a label only those things we know, and since those things above our knowledge cannot be grasped by any distinctive terms (for how can one put a mark on something we know nothing about?), therefore, because in such cases no appropriate term can be found to mark the subject adequately, we are compelled to use many different names, as opportunity allows, to reveal our conjectures as they arise within us regarding the Deity. But on the other hand, all that actually comes within our comprehension must be of one of these four kinds: either contemplated as existing in an extension of distance, or suggesting the idea of a capacity in space within which its details are detected, or it comes within our field of vision by being circumscribed by a beginning or an end where the non-existent bounds it in each direction (for everything that has a beginning and an end of its existence begins from the non-existent and ends in the non-existent), or lastly, we grasp the phenomenon by means of an association of qualities in which dying, suffering, change, alteration, and the like are combined. Recognizing this, in order that the Supreme Being may not appear to have any connection whatever with things below, we use, with regard to His physis, ideas and phrases that express separation from all such conditions. We call, for instance, that which is above all times pre-temporal, that which is above beginning unbeginning, that which is not brought to an end unending, that which has a personality removed from body incorporeal, that which is never destroyed imperishable, that which is unreceptive of change, suffering, or alteration, passionless, changeless, and unalterable. Such a class of terms can be organized into whatever system people wish by those who want one, and they can assign to these actual terms other labels—privative, for instance, or negative, or whatever they like. We leave the teaching and learning of such things to those who are ambitious for it. We will investigate the thoughts alone, whether they are within or beyond the circle of a religious and adequate conception of the Deity.

Every term — every term, that is, which is really such — is an utterance expressing some movement of thought. But every operation and movement of sound thinking is directed as far as it is possible to the knowledge and the contemplation of some reality. But then the whole world of realities is divided into two parts; that is, into the intelligible and the sensible. With regard to sensible phænomena, knowledge, on account of the perception of them being so near at hand, is open for all to acquire; the judgment of the senses gives occasion to no doubt about the subject before them. The differences in color, and the differences in all the other qualities which we judge of by means of the sense of hearing, or smell, or touch, or taste, can be known and named by all possessing our common humanity; and so it is with all the other things which appear to be more obvious to our apprehension, the things, that is, pertaining to the age in which we live, designed for political and moral ends. But in the contemplation of the intelligible world, on account of that world transcending the grasp of the senses, we move, some in one way, some in another, around the object of our search; and then, according to the idea arising in each of us about it, we announce the result as best we can, striving to get as near as possible to the full meaning of the thing thought about through the medium of expressive phrases. In this, though it is often possible to have achieved the task in both ways, when thought does not fail to hit the mark, and utterance interprets the notion with the appropriate word, yet it may happen that we may fail even in both, or in one, at least, of the two, when either the comprehending faculty or the interpreting capacity is carried beside the proper mark. There being, then, two factors by which every term is made a correct term, the mental exactitude and the verbal utterance, the result which commands approval in both ways, will certainly be the preferable; but it will not be a lesser gain, not to have missed the right conception, even though the word itself may happen to be inadequate to that thought. Whenever then, our thought is intent upon those high and unseen things which sense cannot reach (I mean, upon that divine and unspeakable world with regard to which it is an audacious thing to grasp in thought anything in it at random and more audacious still to trust to any chance word the representing of the conception arising from it), then, I say, turning from the mere sound of phrases, uttered well or ill according to the mental faculty of the speaker, we search for the thought, and that alone, which is found within the phrases, to see whether that itself be sound, or otherwise; and we leave the minutiæ of phrase and name to be dealt with by the artificialities of grammarians. Now, seeing that we mark with an appellation only those things which we know, and those things which are above our knowledge it is not possible to seize by any distinctive terms (for how can one put a mark upon a thing we know nothing about?), therefore, because in such cases there is no appropriate term to be found to mark the subject adequately, we are compelled by many and differing names, as there may be opportunity, to divulge our surmises as they arise within us with regard to the Deity. But, on the other hand, all that actually comes within our comprehension is such that it must be of one of these four kinds: either contemplated as existing in an extension of distance, or suggesting the idea of a capacity in space within which its details are detected, or it comes within our field of vision by being circumscribed by a beginning or an end where the non-existent bounds it in each direction (for everything that has a beginning and an end of its existence, begins from the non-existent, and ends in the non-existent), or, lastly, we grasp the phænomenon by means of an association of qualities wherein dying, and sufferance, and change, and alteration, and such-like are combined. Considering this, in order that the Supreme Being may not appear to have any connection whatever with things below, we use, with regard to His nature, ideas and phrases expressive of separation from all such conditions; we call, for instance, that which is above all times pre-temporal, that which is above beginning unbeginning, that which is not brought to an end unending, that which has a personality removed from body incorporeal, that which is never destroyed imperishable, that which is unreceptive of change, or sufferance, or alteration, passionless, changeless, and unalterable. Such a class of appellations can be reduced to any system that they like by those who wish for one; and they can fix on these actual appellations other appellations privative, for instance, or negative, or whatever they like. We yield the teaching and the learning of such things to those who are ambitious for it; and we will investigate the thoughts alone, whether they are within or beyond the circle of a religious and adequate conception of the Deity.

If God did not exist previously, or if there will be a time when He will not exist, He cannot be called either unending or without beginning. The same applies to terms like inalterable, incorporeal, or imperishable—if there is any hint of body, destruction, or change with regard to Him. But if it is part of our faith to attribute none of these things to Him, then it is our sacred duty to use privative names—that is, names that deny the things incompatible with His nature—and to say all that we have already listed so many times: that He is imperishable, unending, ungenerate, and the other terms in that category. The meaning inherent in each of these terms only tells us about the absence of what is obvious to our perception, but does not explain the actual physis of the one who is removed from those incompatible conditions. The meaning of these names does point out what the Deity is not, but what that further thing—which is not these things—essentially is, remains unrevealed. Moreover, even the rest of these names, whose meaning does indicate some position or state, do not give us an indication of the Divine physis itself, but only of the results of our reverent thinking about it. When we conclude generally that nothing in existence, whether an object of sense or of thought, comes about spontaneously or by chance, but that everything discoverable in the world is connected to the Being who transcends all existences and in whom it has the source of its continued existence, and we then perceive the beauty and majesty of the wonderful sights in creation, we gain from these and similar signs a new range of thoughts about the Deity. We express each one of the thoughts arising within us with a special name, following the advice of Wisdom, who says that by the greatness and beauty of the creatures, the Maker of them is seen proportionately. We therefore call Him Creator, the one who has made all mortal things, and Almighty, the one who has encompassed so vast a creation, whose might has been able to realize His will. When we perceive the good that is in our own life, we accordingly give the name Good to Him who is our life's first cause. Then, having learned from the Divine writings about the incorruptibility of the judgment to come, we therefore call Him Judge and Just. To sum up in one word: we transfer the thoughts that arise within us about the Divine Being into the form of a corresponding name, so that there is no name given to the Divine Being apart from some distinct understanding about Him. Even the word God (Theos) we understand to have come into usage from the activity of His seeing, for our faith tells us that the Deity is everywhere, sees (theasthai) all things, and penetrates all things. Then we stamp this thought with this name (Theos), guided to it by the Holy Voice. For someone who says, "O God, attend to me," and "Look, O God," and "God knows the secrets of the heart," clearly reveals the hidden meaning of this word—namely, that Theos is so called from theasthai. For there is no difference between saying "Attend to," "Look," and "See." Since, then, the seer must look toward something to be seen, God is rightly called the Seer of that which is to be seen. We are taught, then, by this word one particular operation of the Divine Being, though we do not grasp in thought by means of it His ousia itself, believing nevertheless that the Divine glory suffers no loss because we are at a loss for a naturally appropriate name. For this inability to express such inexpressible things, while it reflects the poverty of our own nature, provides evidence of God's glory, teaching us, in the words of the Apostle, that the only name naturally appropriate to God is to believe Him to be above every name. That He transcends every effort of thought and is far beyond any defining by a name constitutes proof to humanity of His ineffable majesty.

Well, then, if God did not exist formerly, or if there be a time when He will not exist, He cannot be called either unending or without beginning; and so also neither inalterable, nor incorporeal, nor imperishable, if there is any suspicion of body, or destruction, or alteration with regard to Him. But if it be part of our religion to attribute to Him none of these things, then it is a sacred duty to use of Him names privative of the things abhorrent to His Nature, and to say all that we have so often enumerated already, viz. that He is imperishable, and unending, and ungenerate, and the other terms of that class, where the sense inherent in each only informs us of the privation of that which is obvious to our perception, but does not interpret the actual nature of that which is thus removed from those abhorrent conditions. What the Deity is not, the signification of these names does point out; but what that further thing, which is not these things, is essentially, remains undivulged. Moreover, even the rest of these names, the sense of which does indicate some position or some state, do not afford that indication of the Divine nature itself, but only of the results of our reverent speculations about it. For when we have concluded generally that no single thing existing, whether an object of sense or of thought, is formed spontaneously or fortuitously, but that everything discoverable in the world is linked to the Being Who transcends all existences, and possesses there the source of its continuance, and we then perceive the beauty and the majesty of the wonderful sights in creation, we thus get from these and such-like marks a new range of thoughts about the Deity, and interpret each one of the thoughts thus arising within us by a special name, following the advice of Wisdom, who says that by the greatness and beauty of the creatures proportionately the Maker of them is seen Wisdom 13:5. We address therefore as Creator Him Who has made all mortal things, and as Almighty Him Who has compassed so vast a creation, Whose might has been able to realize His wish. When too we perceive the good that is in our own life, we give in accordance with this the name of Good to Him Who is our life's first cause. Then also having learned from the Divine writings the incorruptibility of the judgment to come, we therefore call Him Judge and Just, and to sum up in one word, we transfer the thoughts that arise within us about the Divine Being into the mould of a corresponding name; so that there is no appellation given to the Divine Being apart from some distinct intuition about Him. Even the word God ( Θεὸς) we understand to have come into usage from the activity of His seeing; for our faith tells us that the Deity is everywhere, and sees ( θεασθαι) all things, and penetrates all things, and then we stamp this thought with this name ( Θεὸς), guided to it by the Holy Voice. For he who says, O God, attend unto me, and, Look, O God, and, God knows the secrets of the heart plainly, reveals the latent meaning of this word, viz. that Θεὸς is so called from θεασθαι. For there is no difference between saying Attend unto, Look, and See. Since, then, the seer must look towards some sight, God is rightly called the Seer of that which is to be seen. We are taught, then, by this word one sectional operation of the Divine Being, though we do not grasp in thought by means of it His substance itself, believing nevertheless that the Divine glory suffers no loss because of our being at a loss for a naturally appropriate name. For this inability to give expression to such unutterable things, while it reflects upon the poverty of our own nature, affords an evidence of God's glory, teaching us as it does, in the words of the Apostle, that the only name naturally appropriate to God is to believe Him to be above every name Philippians 2:9. That he transcends every effort of thought, and is far beyond any circumscribing by a name, constitutes a proof to man of His ineffable majesty.

That's what we can know about the names we use in any way when referring to God. We've offered a straightforward explanation of them, without complicated arguments, for the benefit of readers who come with good intentions. As for Eunomius' weak arguments about these names, we think it would be disgraceful and inappropriate for us to take them seriously enough to refute them. What could anyone say in response to someone who claims that we give more importance to the outward appearance of a name than to the value of what is named, giving names priority over realities and treating unequal things as equal? Those are his actual words. Well, anyone who is able should carefully judge whether this slanderous accusation he makes against us contains anything dangerous enough to make it worthwhile for us to defend ourselves against the charge of giving names priority over realities. After all, it's obvious to everyone that no single name has any substantial reality in itself, but rather every name is simply a marker placed on some reality or concept, having no existence of its own either as a fact or as a thought.

Thus much, then, is known to us about the names uttered in any form whatever in reference to the Deity. We have given a simple explanation of them, unencumbered with argument, for the benefit of our candid hearers; as for Eunomius' nerveless contentions about these names, we judge it a thing disgraceful and unbecoming to us seriously to confute them. For what could one say in answer to a man who declares that we attach more weight to the outward form of the name than to the value of the thing named, giving to names the prerogative over realities, and equality to things unequal? Such are the words that he gives utterance to. Well, let any one who can do so considerately, judge whether this calumnious charge of his against us has anything in it dangerous enough to make it worth our while to defend ourselves as to our giving to names the prerogative over realities; for it is plain to every one that there is no single name that has in itself any substantial reality, but that every name is but a recognizing mark placed on some reality or some idea, having of itself no existence either as a fact or a thought.

How is it possible to assign one's gifts to what doesn't exist? Let this man, who claims to use words and phrases according to their natural meaning, explain this to his followers. I wouldn't have mentioned this at all, except that it forces me to prove our author's weakness in both thought and expression. As for all the passages from Scripture that he drags in—though they have nothing to do with his point—where he formulates a difference of immortality between angels and humans, I don't know what he's aiming at or what he hopes to prove by them, so I'll pass over them. The immortal, as long as it is immortal, admits no degrees of more or less based on comparison. For if one thing in the comparison suffers a reduction or loss of its immortality through the force of contrast, then such a thing cannot be called immortal at all. How can something be called absolutely immortal if mortality is detected in it through this comparison and contrast? And consider his hair-splitting: he won't allow the idea of privation to be consistent and universal, but instead claims that while separation from good things is privation, the absence of bad things shouldn't be called by that term. If he gets his way here, he will take the truth from the Apostle's words, which say that He only has immortality, which He gives to others. How this newly introduced dictum of his relates to his preceding argument, neither we nor anyone else among thoughtful people can understand. Yet because we lack the mental strength to grasp these scientific subtleties, he calls us unscientific both in our judgment about objects and in our use of terms—those are his exact words. But I'll pass over all this without further comment, since it has no power to shake the truth. I'll also pass over how he misrepresents our explanation of the imperishable and the unembodied—namely, that the latter signifies the undimensional, where the threefold extension belonging to all bodies is not found, and the former signifies what is not receptive of destruction. And how he says we don't think it right to let the shape of these words be lost by extending them to ideas that don't apply to them, or to imagine that each indicates something not present or not occurring, but rather that they indicate the actual ousia (essence). All this I consider worthy only of silence and deep oblivion, and I leave it to the reader to detect for himself their mingled folly and blasphemy. He actually asserts that the perishable is not opposed to the imperishable, and that the privative prefix doesn't mark the absence of the bad, but that the word under investigation means the ousia itself!

How it is possible, then, to assign one's gratuities to the non-subsistent, let this man, who claims to be using words and phrases in their natural force, explain to the followers of his error. I would not, however, have mentioned this at all, if it had not placed a necessity upon me of proving our author's weakness both in thought and expression. As for all the passages from the inspired writings which he drags in, though quite unconnected with his object, formulating thereby a difference of immortality in angels and in men, I do not know what he has in his eye, or what he hopes to prove by them, and I pass them by. The immortal, as long as it is immortal, admits of no degrees of more and less arising from comparison. For if the one member of the comparison is, by the force of contrast, to suffer a diminution or privation as regards its immortality, it must needs be that such a member is not to be called immortal at all; for how can that be called absolutely immortal in which mortality is detected by this juxtaposition and comparison? And to think of that fine hair-splitting of his, in not allowing the idea of privation to be unvarying and general, but in asserting, on the contrary, that while separation from good things is privation, the absence of bad things is not to be marked by that term! If he is to get his way here, he will take the truth from the Apostle's words, which say that He only has immortality 1 Timothy 6:16, which He gives to others. What this newly-imported dictum of his has to do with his preceding argument, neither we nor any one else among reflecting people are able to understand. Yet because we have not the mental strength to take in these scientific subtleties, he calls us unscientific both in our judgment as to objects, and in our use of terms; those are his very words. But all this, as having no power to shake the truth, I pass over without further notice; and also how he misrepresents the view we have expounded of the imperishable, and of the unembodied, namely, that of these terms the latter signifies the undimensional, where the threefold extension belonging to all bodies is not to be found, and the former signifies that which is not receptive of destruction: and also how he says, that we do not think it right to let the shape of these words be lost by extending them to ideas inapplicable to them, or to imagine that each of them is indicative of something not present or not accruing; but rather we think they are indicative of the actual essence; all this I deem worthy only of silence and deep oblivion, and leave to the reader to detect for himself their mingled folly and blasphemy. He actually asserts that the perishable is not opposed to the imperishable, and that the privative sign does not mark the absence of the bad, but that the word which is the subject of our inquiry means the essence itself!

Well, if this creator of an empty system doesn't consider the term imperishable or indestructible to be privative of destruction, then it necessarily follows that this word form indicates the exact opposite of the privation of destruction. That is, if indestructibility is not the negation of destruction, it must be the assertion of something contradictory to itself, because it is the very nature of opposites that when you remove one, you allow the other to take its place. But as for the tedious task he forces upon us of proving that the Deity cannot experience death—as if anyone held the opposite view—we leave that aside. For we hold that in the case of opposites, it makes no difference whether we say that something is A, or that it is not the opposite of A. For instance, in the present discussion, when we have said that God is Life, we implicitly rule out by this assertion any thought of death in connection with Him, even though we don't say this explicitly. And when we assert that He cannot experience death, we at the same time show Him to be Life.

Well, if the term imperishable or indestructible is not considered by this maker of an empty system to be privative of destruction, then by a stern necessity it must follow that this shape given to the word indicates the very reverse (of the privation of destruction). If, that is, indestructibility is not the negation of destruction, it must be the assertion of something incongruous with itself; for it is the very nature of opposites that, when you take away the one, you admit the other to come in in its place. But as for the bitter task which he necessitates of proving that the Deity is unreceptive of death, as if there existed any one who held the contrary opinion, we leave it to take care of itself. For we hold that in the case of opposites, it makes no difference at all whether we say that something is A, or that it is not the opposite of A; for instance, in the present discussion, when we have said that God is Life, we implicitly forbid by this assertion the thought of death in connection with Him, even though we do not express this in speech; and when we assert that He is unreceptive of death, we in the same breath show Him to be Life.

But I do not see, he objects, how God can be above His own works simply by virtue of things that do not belong to Him. And based on this clever argument, he calls it a union of folly and profanity that our great Basil has dared to use such terms. But I would advise him not to indulge too freely in mockery against those who use these terms, or he might unconsciously be heaping insults on himself at the same time. For I think that he himself would not deny that the very greatness of the Divine Nature is recognized precisely in this: in the absence of any participation in those things that the lower natures are shown to possess. For if God were involved in any of these characteristics, He would not possess His superiority, but would be completely identified with any individual among the beings who share that characteristic. But if He is above such things precisely because He does not possess them, then He also stands above those who do possess them—just as we say that the Sinless is superior to those in sin. The fact of being removed from evil is evidence of abounding in the best. But let him heap these insults on us to his heart's content. We will only remark, in passing, on a single one of the points mentioned under this heading, and will then return to the discussion of the main question.

But I do not see, he rejoins, how God can be above His own works simply by virtue of such things as do not belong to Him. And on the strength of this clever sally he calls it a union of folly and profanity, that our great Basil has ventured on such terms. But I would counsel him not to indulge his ribaldry too freely against those who use these terms, lest he should be unconsciously at the same moment heaping insults on himself. For I think that he himself would not gainsay that the very grandeur of the Divine Nature is recognized in this, viz. in the absence of all participation in those things which the lower natures are shown to possess. For if God were involved in any of these peculiarities, He would not possess His superiority, but would be quite identified with any single individual among the beings who share that peculiarity. But if He is above such things, by reason, in fact, of His not possessing them, then He stands also above those who do possess them; just as we say that the Sinless is superior to those in sin. The fact of being removed from evil is an evidence of abounding in the best. But let him heap these insults on us to his heart's content. We will only remark, in passing, on a single one of the points mentioned under this head, and will then return to the discussion of the main question.

He declares that God surpasses mortal beings as immortal, destructible beings as indestructible, and generated beings as ungenerate, all to the same degree. Isn't it clear to everyone what this blasphemy from this fighter against God is trying to prove? Or must we expose this profanity through careful argument? Everyone knows the principle that things separated by the same distance from something else are equal to one another. So if the destructible and the generated are surpassed by the same amount by the Deity, and if our Lord is generated, then Eunomius must draw the blasphemous conclusion that follows from these premises. It's clear he treats generation as the same thing as destruction and death, just as in his earlier arguments he declares that the ungenerate is the same thing as the indestructible. So if he views destruction and generation as being on the same level, and claims that the Deity is equally distant from both of them, and if our Lord is generated, let no one ask us to spell out the logical conclusion—let him draw it himself. This is the result if it's true, as he says, that God is equally removed from both the generated and the destructible. But he goes on to say that we cannot call Him indestructible and immortal based on any absence of death and destruction. Let those who are easily led and follow whatever each new teacher tells them believe this, and let them declare that destruction and death do belong to God in order to make it possible to call Him immortal and indestructible! If these negative terms, as Eunomius says, don't indicate the absence of death and destruction, then his treatment of these terms most certainly proves that their opposites—things alien to immortality and indestructibility—are present in Him. Everything we can conceive of is either absent from something else or not absent: for example, light and darkness, life and death, health and disease, and so on. In all these cases, if someone asserts that one concept is absent, he necessarily demonstrates that the other is present. So if Eunomius denies that God can be called immortal because of the absence of death, he will clearly prove the presence of death in Him, and thus deny any immortality in the universal Deity. Perhaps someone will say we're being unfair to his words, since no one is mad enough to claim that God is not immortal. But when no one knows what certain people secretly think, we have to judge those hidden thoughts by their words.

He declares that God surpasses mortal beings as immortal, destructible beings as indestructible, generated beings as ungenerate, just in the same degree. Is it not, then, plain to all what this blasphemy of a fighter against God would prove? Or must we by verbal demonstration unveil the profanity? Well, who does not know the axiom, that things which are distanced to the same amount (by something else) are level with one another? If, then, the destructible and the generated are surpassed in the same degree by the Deity, and if our Lord is generated, it will be for Eunomius to draw the blasphemous conclusion resulting from these data. For it is clear that he regards generation as the same thing as destruction and death, just as in his previous discussions he declares the ungenerate to be the same thing as the indestructible. If, then, he looks upon destruction and generation as upon the same level, and asserts that the Deity is equally removed from both of them, and if our Lord is generated, let no one demand from ourselves that we should apply the logical conclusion, but let him draw it for himself; if indeed it is true, as he says, that from the generated and from the destructible God is equally removed. But, he proceeds, it is not allowable for us to call Him indestructible and immortal by virtue of any absence of death and destruction. Let those who are led by the nose, and turn in any direction that each successive teacher pleases, believe this, and let them declare that destruction and death do belong to God, to make it possible for Him to be called immortal and indestructible! For if these terms of privation, as Eunomius says, do not indicate the absence of death and destruction, then the presence in Him of the things opposite to, and estranged from, these is most certainly proved by this treatment of terms. Each one among conceivable things is either absent from something else, or it is not absent: for instance, light, darkness; life, death; health, disease, and so on. In all these cases, if one asserts that the one conception is absent, he will necessarily demonstrate that the other is present. If, then, Eunomius denies that God can be called immortal by reason of the absence of death, he will plainly prove the presence of death in Him, and so deny any immortality in the case of the universal Deity. But perhaps some one will say that we fix unfairly on his words; for that no one is so mad as to affirm that God is not immortal. But then, when none of mankind possess any knowledge of that which certain people secretly imagine, it is by their words that we have to make our guess about those secret things.

Therefore let us examine this statement of his again: God is not called immortal by virtue of the absence of death. How are we to accept this claim—that death is not absent from the Deity though He is called immortal? If he really commands us to think this way, Eunomius' God will certainly be mortal and subject to destruction, for one from whom death is not absent is not immortal in his ousia. But again, if these terms do not signify the absence of death or destruction, then either they are applied falsely to God overall, or they contain some different meaning within themselves. What this meaning is, our system-maker must explain to us. We, on the other hand—the people who according to Eunomius are unscientific in our judgment of things and in our use of terms—have been taught to call someone sound (for instance) not when strength is absent from him, but when disease is absent from him; and unmutilated not when he stays away from drinking-parties, but when he has no mutilation upon him. We name other qualities in the same way, based on the presence or absence of something: manly and unmanly, for instance; sleepy and sleepless; and all other such terms that custom approves.

Therefore let us again handle this dictum of his: God is not called immortal by virtue of the absence of death. How are we to accept this statement, that death is not absent from the Deity though He be called immortal? If he really commands us to think like this, Eunomius' God will be certainly mortal, and subject to destruction; for he from whom death is not absent is not in his essence immortal. But again; if these terms signify the absence neither of death nor of destruction, either they are applied falsely to the God overall, or else they comprise within themselves some different meaning. What this meaning is, our system-maker must explain to us. Whereas we, the people who according to Eunomius are unscientific in our judgment of objects and in our use of terms, have been taught to call sound (for instance), not the man from whom strength is absent, but the man from whom disease is absent; and unmutilated, not the man who keeps away from drinking-parties, but the man who has no mutilation upon him; and other qualities in the same way we name from the presence or the absence of something; manly, for instance, and unmanly; sleepy and sleepless; and all the other terms like that, which custom sanctions.

So let me return to this claim of his: God is not called immortal by virtue of the absence of death. How should we accept this statement—that death is not absent from the Deity even though He is called immortal? If he really commands us to think this way, Eunomius' God will certainly be mortal and subject to destruction. For one from whom death is not absent is not immortal in his ousia.

Still, I cannot see what profit there is in bothering to examine such nonsense. For someone like me, who has lived to gray hairs and whose eyes are fixed on truth alone, to take upon his lips the absurd and flippant utterances of a contentious opponent, risks bringing no small condemnation on himself. I will therefore pass over both those words and the adjoining passage—for instance, this: "Truth gives no evidence of any union of natures with God." Well, if these words had not been spoken, who ever was there (except yourself) who mentioned a double physis in the Deity at all? You, however, connect each idea of each name with the ousia of the Father, and deny that anything externally accrues to Him, centering every one of His names in that ousia. Again: "Neither does she write in the statute-book of our religion any idea that is external and fabricated by ourselves." Regarding these words again, I shall make clear that I have not quoted them to amuse the reader with their absurdity. Rather, I have done so to show with what a slender supply of arguments this man, after criticizing us for our lack of system, proceeds to take these audacious liberties with the name of Truth. What is he in reasoning, and what is he in speech, that he should revel in showing himself off before his hidebound readers, who applaud him as victorious over everybody by force of argument when he has brought these disjointed utterances of his dry bombastic jargon to an end? "Immortality," he says, "is the ousia itself." But what, then, do you assert to be the ousia of the Only-begotten? I ask you that: is it immortality, or is it not? For remember that in His ousia also the singleness admits, as you say, of no complexity of physis. If, then, Eunomius denies that immortality is the ousia of the Son, it is clear what he is aiming at. For it does not require an exceedingly penetrating understanding to discover what is the direct opposite to the immortal. Just as the logic of dichotomy exhibits the destructible instead of the indestructible, and the mutable instead of the immutable, so it exhibits the mortal instead of the immortal. What, therefore, will this setter forth of new doctrine do? What proper name will he give us for the ousia of the Only-begotten? Again I put this question to our author. He must either grant that it is immortality, or deny it. If, then, he will not agree that it is immortality, he must agree to the contradictory proposition: by denying the superior term he proves that it is death. If, on the other hand, he shrinks from anything so monstrous and names the ousia of the Only-begotten also as immortality, he must necessarily agree with us that there is consequently no difference whatever in ousia between them. If the physis of the Father and the physis of the Son are equally immortality, and if immortality does not divide itself by any manner of difference, then it is confessed by our foes themselves that on the score of ousia no manner of difference is discoverable between the Father and the Son.

Still I cannot see what profit there is in deigning to examine such nonsense. For a man like myself, who has lived to gray hairs, and whose eyes are fixed on truth alone, to take upon his lips the absurd and flippant utterances of a contentious foe, incurs no slight danger of bringing condemnation on himself. I will therefore pass over both those words and the adjoining passage; this, for instance, Truth gives no evidence of any union of natures with God. Well, if these words had not been spoken, who ever was there (except yourself) who mentioned a double nature in the Deity at all? You, however, unite each idea of each name with the essence of the Father, and deny that anything externally accrues to Him, centering every one of His names in that essence. Again, Neither does she write in the statute-book of our religion any idea that is external and fabricated by ourselves. With regard to these words again I shall deprecate the idea that I have quoted them with a view of amusing the reader with their absurdity; rather I have done so with a view to show with what a slender equipment of arguments this man, after rating us for our want of system, advances to take these audacious liberties with the name of Truth. What is he in reasoning, and what is he in speech, that he should thus revel in showing himself off before his hidebound readers, who applaud him as victorious over everybody by force of argument when he has brought these disjointed utterances of his dry bombastic jargon to an end. Immortality, he says, is the essence itself. But what, then, do you assert to be the essence of the Only-begotten? I ask you that: is it immortality, or is it not? For remember that in His essence also the singleness admits, as you say, of no complexity of nature. If, then Eunomius denies that immortality is the essence of the Son, it is clear what he is aiming at; for it does not require an exceedingly penetrating understanding to discover what is the direct opposite to the immortal. Just as the logic of dichotomy exhibits the destructible instead of the indestructible, and the mutable instead of the immutable, so it exhibits the mortal instead of the immortal. What, therefore, will this setter forth of new doctrine do? What proper name will he give us for the essence of the Only-begotten? Again I put this question to our author. He must either grant that it is immortality, or deny it. If, then, he will not assent to its being immortality, he must assent to the contradictory proposition; by negativing the superior term he proves that it is death. If, on the other hand, he shrinks from anything so monstrous, and names the essence of the Only-begotten also as immortality, he must perforce agree with us that there is in consequence no difference whatever, as to essence, between them. If the nature of the Father and the nature of the Son are equally immortality, and if immortality does not divide itself by any manner of difference, then it is confessed by our foes themselves, that on the score of essence no manner of difference is discoverable between the Father and the Son.

But it is time now to expose the angry accusation he brings against us at the end of his treatise, claiming that we say the Father comes from what is absolutely non-existent. He steals an expression from its context, tearing it away as if from its surrounding body into naked isolation, and tries to criticize it by attacking the word, or rather covering it with the foam of his maddened teeth. I will therefore first give the meaning of the passage in which our teacher explained this point to us, then I will quote it word for word. By doing this, the man who intrudes upon the explanatory work of orthodox writers only to undermine the truth itself will be revealed in his true colors. Our teacher, in introducing us in his own treatise to the true meaning of ungenerate, suggested a way to arrive at real knowledge of the disputed term somewhat as follows, pointing out at the same time that it had a meaning very far removed from any idea of ousia (essence). He says that the Evangelist, in beginning our Lord's genealogy according to the flesh from Joseph and then going back through the generations one after another, and then ending the genealogy with Adam, and because there was no earthly father before this first-formed creature, saying that he was the son of God, makes it clear to every reader's understanding with regard to the Deity that He from whom Adam came does not Himself have His existence from another, in the same way as the human lives just described. When, having passed through the whole genealogy, we finally grasp the thought of the Deity, we perceive at the same moment the First Cause of it all. But if any such cause is found depending on something else, then it is not a first cause. Therefore, if God is the First Cause of the universe, there will be nothing whatever beyond this cause of all things. Such was our teacher's explanation of the meaning of ungenerate, and so that our testimony about it may not go beyond the exact truth, I will quote the passage.

But it is time now to expose that angry accusation which he brings against us at the close of his treatise, saying that we affirm the Father to be from what is absolutely non-existent. Stealing an expression from its context, from which he drags it, as from its surrounding body, into a naked isolation, he tries to carp at it by worrying the word, or rather covering it with the slaver of his maddened teeth. I will therefore first give the meaning of the passage in which our Master explained this point to us; then I will quote it word for word: by so doing the man who intrudes upon the expository work of orthodox writers, only to undermine the truth itself, will be revealed in his true colors. Our Master, in introducing us in his own treatise to the true meaning of ungenerate, suggested a way to arrive at a real knowledge of the term in dispute somewhat as follows, pointing out at the same time that it had a meaning very far removed from any idea of essence. He says that the Evangelist, in beginning our Lord's lineage according to the flesh from Joseph, and then going back to the generation continually preceding, and then ending the genealogy in Adam, and, because there was no earthly father anterior to this first-formed creature, saying that he was the son of God, makes it obvious to every reader's intelligence with regard to the Deity, that He, from Whom Adam was, has not Himself His subsistence from another, after the likeness of the human lives just given. When, having passed through the whole of it, we at last grasp the thought of the Deity, we perceive at the same moment the First Cause of it all. But if any such cause be found dependent on something else, then it is not a first cause. Therefore, if God is the First Cause of the Universe, there will be nothing whatever transcending this cause of all things. Such was our Master's exposition of the meaning of ungenerate; and in order that our testimony about it may not go beyond the exact truth, I will quote the passage.

The evangelist Luke, when giving the genealogy according to the flesh of our God and Savior Jesus Christ, and moving from the last to the first, begins with Joseph, saying that he was 'the son of Heli, who was the son of Matthat,' and continues ascending until his list reaches Adam. But when he comes to the end and says that Seth 'was the son of Adam, who was the son of God,' he stops there. Since he has said that Adam was the son of God, we will ask these men, 'But God, whose son is He?' Isn't it obvious to everyone's understanding that God is no one's son? But to be no one's son is to be without a cause, clearly; and to be without a cause is to be ungenerate. Now in the case of human beings, being someone's son is not the ousia. Likewise, in the case of the Deity who rules the world, it is not possible to say that being ungenerate is the ousia.

The evangelist Luke, when giving the genealogy according to the flesh of our God and Saviour Jesus Christ, and stepping up from the last to the first, begins with Joseph, saying that he was 'the son of Heli, which was the son of Matthat,' and so by ascending brings his enumeration up to Adam; but when he has come to the top and said, that Seth 'was the son of Adam, which was the son of God,' then he stops this process. As, then, he has said that Adam was the son of God, we will ask these men, 'But God, who is He the son of?' Is it not obvious to every one's intelligence that God is the son of no one? But to be the son of no one is to be without a cause, plainly; and to be without a cause is to be ungenerate. Now in the case of men, the being son of somebody is not the essence; no more, in the case of the Deity Who rules the world, is it possible to say that the being ungenerate is the essence.

With what eyes will you now dare to look at your guide? I am speaking to you, O flock of perishing souls! How can you still turn to listen to this man who has erected such a monument to his shamelessness in argument? Are you not ashamed now, if not before, to take the hand of a man like this to lead you to the truth? Do you not regard it as a sign of his doctrinal madness that he so shamelessly stands against the truth contained in Scripture? Is this the way to champion the truth of doctrine—namely, to accuse Basil of deriving the God over all from that which has absolutely no existence? Should I tell you how he phrases it? Should I transcribe the very words of his shamelessness? I pass over their insolence; I do not blame their invective, for I do not censure someone whose breath smells bad because it smells bad, or someone who has bodily mutilation because he is mutilated. Such things are the misfortunes of nature; they escape blame from those who can reflect. This strength of vituperation, then, is infirmity in reasoning; it is an affliction of a soul whose powers of sound argument are damaged. No word from me, then, about his invectives. But as to that syllogism, with its supposedly strong and irrefutable structure, in whose conclusion, to achieve his beloved object, he arrives at this accusation against us, I will write it out in its own precise words. We will allow him to say that the Son exists by participation in the self-existent; but instead of this, he has unconsciously affirmed that the God over all comes from absolute nonentity. For if the idea of the absence of everything amounts to that of absolute nonentity, and the transposition of equivalents is perfectly legitimate, then the man who says that God comes from nothing says that He comes from nonentity. To which of these statements should we first direct our attention? Should we criticize his opinion about the Son existing by participation in the Deity, and his bespattering with the filth of his tongue those who will not agree with it; or should we examine the sophism so coldly constructed from the stuff of dreams? However, everyone who possesses a spark of practical wisdom is aware that it is only poets and makers of mythology who produce sons by participation from the Divine Being. Those who string together the myths in their poems fabricate a Dionysus, or a Hercules, or a Minos, and such figures, out of the combination of the superhuman with human bodies; and they exalt such personages above the rest of humanity, representing them as more highly esteemed because of their participation in a superior nature. Therefore, with regard to this opinion of his, carrying as it does within itself the evidence of its own folly and profanity, it is best to be silent; and to repeat instead that irrefutable syllogism of his, in order that every poor ignoramus on our side may understand what and how many are the advantages which those who are not trained in his technical methods are deprived of. He says, If the idea of the absence of everything amounts to that of absolute nonentity, and the transposition of equivalents is perfectly legitimate, then the man who says that God comes from nothing says that He comes from nonentity. He brandishes this Aristotelian weapon over us, but who has yet conceded to him that to say that anyone has no father amounts to saying that he has been generated from absolute nonentity? He who enumerates those persons whose line is recorded in Scripture is plainly thinking of a father preceding each person mentioned. For what relation is Heli to Joseph? What relation is Matthat to Heli? And what relation is Adam to Seth? Is it not plain to a mere child that this catalogue of names is a list of fathers? For if Seth is the son of Adam, Adam must be the father of one thus born from him; and so tell me, who is the father of the Deity Who is over all? Come, answer this question, open your lips and speak, exert all your skill in expression to meet such an inquiry. Can you discover any expression that will escape the grasp of your own syllogism? Who is the father of the Ungenerate? Can you say? If you can, then He is not ungenerate. Pressed thus, you will say what necessity indeed compels you to say—No one is. Well, my dear sir, do you not yet find the weak seams of your sophism giving way? Do you not perceive that you have drooled upon your own lap? What does our great Basil say? That the Ungenerate One is from no father. For the conclusion to be drawn from the mention of fathers in the preceding genealogy permits the word father, even in the silence of the evangelist, to be added to this confession of faith. Whereas you have transformed no one into nothing at all, and again nothing at all into absolute nonentity, thereby concocting that fallacious syllogism of yours. Accordingly this clever result of professional shrewdness shall be turned against yourself. I ask, Who is the father of the Ungenerate One? No one, you will be obliged to answer; for the Ungenerate One cannot have a father. Then, if no one is the father of the Ungenerate, and you have changed no one into nothing at all, and nothing at all is, according to your argument, the same as absolute nonentity, and the transposition of equivalents is, as you say, perfectly legitimate, then the man (that is, you) who says that no one is the father of the Ungenerate One says that the Deity Who is over all comes from absolute nonentity!

With what eyes will you now dare to gaze upon your guide? I speak to you, O flock of perishing souls! How can you still turn to listen to this man who has reared such a monument as this of his shamelessness in argument? Are ye not ashamed now, at least, if not before, to take the hand of a man like this to lead you to the truth? Do ye not regard it as a sign of his madness as to doctrine, that he thus shamelessly stands out against the truth contained in Scripture? Is this the way to play the champion of the truth of doctrine — namely, to accuse Basil of deriving the God over all from that which has absolutely no existence? Am I to tell the way he phrases it? Am I to transcribe the very words of his shamelessness? I let the insolence of them pass; I do not blame their invective, for I do not censure one whose breath is of bad odour, because it is of bad odour; or one who has bodily mutilation, because he is mutilated. Things such as that are the misfortunes of nature; they escape blame from those who can reflect. This strength of vituperation, then, is infirmity in reasoning; it is an affliction of a soul whose powers of sound argument are marred. No word from me, then, about his invectives. But as to that syllogism, with its stout irrefragable folds, in whose conclusion, to effect his darling object, he arrives at this accusation against us, I will write it out in its own precise words. We will allow him to say that the Son exists by participation in the self-existent; but (instead of this), he has unconsciously affirmed that the God over all comes from absolute nonentity. For if the idea of the absence of everything amounts to that of absolute nonentity, and the transposition of equivalents is perfectly legitimate, then the man who says that God comes from nothing says that He comes from nonentity. To which of these statements shall we first direct our attention? Shall we criticize his opinion about the Son existing by participation in the Deity, and his bespattering those who will not acquiesce in it with the foulness of his tongue; or shall we examine the sophism so frigidly constructed from the stuff of dreams? However, every one who possesses a spark of practical sagacity is not unaware that it is only poets and moulders of mythology who father sons by participation upon the Divine Being. Those, that is, who string together the myths in their poems, fabricate a Dionysus, or a Hercules, or a Minos, and such-like, out of the combination of the superhuman with human bodies; and they exalt such personages above the rest of mankind, representing them as of greater estimation because of their participation in a superior nature. Therefore, with regard to this opinion of his, carrying as it does within itself the evidence of its own folly and profanity, it is best to be silent; and to repeat instead that irrefragable syllogism of his, in order that every poor ignoramus on our side may understand what and how many are the advantages which those who are not trained in his technical methods are deprived of. He says, If the idea of the absence of everything amounts to that of absolute nonentity, and the transposition of equivalents is perfectly legitimate, then the man who says that God comes from nothing, says that He comes from nonentity. He brandishes over us this Aristotelian weapon, but who has yet conceded to him, that to say that any one has no father amounts to saying that he has been generated from absolute nonentity? He who enumerates those persons whose line is recorded in Scripture is plainly thinking of a father preceding each person mentioned. For what relation is Heli to Joseph? What relation is Matthat to Heli? And what relation is Adam to Seth? Is it not plain to a mere child that this catalogue of names is a list of fathers? For if Seth is the son of Adam, Adam must be the father of one thus born from him; and so tell me, who is the father of the Deity Who is over all? Come, answer this question, open your lips and speak, exert all your skill in expression to meet such an inquiry. Can you discover any expression that will elude the grasp of your own syllogism? Who is the father of the Ungenerate? Can you say? If you can, then He is not ungenerate. Pressed thus, you will say, what indeed necessity compels you to say — No one is. Well, my dear sir, do you not yet find the weak seams of your sophism giving way? Do you not perceive that you have slavered upon your own lap? What says our great Basil? That the Ungenerate One is from no father. For the conclusion to be drawn from the mention of fathers in the preceding genealogy permits the word father, even in the silence of the evangelist, to be added to this confession of faith. Whereas, you have transformed no one into nothing at all, and again nothing at all into absolute nonentity, thereby concocting that fallacious syllogism of yours. Accordingly this clever result of professional shrewdness shall be turned against yourself. I ask, Who is the father of the Ungenerate One? No one, you will be obliged to answer; for the Ungenerate One cannot have a father. Then, if no one is the father of the Ungenerate, and you have changed no one into nothing at all, and nothing at all is, according to your argument, the same as absolute nonentity, and the transposition of equivalents is, as you say, perfectly legitimate, then the man ( i.e. you) who says that no one is the father of the Ungenerate One, says that the Deity Who is over all comes from absolute nonentity!

Such, to use your own words, is the evil—as one might expect—not of valuing the reputation for being clever before one actually is clever (for perhaps this does not amount to a very great misfortune), but of not knowing oneself, and how great the distance is between the soaring Basil and a grovelling reptile. For if those eyes of his, with their divine insight, still looked upon this world, if he still swept over mankind now living on the wings of his wisdom, he would have shown you with the swooping rush of his words how frail is that native shell of folly in which you are enclosed, how great is the one whom you oppose with your errors, while with insults and accusations hurled at him you are hunting for a reputation among decrepit and despicable creatures. Still, you need not give up all hope of feeling that great man's talons. For this work of ours, while it will be a great thing for it to be judged even a fraction of one such talon when compared with his, has, as regards yours, ability enough to have broken through the outer crust of your heresy and to have exposed the deformity that hides within.

Such, to use your own words, is the evil, as one might expect, not indeed of valuing the character for being clever before one is really such (for perhaps this does not amount to a very great misfortune), but of not knowing oneself, and how great the distance is between the soaring Basil and a grovelling reptile. For if those eyes of his, with their divine penetration, still looked on this world, if he still swept over mankind now living on the pinions of his wisdom, he would have shown you with the swooping rush of his words, how frail is that native shell of folly in which you are encased, how great is he whom you oppose with your errors, while, with insults and invectives hurled at him, you are hunting for a reputation among decrepit and despicable creatures. Still you need not give up all hope of feeling that great man's talons. For this work of ours, while, as compared with his, it will be a great thing for it to be judged the fraction of one such talon, has, as regards yours, ability enough to have broken asunder the outside crust of your heresy, and to have detected the deformity that hides within.

But let us see what is the next addition that follows upon this profanity, an addition which is in fact the key of their defense of their doctrine. For those who would degrade the majesty of the glory of the Only-begotten to slavish and groveling conceptions think that they find the strongest proof of their assertions in the words of the Lord to Mary, which He uttered after His resurrection and before His ascension into heaven, saying, "Touch Me not, for I am not yet ascended to My Father: but go to My brethren and say unto them, I ascend unto My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God." The orthodox interpretation of these words, the sense in which we have been accustomed to believe that they were spoken to Mary, is I think clear to all who have received the faith in truth. Still, the discussion of this point shall be given by us in its proper place. But meanwhile, it is worth asking those who use against us such phrases as ascending, being seen, being recognized by touch, and moreover being associated with men by brotherhood, whether they consider these things to be proper to the Divine or to the Human nature. For if they see in the Godhead the capacity of being seen and touched, of being sustained by food and drink, kinship and brotherhood with men, and all the attributes of corporeal nature, then let them ascribe to the Only-begotten God both these and whatever else they will, such as movement and local change, which are peculiar to things limited by a body. But if He through Mary is speaking with His brethren, and if the Only-begotten has no brethren—for how, if He had brethren, could the property of being Only-begotten be preserved?—and if the same Person who said "God is a Spirit" says to His disciples "Handle Me," that He may show that while the Human nature is capable of being handled the Divinity is intangible, and if He who says "I go" indicates local change, while He who contains all things, in whom, as the Apostle says, all things were created and in whom all things consist, has nothing in existent things external to Himself to which removal could take place by any kind of motion—for motion cannot otherwise happen than by that which is removed leaving the place in which it is and occupying another place instead, while that which extends through all, and is in all, and controls all, and is confined by no existent thing, has no place to which to pass, since nothing is void of the Divine fullness—how can these men abandon the belief that such expressions arise from that which is visible, and apply them to that nature which is Divine and which surpasses all understanding, when the Apostle has in his speech to the Athenians plainly forbidden us to imagine any such thing of God, since the Divine power is not discoverable by touch but by intelligent contemplation and faith? Or, again, whom does He who ate before the eyes of His disciples and promised to go before them into Galilee and there be seen by them—whom does He reveal Himself to be who should so appear to them? God, whom no man has seen or can see? Or the bodily image, that is, the form of a servant in which God was? If then what has been said plainly proves that the meaning of the phrases in question refers to that which is visible, expressing shape and capable of motion, akin to the nature of His disciples, and none of these properties is discernible in Him who is invisible, incorporeal, intangible, and formless, how do they come to degrade the very Only-begotten God, who was in the beginning and is in the Father, to a level with Peter, Andrew, John, and the rest of the Apostles, by calling them the brethren and fellow-servants of the Only-begotten? And yet all their efforts are directed to this aim, to show that in majesty of nature there is as great a distance between the Father and the dignity, power, and ousia of the Only-begotten as there is between the Only-begotten and humanity. And they press this saying into the support of this meaning, treating the name of the God and Father as being of common significance in respect of the Lord and of His disciples, with the view that no difference in dignity of nature is conceived while He is recognized as God and Father both of Him and of them in a precisely similar manner.

But let us see what is the next addition that follows upon this profanity, an addition which is in fact the key of their defense of their doctrine. For those who would degrade the majesty of the glory of the Only-begotten to slavish and grovelling conceptions think that they find the strongest proof of their assertions in the words of the Lord to Mary, which He uttered after His resurrection, and before His ascension into heaven, saying, Touch Me not, for I am not yet ascended to My Father: but go to My brethren and say unto them, I ascend unto My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God. The orthodox interpretation of these words, the sense in which we have been accustomed to believe that they were spoken to Mary, is I think manifest to all who have received the faith in truth. Still the discussion of this point shall be given by us in its proper place; but meantime it is worth while to inquire from those who allege against us such phrases as ascending, being seen, being recognized by touch, and moreover being associated with men by brotherhood, whether they consider them to be proper to the Divine or to the Human Nature. For if they see in the Godhead the capacity of being seen and touched, of being supported by meat and drink, kinship and brotherhood with men, and all the attributes of corporeal nature, then let them predicate of the Only-begotten God both these and whatsoever else they will, as motive energy and local change, which are peculiar to things circumscribed by a body. But if He by Mary is discoursing with His brethren, and if the Only-begotten has no brethren, (for how, if He had brethren, could the property of being Only-begotten be preserved?) and if the same Person Who said, God is a Spirit, says to His disciples, Handle Me Luke 24:39, that He may show that while the Human Nature is capable of being handled the Divinity is intangible, and if He Who says, I go, indicates local change, while He who contains all things, in Whom, as the Apostle says, all things were created, and in Whom all things consist Colossians 1:16-17, has nothing in existent things external to Himself to which removal could take place by any kind of motion, (for motion cannot otherwise be effected than by that which is removed leaving the place in which it is, and occupying another place instead, while that which extends through all, and is in all, and controls all, and is confined by no existent thing, has no place to which to pass, inasmuch as nothing is void of the Divine fullness,) how can these men abandon the belief that such expressions arise from that which is apparent, and apply them to that Nature which is Divine and which surpasses all understanding, when the Apostle has in his speech to the Athenians plainly forbidden us to imagine any such thing of God, inasmuch as the Divine power is not discoverable by touch, but by intelligent contemplation and faith? Or, again, whom does He Who did eat before the eyes of His disciples, and promised to go before them into Galilee and there be seen of them — whom does He reveal Him to be Who should so appear to them? God, Whom no man has seen or can see? Or the bodily image, that is, the form of a servant in which God was? If then what has been said plainly proves that the meaning of the phrases alleged refers to that which is visible, expressing shape, and capable of motion, akin to the nature of His disciples, and none of these properties is discernible in Him Who is invisible, incorporeal, intangible, and formless, how do they come to degrade the very Only-begotten God, Who was in the beginning, and is in the Father, to a level with Peter, Andrew, John, and the rest of the Apostles, by calling them the brethren and fellow-servants of the Only-begotten? And yet all their exertions are directed to this aim, to show that in majesty of nature there is as great a distance between the Father and the dignity, power, and essence of the Only-begotten, as there is between the Only-begotten and humanity. And they press this saying into the support of this meaning, treating the name of the God and Father as being of common significance in respect of the Lord and of His disciples, in the view that no difference in dignity of nature is conceived while He is recognized as God and Father both of Him and of them in a precisely similar manner.

The way they logically support their profane view is as follows: either the relational term used expresses a shared essence between the disciples and the Father, or we must not use this phrase to bring even the Lord into communion with the Father's nature. And just as calling the God over all "their God" implies that the disciples are His servants, so by the same reasoning they claim that these words acknowledge the Son to be God's servant as well. Now, one can learn from the purpose for which they were spoken that the words addressed to Mary do not apply to the Godhead of the Only-begotten. For it was He who humbled Himself to the level of human weakness who spoke these words. Those who search out the depths of the sacred mystery by the Spirit may fully understand the meaning of what He then said. But we will set down briefly as much as is within our reach, following the guidance of the Fathers. He who is by nature Father of existing things, from whom all things originate, has been proclaimed as one by the Apostle's sublime statement. For there is one God, he says, and Father, from whom are all things. Therefore human nature did not enter creation from any other source, nor grow spontaneously in the parents of the race, but it too had none other than the Father of all as the author of its constitution. The name of Godhead itself, whether it indicates the authority of oversight or foresight, implies a certain relation to humanity. For He who gave all things that exist the power to be is the God and overseer of what He Himself has made. But since, through the schemes of him who sowed in us the weeds of disobedience, our nature no longer preserved within itself the image of the Father, but was transformed into the corrupt likeness of sin, for this reason it was grafted by similarity of will into the evil family of the father of sin. As a result, the good and true God and Father was no longer the God and Father of the one who had been thus outlawed by his own depravity. Instead of Him who was by nature God, those were honored who, as the Apostle says, by nature were not gods, and in place of the Father, he was considered father who is falsely so called, as the prophet Jeremiah says in his obscure saying, The partridge called, she gathered together what she did not hatch. Since, then, this was the essence of our disaster—that humanity was exiled from the good Father and was banished from Divine oversight and care—for this reason He who is the Shepherd of the entire rational creation left His sinless and heavenly flock in the heights of heaven and, moved by love, went after the sheep that had gone astray, that is, our human nature. For human nature, which alone according to the parable's imagery wandered away through vice from the hundred rational beings, is, when compared with the whole, only an insignificant and tiny part. Since then it was impossible for our life, which had been estranged from God, to return by itself to the high and heavenly place, for this reason, as the Apostle says, He who knew no sin is made sin for us, and frees us from the curse by taking our curse upon Himself. Having taken up and, in the Apostle's language, slain in Himself the enmity that through sin had come between us and God (for sin was the enmity), and having become what we were, He through Himself again united humanity to God. For having through purity brought into closest relationship with the Father that new man of our nature who is created after God, in whom dwelt all the fullness of the Godhead bodily, He drew with Him into the same grace all the nature that shares His body and is related to Him. And He proclaims this good news through the woman, not only to those disciples but also to all who up to the present day become disciples of the Word—the news that man is no longer outlawed or cast out of God's kingdom, but is once more a son, once more in the position assigned to him by his God, since along with the firstfruits of humanity the whole lump is also made holy. For behold, He says, I and the children whom God has given Me. He who for our sakes shared in flesh and blood has recovered you and brought you back to the place from which you strayed away, becoming mere flesh and blood through sin. And so He from whom we were formerly alienated by our revolt has become our Father and our God. Accordingly, in the passage quoted above, the Lord brings the good news of this benefit. These words are not proof of the Son's degradation, but the good news of our reconciliation to God. For what has taken place in Christ's humanity is a common blessing given to mankind in general. For just as when we see in Him the weight of the body, which naturally falls toward earth, ascending through the air into the heavens, we believe according to the Apostle's words that we also will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, so too when we hear that the true God and Father has become the God and Father of our firstfruits, we no longer doubt that this same God has become our God and Father as well, since we have learned that we will come to the same place where Christ has entered for us as our forerunner. The fact that this grace was revealed through a woman also fits with the interpretation we have given. For since, as the Apostle tells us, the woman, being deceived, was in the transgression, and was foremost through her disobedience in the revolt from God, for this reason she is the first witness of the resurrection, so that she might make up for by her faith in the resurrection the ruin caused by her disobedience. Just as by making herself at the beginning a minister and advocate to her husband of the serpent's advice, she brought into human life the beginning of evil and its consequences, so by ministering to His disciples the words of Him who slew the rebel dragon, she might become for men the guide to faith, through which the first proclamation of death is rightly annulled. It is likely that more diligent students may discover a more valuable explanation of the text. But even if none is found, I think every devout reader will agree that our opponents' explanation is worthless when compared with the one we have presented. For theirs has been constructed solely to destroy the glory of the Only-begotten and nothing more, but ours encompasses the purpose of the plan concerning man. For it has been shown that it was not the intangible, unchangeable, and invisible God, but the moving, visible, and tangible nature that is proper to humanity that gave the command to Mary to minister the word to His disciples.

And the mode in which they logically maintain their profanity is as follows — that either by the relative term employed there is expressed community of essence also between the disciples and the Father, or else we must not by this phrase bring even the Lord into communion in the Father's Nature, and that, even as the fact that the God over all is named as their God implies that the disciples are His servants so by parity of reasoning, it is acknowledged, by the words in question, that the Son also is the servant of God. Now that the words addressed to Mary are not applicable to the Godhead of the Only-begotten, one may learn from the intention with which they were uttered. For He Who humbled Himself to a level with human littleness, He it is Who spoke the words. And what is the meaning of what He then uttered, they may know in all its fullness who by the Spirit search out the depths of the sacred mystery. But as much as comes within our compass we will set down in few words, following the guidance of the Fathers. He Who is by nature Father of existent things, from Whom all things have their birth, has been proclaimed as one, by the sublime utterance of the Apostle. For there is one God, he says, and Father, of Whom are all things 1 Corinthians 8:6. Accordingly human nature did not enter into the creation from any other source, nor grow spontaneously in the parents of the race, but it too had for the author of its own constitution none other than the Father of all. And the name of Godhead itself, whether it indicates the authority of oversight or of foresight, imports a certain relation to humanity. For He Who bestowed on all things that are, the power of being, is the God and overseer of what He has Himself produced. But since, by the wiles of him that sowed in us the tares of disobedience, our nature no longer preserved in itself the impress of the Father's image, but was transformed into the foul likeness of sin, for this cause it was engrafted by virtue of similarity of will into the evil family of the father of sin: so that the good and true God and Father was no longer the God and Father of him who had been thus outlawed by his own depravity, but instead of Him Who was by Nature God, those were honoured who, as the Apostle says, by nature were no Gods Galatians 4:8, and in the place of the Father, he was deemed father who is falsely so called, as the prophet Jeremiah says in his dark saying, The partridge called, she gathered together what she hatched not. Since, then, this was the sum of our calamity, that humanity was exiled from the good Father, and was banished from the Divine oversight and care, for this cause He Who is the Shepherd of the whole rational creation, left in the heights of heaven His unsinning and supramundane flock, and, moved by love, went after the sheep which had gone astray, even our human nature. For human nature, which alone, according to the similitude in the parable, through vice roamed away from the hundred of rational beings, is, if it be compared with the whole, but an insignificant and infinitesimal part. Since then it was impossible that our life, which had been estranged from God, should of itself return to the high and heavenly place, for this cause, as says the Apostle, He Who knew no sin is made sin for us, and frees us from the curse by taking on Him our curse as His own, and having taken up, and, in the language of the Apostle, slain in Himself the enmity which by means of sin had come between us and God –(in fact sin was the enmity) — and having become what we were, He through Himself again united humanity to God. For having by purity brought into closest relationship with the Father of our nature that new man which is created after God, in Whom dwelt all the fullness of the Godhead bodily, He drew with Him into the same grace all the nature that partakes of His body and is akin to Him. And these glad tidings He proclaims through the woman, not to those disciples only, but also to all who up to the present day become disciples of the Word, — the tidings, namely, that man is no longer outlawed, nor cast out of the kingdom of God, but is once more a son, once more in the station assigned to him by his God, inasmuch as along with the first-fruits of humanity the lump also is hallowed. For behold, He says, I and the children whom God has given Me. He Who for our sakes was partaker of flesh and blood has recovered you, and brought you back to the place whence ye strayed away, becoming mere flesh and blood by sin. And so He from Whom we were formerly alienated by our revolt has become our Father and our God. Accordingly in the passage cited above the Lord brings the glad tidings of this benefit. And the words are not a proof of the degradation of the Son, but the glad tidings of our reconciliation to God. For that which has taken place in Christ's Humanity is a common boon bestowed on mankind generally. For as when we see in Him the weight of the body, which naturally gravitates to earth, ascending through the air into the heavens, we believe according to the words of the Apostle, that we also shall be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air 1 Thessalonians 4:16, even so, when we hear that the true God and Father has become the God and Father of our First-fruits, we no longer doubt that the same God has become our God and Father too, inasmuch as we have learned that we shall come to the same place whither Christ has entered for us as our forerunner. And the fact too that this grace was revealed by means of a woman, itself agrees with the interpretation which we have given. For since, as the Apostle tells us, the woman, being deceived, was in the transgression 1 Timothy 2:14, and was by her disobedience foremost in the revolt from God, for this cause she is the first witness of the resurrection, that she might retrieve by her faith in the resurrection the overthrow caused by her disobedience, and that as, by making herself at the beginning a minister and advocate to her husband of the counsels of the serpent, she brought into human life the beginning of evil, and its train of consequences, so, by ministering to His disciples the words of Him Who slew the rebel dragon, she might become to men the guide to faith, whereby with good reason the first proclamation of death is annulled. It is likely, indeed, that by more diligent students a more profitable explanation of the text may be discovered. But even though none such should be found, I think that every devout reader will agree that the one advanced by our opponents is futile, after comparing it with that which we have brought forward. For the one has been fabricated to destroy the glory of the Only-begotten, and nothing more: but the other includes in its scope the aim of the dispensation concerning man. For it has been shown that it was not the intangible, immutable, and invisible God, but the moving, visible, and tangible nature which is proper to humanity, that gave command to Mary to minister the word to His disciples.

Let us also investigate this point — what defense he has to offer on those matters where he was convicted of error by the great Basil, when he banishes the Only-begotten God to the realm of darkness. He says: "As great as the difference between the generate and the ungenerate is, so great is the divergence between Light and Light." Since he has already shown that the difference between the generate and the ungenerate is not merely one of greater or lesser intensity, but that they are diametrically opposed in their meaning, and since he has inferred by logical consequence from his premises that the difference between the light of the Father and that of the Son corresponds to ungeneracy and generation, we must necessarily suppose in the Son not a diminution of light but a complete alienation from light. For just as we cannot say that generation is a modified ungeneracy, but the meaning of the terms γέννησις and ἀγεννησία are absolutely contradictory and mutually exclusive, so if the same distinction is to be preserved between the Light of the Father and that conceived as existing in the Son, it will be logically concluded that the Son is not to be conceived as Light, since he is excluded both from ungeneracy itself and from the light which accompanies that condition — and He who is something different from light will evidently, by consequence, have affinity with its contrary. Since this absurdity results from his principles, Eunomius tries to explain it away by dialectical tricks, saying the following: "For we know, we know the true Light, we know Him who created the light after the heavens and the earth, we have heard the Life and Truth Himself, even Christ, saying to His disciples, 'You are the light of the world,' we have learned from the blessed Paul, when he gives the title of 'Light unapproachable' to the God over all, and by this addition defines and teaches us the transcendent superiority of His Light. And now that we have learned that there is so great a difference between the one Light and the other, we shall not patiently endure even the mere mention of the notion that the conception of light in either case is one and the same." Can he be serious when he advances such arguments in his attempts against the truth, or is he testing the dullness of those who follow his error to see whether they can detect so childish and transparent a fallacy, or have no sense to discern such a barefaced imposition? For I suppose that no one is so senseless as not to perceive the juggling with equivocal terms by which Eunomius deludes both himself and his admirers. The disciples, he says, were called light, and that which was produced in the course of creation is also called light. But who does not know that in these only the name is common, and the thing meant in each case is quite different? For the light of the sun gives discernment to the sight, but the word of the disciples implants in men's souls the illumination of the truth. If, then, he is aware of this difference even in the case of that light, so that he thinks the light of the body is one thing and the light of the soul another, we need no longer discuss the point with him, since his defense itself condemns him if we remain silent. But if in that light he cannot discover such a difference regarding the mode of operation (for it is not, he may say, the light of the eyes that illuminates the flesh and the spiritual light that illuminates the soul, but the operation and the potency of the one light and of the other is the same, operating in the same sphere and on the same objects), then how is it that from the difference between the light of the beams of the sun and that of the words of the Apostles, he infers a similar difference between the Only-begotten Light and the Light of the Father? But the Son, he says, is called the "true" Light, the Father "Light unapproachable." Well, these additional distinctions imply a difference in degree only, and not in kind, between the light of the Son and the light of the Father. He thinks that the true is one thing and the unapproachable another. I suppose there is no one so idiotic as not to see the real identity of meaning in the two terms. For the true and the unapproachable are each of them removed in an equally absolute degree from their contraries. For just as the true does not admit any intermixture of the false, even so the unapproachable does not admit the access of its contrary. For the unapproachable is surely unapproachable by evil. But the light of the Son is not evil, for how can anyone see in evil that which is true? Since, then, the truth is not evil, no one can say that the light which is in the Father is unapproachable by the truth. For if it were to reject the truth it would of course be associated with falsehood. For the nature of contradictories is such that the absence of the better involves the presence of its opposite. If, then, anyone were to say that the Light of the Father was contemplated as remote from the presentation of its opposite, he would interpret the term unapproachable in a manner agreeable to the intention of the Apostle. But if he were to say that unapproachable signified alienation from good, he would suppose nothing else than that God was alien from and at enmity with Himself, being at the same time good and opposed to good. But this is impossible, for the good is akin to good. Accordingly the one Light is not divergent from the other. For the Son is the true Light, and the Father is Light unapproachable. In fact I would make bold to say that the man who should interchange the two attributes would not be wrong. For the true is unapproachable by the false, and on the other side, the unapproachable is found to be in unsullied truth. Accordingly the unapproachable is identical with the true, because that which is signified by each expression is equally inaccessible to evil. What is the difference then that is imagined to exist in these by him who deceives himself and his followers by the equivocal use of the term Light? But let us not pass over this point either without notice: that it is only after garbling the Apostle's words to suit his own fancy that he cites the phrase as if it came from him. For Paul says, "dwelling in light unapproachable." But there is a great difference between being oneself something and being in something. For he who said "dwelling in light unapproachable" did not, by the word dwelling, indicate God Himself, but that which surrounds Him, which in our view is equivalent to the Gospel phrase which tells us that the Father is in the Son. For the Son is true Light, and the truth is unapproachable by falsehood, so then the Son is Light unapproachable in which the Father dwells, or in Whom the Father is.

Let us also investigate this point as well — what defense he has to offer on those matters on which he was convicted of error by the great Basil, when he banishes the Only-begotten God to the realm of darkness, saying, As great as is the difference between the generate and the ungenerate, so great is the divergence between Light and Light. For as he has already shown that the difference between the generate and the ungenerate is not merely one of greater or less intensity, but that they are diametrically opposed as regards their meaning; and since he has inferred by logical consequence from his premises that, as the difference between the light of the Father and that of the Son corresponds to ungeneracy and generation, we must necessarily suppose in the Son not a diminution of light, but a complete alienation from light. For as we cannot say that generation is a modified ungeneracy, but the signification of the terms γέννησις and ἀ γεννησία are absolutely contradictory and mutually exclusive, so, if the same distinction is to be preserved between the Light of the Father and that conceived as existing in the Son, it will be logically concluded that the Son is not henceforth to be conceived as Light, as he is excluded alike from ungeneracy itself, and from the light which accompanies that condition — and He Who is something different from light will evidently, by consequence, have affinity with its contrary — since this absurdity, I say, results from his principles, Eunomius endeavours to explain it away by dialectic artifices, delivering himself as follows: For we know, we know the true Light, we know Him who created the light after the heavens and the earth, we have heard the Life and Truth Himself, even Christ, saying to His disciples, 'You are the light of the world,' we have learned from the blessed Paul, when he gives the title of 'Light unapproachable ' to the God over all, and by the addition defines and teaches us the transcendent superiority of His Light; and now that we have learned that there is so great a difference between the one Light and the other, we shall not patiently endure so much as the mere mention of the notion that the conception of light in either case is one and the same. Can he be serious when he advances such arguments in his attempts against the truth, or is he experimenting upon the dulness of those who follow his error to see whether they can detect so childish and transparent a fallacy, or have no sense to discern such a barefaced imposition? For I suppose that no one is so senseless as not to perceive the juggling with equivocal terms by which Eunomius deludes both himself and his admirers. The disciples, he says, were termed light, and that which was produced in the course of creation is also called light. But who does not know that in these only the name is common, and the thing meant in each case is quite different? For the light of the sun gives discernment to the sight, but the word of the disciples implants in men's souls the illumination of the truth. If, then, he is aware of this difference even in the case of that light, so that he thinks the light of the body is one thing, and the light of the soul another, we need no longer discuss the point with him, since his defense itself condemns him if we hold our peace. But if in that light he cannot discover such a difference as regards the mode of operation, (for it is not, he may say, the light of the eyes that illumines the flesh, and the spiritual light which illumines the soul, but the operation and the potency of the one light and of the other is the same, operating in the same sphere and on the same objects,) then how is it that from the difference between the light of the beams of the sun and that of the words of the Apostles, he infers a like difference between the Only-begotten Light and the Light of the Father? But the Son, he says, is called the ' true ' Light, the Father 'Light unapproachable.' Well, these additional distinctions import a difference in degree only, and not in kind, between the light of the Son and the light of the Father. He thinks that the true is one thing, and the unapproachable another. I suppose there is no one so idiotic as not to see the real identity of meaning in the two terms. For the true and the unapproachable are each of them removed in an equally absolute degree from their contraries. For as the true does not admit any intermixture of the false, even so the unapproachable does not admit the access of its contrary. For the unapproachable is surely unapproachable by evil. But the light of the Son is not evil; for how can any one see in evil that which is true? Since, then, the truth is not evil, no one can say that the light which is in the Father is unapproachable by the truth. For if it were to reject the truth it would of course be associated with falsehood. For the nature of contradictories is such that the absence of the better involves the presence of its opposite. If, then, any one were to say that the Light of the Father was contemplated as remote from the presentation of its opposite, he would interpret the term unapproachable in a manner agreeable to the intention of the Apostle. But if he were to say that unapproachable signified alienation from good, he would suppose nothing else than that God was alien from, and at enmity with, Himself, being at the same time good and opposed to good. But this is impossible: for the good is akin to good. Accordingly the one Light is not divergent from the other. For the Son is the true Light, and the Father is Light unapproachable. In fact I would make bold to say that the man who should interchange the two attributes would not be wrong. For the true is unapproachable by the false, and on the other side, the unapproachable is found to be in unsullied truth. Accordingly the unapproachable is identical with the true, because that which is signified by each expression is equally inaccessible to evil. What is the difference then, that is imagined to exist in these by him who imposes on himself and his followers by the equivocal use of the term Light? But let us not pass over this point either without notice, that it is only after garbling the Apostle's words to suit his own fancy that he cites the phrase as if it came from him. For Paul says, dwelling in light unapproachable 1 Timothy 6:16. But there is a great difference between being oneself something and being in something. For he who said, dwelling in light unapproachable, did not, by the word dwelling, indicate God Himself, but that which surrounds Him, which in our view is equivalent to the Gospel phrase which tells us that the Father is in the Son. For the Son is true Light, and the truth is unapproachable by falsehood; so then the Son is Light unapproachable in which the Father dwells, or in Whom the Father is.

But he puts his strength into his pointless argument and says, "From the facts themselves, and from the oracles that are believed, I present the proof of my statement." Such is his promise, but whether the arguments he advances bear out his claims, the discerning reader will of course consider. The blessed John, he says, after saying that the Word was in the beginning, and after calling Him Life, and then giving the Life the further title of "Light," says a little later, "And the Word was made flesh." If then the Light is Life, and the Word is Life, and the Word was made flesh, it becomes clear from this that the Light became incarnate. What then? Because the Light and the Life, and God and the Word, was revealed in flesh, does it follow that the true Light is different in any degree from the Light which is in the Father? No, the Gospel testifies that even when it had its place in darkness, the light remained unreachable by the contrary element, for it says, "The Light shined in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not." If then the light when it found its place in darkness had been changed to its opposite and overpowered by gloom, this would have been a strong argument in support of the view of those who wish to show how far inferior this Light is in comparison with that contemplated in the Father. But if the Word, even though it is in the flesh, remains the Word, and if the Light, even though it shines in darkness, is no less Light, without admitting the fellowship of its opposite, and if the Life, even though it is in death, remains secure in Itself, and if God, even though He submits to take upon Himself the form of a servant, does not Himself become a servant, but takes away the slavish subordination and absorbs it into lordship and royalty, making that which was human and lowly to become both Lord and Christ—if all this is so, how does he show by this argument variation of the Light to inferiority, when each Light has in equal measure the property of being inconvertible to evil and unalterable? And how is it that he also fails to observe this, that he who looked on the incarnate Word, Who was both Light and Life and God, recognized through the glory which he saw the Father of glory, and says, "We beheld His glory, the glory as of the Only-begotten of the Father"?

But he puts his strength into his idle contention and says, From the facts themselves, and from the oracles that are believed, I present the proof of my statement. Such is his promise, but whether the arguments he advances bear out his professions, the discerning reader will of course consider. The blessed John, he says, after saying that the Word was in the beginning, and after calling Him Life, and subsequently giving the Life the further title of 'Light,' says, a little later, 'And the Word was made flesh.' If then the Light is Life, and the Word is Life, and the Word was made flesh, it thence becomes plain that the Light was incarnate. What then? Because the Light and the Life, and God and the Word, was manifested in flesh, does it follow that the true Light is divergent in any degree from the Light which is in the Father? Nay, it is attested by the Gospel that, even when it had place in darkness, the light remained unapproachable by the contrary element: for the Light, he says, shined in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not. If then the light when it found place in darkness had been changed to its contrary, and overpowered by gloom, this would have been a strong argument in support of the view of those who wish to show how far inferior is this Light in comparison with that contemplated in the Father. But if the Word, even though it be in the flesh, remains the Word, and if the Light, even though it shines in darkness, is no less Light, without admitting the fellowship of its contrary, and if the Life, even though it be in death, remains secure in Itself, and if God, even though He submit to take upon Him the form of a servant, does not Himself become a servant, but takes away the slavish subordination and absorbs it into lordship and royalty, making that which was human and lowly to become both Lord and Christ — if all this be so, how does he show by this argument variation of the Light to inferiority, when each Light has in equal measure the property of being inconvertible to evil, and unalterable? And how is it that he also fails to observe this, that he who looked on the incarnate Word, Who was both Light and Life and God, recognized, through the glory which he saw, the Father of glory, and says, We beheld His glory, the glory as of the Only-begotten of the Father?

But he has reached what he thinks is an irrefutable argument, which we detected long ago lurking in what followed his statements, but which is here proclaimed openly without disguise. For he wants to show that the essence of the Son is subject to suffering and decay, and in no way differs from material nature, which is in a state of flux, so that by this means he may demonstrate His difference from the Father. For he says, If he can show that the God Who is over all, Who is the Light unapproachable, was incarnate or could be incarnate, came under authority, obeyed commands, came under the laws of men, bore the Cross, let him say that the Light is equal to the Light. If we had brought forward these words as following by necessary consequence from premises laid down by Eunomius, who would not have charged us with unfairness, using an overly subtle dialectic to reduce our opponents' statement to such an absurdity? But as things stand, the fact that they themselves make no attempt to suppress the absurdity that naturally follows from their assumption helps to support our argument that it was not without careful thought that, with the help of truth, we criticized the argument of heresy. For look how undisguised and outspoken is their striving against the Only-begotten God! Indeed, by His enemies His work of mercy is used as a means of disparaging and slandering the Nature of the Son of God, as though not by deliberate choice, but by a compulsion of His Nature he had slipped down to life in the flesh and to the suffering of the Cross! And just as it is the nature of a stone to fall downward and of fire to rise upward, and as these material objects do not exchange their natures with one another, so that the stone should have an upward tendency and fire be pressed down by its weight and sink downwards, even so they claim that suffering was part of the very Nature of the Son, and that for this reason He came to what was related and familiar to Him, but that the Nature of the Father, being free from such sufferings, remained unapproachable by contact with evil. For he says that the God Who is over all, Who is Light unapproachable, neither was incarnate nor could be incarnate. The first of the two statements was quite enough, that the Father did not become incarnate. But now by his addition a double absurdity arises; for he either accuses the Son of evil, or the Father of powerlessness. For if to partake of our flesh is evil, then he attributes evil to the Only-begotten God; but if the loving-kindness toward humanity was good, then he makes out the Father to be powerless for good, by saying that it would not have been in His power to have effectively bestowed such grace by taking flesh. And yet who in the world does not know that life-giving power proceeds to actual operation both in the Father and in the Son? For as the Father raises up the dead and gives them life, He says, even so the Son gives life to whom He wills—meaning obviously by dead us who had fallen from the true life. If then it is in the same way as the Father gives life, and not otherwise, that the Son brings to operation the same grace, how is it that the adversary of God moves his profane tongue against both, insulting the Father by attributing to Him powerlessness for good, and the Son by attributing to Him association with evil? But Light, he says, is not equal to Light, because the one he calls true, and the other unapproachable. Is then the true considered to be a diminution of the unapproachable? Why so? And yet their argument is that the Godhead of the Father must be conceived to be greater and more exalted than that of the Son, because the one is called in the Gospel true God, the other God without the addition of true. How then does the same term, as applied to the Godhead, indicate an enhancement of the concept, and as applied to Light, a diminution? For if they say that the Father is greater than the Son because He is true God, by the same reasoning the Son would be acknowledged to be greater than the Father, because the former is called true Light, and the latter not so. But this Light, says Eunomius, carried into effect the plan of mercy, while the other remained inactive with respect to that gracious action. A new and strange way of determining priority in dignity! They judge that which is ineffective for a benevolent purpose to be superior to that which is effective. But such a notion as this neither exists nor will ever be found among Christians—a notion by which it is claimed that every good that exists in things does not have its origin from the Father. But of goods that pertain to us humans, the crowning blessing is held by all right-minded people to be the return to life; and it is secured by the dispensation carried out by the Lord in His human nature; not that the Father remained aloof, as heresy claims, ineffective and inactive during the time of this dispensation. For this is not what He indicates Who said, He that sent Me is with Me, and The Father that dwells in Me, He does the works. With what right then does heresy attribute to the Son alone the gracious intervention on our behalf, and thereby exclude the Father from having any part or share in our gratitude for its successful outcome? For naturally the repayment of thanks is due to our benefactors alone, and He Who is incapable of benefiting us is outside the scope of our gratitude. Do you see how the course of their profane attack upon the Only-begotten Son has missed its mark, and is working around in natural consequence so as to be directed against the majesty of the Father? And this seems to me to be a necessary result of their method of proceeding. For if he that honors the Son honors the Father, according to the Divine declaration, it is plain on the other side that an assault upon the Son strikes at the Father. But I say that to those who with simplicity of heart receive the preaching of the Cross and the resurrection, the same grace should be a cause of equal thankfulness to the Son and to the Father, and now that the Son has accomplished the Father's will (and this, in the language of the Apostle, is that all men should be saved), they ought for this benefit to honor the Father and the Son alike, inasmuch as our salvation would not have been accomplished, had not the good will of the Father proceeded to actual operation for us through His own power. And we have learned from Scripture that the Son is the power of the Father.

But he has reached the irrefutable argument which we long ago detected lurking in the sequel of his statements, but which is here proclaimed aloud without disguise. For he wishes to show that the essence of the Son is subject to passion, and to decay, and in no wise differs from material nature, which is in a state of flux, that by this means he may demonstrate His difference from the Father. For he says, If he can show that the God Who is over all, Who is the Light unapproachable, was incarnate or could be incarnate, came under authority, obeyed commands, came under the laws of men, bore the Cross, let him say that the Light is equal to the Light. If these words had been brought forward by us as following by necessary consequence from premises laid down by Eunomius, who would not have charged us with unfairness, in employing an over-subtle dialectic to reduce our adversaries' statement to such an absurdity? But as things stand, the fact that they themselves make no attempt to suppress the absurdity that naturally follows from their assumption, helps to support our contention that it was not without due reflection that, with the help of truth, we censured the argument of heresy. For behold, how undisguised and outspoken is their striving against the Only-begotten God! Nay, by His enemies His work of mercy is reckoned a means of disparaging and maligning the Nature of the Son of God, as though not of deliberate purpose, but by a compulsion of His Nature he had slipped down to life in the flesh, and to the suffering of the Cross! And as it is the nature of a stone to fall downward, and of fire to rise upward, and as these material objects do not exchange their natures one with another, so that the stone should have an upward tendency, and fire be depressed by its weight and sink downwards, even so they make out that passion was part of the very Nature of the Son, and that for this cause He came to that which was akin and familiar to Him, but that the Nature of the Father, being free from such passions, remained unapproachable by the contact of evil. For he says, that the God Who is over all, Who is Light unapproachable, neither was incarnate nor could be incarnate. The first of the two statements was quite enough, that the Father did not become incarnate. But now by his addition a double absurdity arises; for he either charges the Son with evil, or the Father with powerlessness. For if to partake of our flesh is evil, then he predicates evil of the Only-begotten God; but if the lovingkindness to man was good, then he makes out the Father to be powerless for good, by saying that it would not have been in His power to have effectually bestowed such grace by taking flesh. And yet who in the world does not know that life-giving power proceeds to actual operation both in the Father and in the Son? For as the Father raises up the dead and quickens them, He says, even so the Son quickens whom He will, — meaning obviously by dead us who had fallen from the true life. If then it is even so as the Father quickens, and not otherwise, that the Son brings to operation the same grace, how comes it that the adversary of God moves his profane tongue against both, insulting the Father by attributing to Him powerlessness for good, and the Son by attributing to Him association with evil. But Light, he says, is not equal to Light, because the one he calls true, and the other unapproachable. Is then the true considered to be a diminution of the unapproachable? Why so? And yet their argument is that the Godhead of the Father must be conceived to be greater and more exalted than that of the Son, because the one is called in the Gospel true God, the other God without the addition of true. How then does the same term, as applied to the Godhead, indicate an enhancement of the conception, and, as applied to Light, a diminution? For if they say that the Father is greater than the Son because He is true God, by the same showing the Son would be acknowledged to be greater than the Father, because the former is called true Light, and the latter not so. But this Light, says Eunomius, carried into effect the plan of mercy, while the other remained inoperative with respect to that gracious action. A new and strange mode of determining priority in dignity! They judge that which is ineffective for a benevolent purpose to be superior to that which is operative. But such a notion as this neither exists nor ever will be found among Christians — a notion by which it is made out that every good that is in existent things has not its origin from the Father. But of goods that pertain to us men, the crowning blessing is held by all right-minded men to be the return to life; and it is secured by the dispensation carried out by the Lord in His human nature; not that the Father remained aloof, as heresy will have it, ineffective and inoperative during the time of this dispensation. For it is not this that He indicates Who said, He that sent Me is with Me, and The Father that dwells in Me, He does the works. With what right then does heresy attribute to the Son alone the gracious intervention on our behalf, and thereby exclude the Father from having any part or lot in our gratitude for its successful issue? For naturally the requital of thanks is due to our benefactors alone, and He Who is incapable of benefiting us is outside the pale of our gratitude. See you how the course of their profane attack upon the Only-begotten Son has missed its mark, and is working round in natural consequence so as to be directed against the majesty of the Father? And this seems to me to be a necessary result of their method of proceeding. For if he that honours the Son honours the Father, according to the Divine declaration, it is plain on the other side that an assault upon the Son strikes at the Father. But I say that to those who with simplicity of heart receive the preaching of the Cross and the resurrection, the same grace should be a cause of equal thankfulness to the Son and to the Father, and now that the Son has accomplished the Father's will (and this, in the language of the Apostle, is that all men should be saved 1 Timothy 2:4), they ought for this boon to honour the Father and the Son alike, inasmuch as our salvation would not have been wrought, had not the good will of the Father proceeded to actual operation for us through His own power. And we have learned from the Scripture that the Son is the power of the Father 1 Corinthians 1:24.

Let us examine the passage he cites once more. If he can demonstrate, he says, that the God who is over all, who is the unapproachable Light, was incarnate or could be incarnate, then let him say that the Light is equal to the Light. The meaning of his words is clear from the very structure of the sentence: he does not believe that it was through His almighty Godhead that the Son proved strong enough for such an act of loving-kindness, but rather that it was by being of a nature subject to suffering that He submitted to the suffering of the Cross. As I reflected and investigated how Eunomius came to stumble into such ideas about the Deity—thinking that on one side the ungenerate Light was unapproachable by its opposite and entirely unharmed and free from every suffering and affection, but that on the other side the generate was intermediate in its physis, so that it did not preserve the Divine unsullied and pure in impassibility, but had an ousia mixed and compounded of opposites, which both reached out to partake of good and at the same time dissolved into a condition subject to suffering—since it was impossible to obtain from Scripture any support for such an absurd theory, the thought occurred to me whether perhaps he was an admirer of Egyptian speculation about the Divine and had mixed their ideas with his views concerning the Only-begotten. For it is reported that they say their elaborate way of constructing their idols, when they adapt the forms of certain irrational animals to human limbs, is a symbolic representation of that mixed nature which they call daemon, and that this is more subtle than that of humans and far surpasses our nature in power, but has the Divine element in it not unmixed or pure, but combined with the nature of the soul and the perceptions of the body, and is receptive of pleasure and pain, neither of which finds place with the ungenerate God. For they too use this term, attributing to the supreme God, as they conceive Him, the attribute of ungeneracy. Thus our wise theologian seems to us to be importing into the Christian creed an Anubis, Isis, or Osiris from the Egyptian shrines, everything except the acknowledgment of their names: but there is no difference in profanity between someone who openly professes the names of idols and someone who, while holding the belief about them in his heart, is nevertheless reluctant to use their names. If, then, it is impossible to derive any support for this impiety from Holy Scripture, while their theory draws all its strength from the riddles of the hieroglyphics, there can certainly be no doubt what right-minded people ought to think about this. But that this accusation we bring is no insulting slander, Eunomius will testify for us by his own words, saying as he does that the ungenerate Light is unapproachable and does not have the power to submit to experiencing affections, but affirming that such a condition is natural and appropriate to the generate: so that humanity need feel no gratitude to the Only-begotten God for what He suffered, if, as they say, it was by the spontaneous action of His physis that He fell into the experience of affections, His ousia, which was capable of being thus affected, being naturally dragged down to this, which deserves no thanks. For who would welcome as a favor that which happens by necessity, even if it is beneficial and profitable? For we do not thank fire for its warmth nor water for its fluidity, as we attribute these qualities to the necessity of their respective natures, because fire cannot be abandoned by its power of warming, nor can water remain stationary on a slope, since the incline spontaneously draws its motion forward. If, then, they say that the benefit accomplished by the Son through His incarnation was by a necessity of His physis, they certainly offer Him no thanks, since they attribute what He did not to an authoritative power but to a natural compulsion. But if, while they experience the benefit of the gift, they disparage the loving-kindness that brought it, I fear their impiety may lead them to the opposite error, and they may consider the condition of the Son, which could be thus affected, worthy of more honor than the freedom from such affections possessed by the Father, making their own advantage the standard of good. For if it had been the case that the Son was incapable of being thus affected, as they claim of the Father, our nature would still have remained in its miserable condition, since there would have been no one to lift up human nature to incorruption through what He Himself experienced—and so it goes unnoticed that the cunning of these quibblers, by the very means it uses in its attempt to destroy the majesty of the Only-begotten God, actually raises human conceptions of Him to a grander and loftier height, seeing that He who has the power to act is more to be honored than one who is powerless for good.

Let us once more notice the passage cited. If he can show, he says, that the God Who is over all, Who is the Light unapproachable, was incarnate, or could be incarnate,….then let him say that the Light is equal to the Light. The purport of his words is plain from the very form of the sentence, namely, that he does not think that it was by His almighty Godhead that the Son proved strong for such a form of loving-kindness, but that it was by being of a nature subject to passion that He stooped to the suffering of the Cross. Well, as I pondered and inquired how Eunomius came to stumble into such notions about the Deity, as to think that on the one side the ungenerate Light was unapproachable by its contrary, and entirely unimpaired and free from every passion and affection, but that on the other the generate was intermediate in its nature, so as not to preserve the Divine unsullied and pure in impassibility, but to have an essence mixed and compounded of contraries, which at once stretched out to partake of good, and at the same time melted away into a condition subject to passion, since it was impossible to obtain from Scripture premises to support so absurd a theory, the thought struck me, whether it could be that he was an admirer of the speculations of the Egyptians on the subject of the Divine, and had mixed up their fancies with his views concerning the Only-begotten. For it is reported that they say that their fantastic mode of compounding their idols, when they adapt the forms of certain irrational animals to human limbs, is an enigmatic symbol of that mixed nature which they call dæmon, and that this is more subtle than that of men, and far surpasses our nature in power, but has the Divine element in it not unmingled or uncompounded, but is combined with the nature of the soul and the perceptions of the body, and is receptive of pleasure and pain, neither of which finds place with the ungenerate God. For they too use this name, ascribing to the supreme God, as they imagine Him, the attribute of ungeneracy. Thus our sage theologian seems to us to be importing into the Christian creed an Anubis, Isis, or Osiris from the Egyptian shrines, all but the acknowledgment of their names: but there is no difference in profanity between him who openly makes profession of the names of idols, and him who, while holding the belief about them in his heart, is yet chary of their names. If, then, it is impossible to get out of Holy Scripture any support for this impiety, while their theory draws all its strength from the riddles of the hieroglyphics, assuredly there can be no doubt what right-minded persons ought to think of this. But that this accusation which we bring is no insulting slander, Eunomius shall testify for us by his own words, saying as he does that the ungenerate Light is unapproachable, and has not the power of stooping to experience affections, but affirming that such a condition is germane and akin to the generate: so that man need feel no gratitude to the Only-begotten God for what He suffered, if, as they say, it was by the spontaneous action of His nature that He slipped down to the experience of affections, His essence, which was capable of being thus affected, being naturally dragged down thereto, which demands no thanks. For who would welcome as a boon that which takes place by necessity, even if it be gainful and profitable? For we neither thank fire for its warmth nor water for its fluidity, as we refer these qualities to the necessity of their several natures, because fire cannot be deserted by its power of warming, nor can water remain stationary upon an incline, inasmuch as the slope spontaneously draws its motion onwards. If, then, they say that the benefit wrought by the Son through His incarnation was by a necessity of His nature, they certainly render Him no thanks, inasmuch as they refer what He did, not to an authoritative power, but to a natural compulsion. But if, while they experience the benefit of the gift, they disparage the lovingkindness that brought it, I fear lest their impiety should work round to the opposite error, and lest they should deem the condition of the Son, that could be thus affected, worthy of more honour than the freedom from such affections possessed by the Father, making their own advantage the criterion of good. For if the case had been that the Son was incapable of being thus affected, as they affirm of the Father, our nature would still have remained in its miserable plight, inasmuch as there would have been none to lift up man's nature to incorruption by what He Himself experienced — and so it escapes notice that the cunning of these quibblers, by the very means which it employs in its attempt to destroy the majesty of the Only-begotten God, does but raise men's conceptions of Him to a grander and loftier height, seeing it is the case that He Who has the power to act, is more to be honoured than one who is powerless for good.

I feel that my argument is running away with me, since it does not stay on its regular course. Instead, like some hot-blooded and high-spirited colt, it is carried away by our opponents' blasphemies to wander through the absurdities of their system. So we must restrain it when it would run wild beyond the limits of moderate demonstration of absurd consequences. But the kind reader will surely pardon what we have said, not attributing the absurdity that emerges from our investigation to us, but to those who established such harmful premises. However, we must now turn our attention to another of his statements. He says that our God is also composite, because while we suppose the Light to be common, we still separate one Light from the other by certain special attributes and various differences. For what is united by one common nature but still separated by certain differences and combinations of peculiarities is nonetheless composite. Our answer to this is brief and easily dealt with. For what he brings as an accusation against our doctrines we acknowledge ourselves, if he is not found to establish the same position by his own words. Let us just consider what he has written. He calls the Lord true Light, and the Father unapproachable Light. So by naming each this way, he also acknowledges their commonality with respect to light. But since titles are applied to things because they fit them, as he has often insisted, we do not think that the name of light is used of the Divine Nature merely by itself, apart from some meaning, but rather that it is predicated by virtue of some underlying reality. So by using a common name, they recognize the identity of the things signified, since they have already declared that the natures of things that have the same name cannot be different. Since, then, the meaning of Light is one and the same, the addition of "unapproachable" and "true," according to heretical language, separates the common nature by specific differences, so that the Light of the Father is conceived as one thing, and the Light of the Son as another, separated from each other by special properties. Let him, then, either overthrow his own positions to avoid making the Deity composite by his statements, or let him stop charging us with what he can see contained in his own language. Our statement does not violate the simplicity of the Godhead in this way, since community and specific difference are not ousia, so that the conjunction of these would make the subject composite. Rather, on one side the ousia by itself remains whatever it is in nature, being what it is, while on the other side, everyone with reason would say that these—community and specific difference—are among the accompanying conceptions and attributes. Even in us humans some community with the Divine Nature can be discerned, but Divinity is not thereby humanity, or humanity Divinity. For while we believe that God is good, we also find this character predicated of men in Scripture. But the special meaning in each case establishes a distinction in the community arising from the use of the homonymous term. For He Who is the fountain of goodness is named from it, but he who has some share of goodness also partakes in the name, and God is not therefore composite because He shares with men the title of good. From these considerations it must clearly be allowed that the idea of community is one thing, and that of ousia another, and we are not on that account any more to maintain composition or multiplicity of parts in that simple Nature which has nothing to do with quantity, simply because some of the attributes we contemplate in It are either regarded as special, or have a kind of common significance.

But I feel that my argument is running away with me, for it does not remain in the regular course, but, like some hot-blooded and spirited colt, is carried away by the blasphemies of our opponents to range over the absurdities of their system. Accordingly we must restrain it when it would run wild beyond the bounds of moderation in demonstration of absurd consequences. But the kindly reader will doubtless pardon what we have said, not imputing the absurdity that emerges from our investigation to us, but to those who laid down such mischievous premises. We must, however, now transfer our attention to another of his statements. For he says that our God also is composite, in that while we suppose the Light to be common, we yet separate the one Light from the other by certain special attributes and various differences. For that is none the less composite which, while united by one common nature, is yet separated by certain differences and conjunctions of peculiarities. To this our answer is short and easily dismissed. For what he brings as matter of accusation against our doctrines we acknowledge against ourselves, if he is not found to establish the same position by his own words. Let us just consider what he has written. He calls the Lord true Light, and the Father Light unapproachable. Accordingly, by thus naming each, he also acknowledges their community in respect to light. But as titles are applied to things because they fit them, as he has often insisted, we do not conceive that the name of light is used of the Divine Nature barely, apart from some meaning, but rather that it is predicated by virtue of some underlying reality. Accordingly, by the use of a common name, they recognize the identity of the objects signified, since they have already declared that the natures of those things which have the same name cannot be different. Since, then, the meaning of Light is one and the same, the addition of unapproachable and true, according to the language of heresy, separates the common nature by specific differences, so that the Light of the Father is conceived as one thing, and the Light of the Son as another, separated one from the other by special properties. Let him, then, either overthrow his own positions to avoid making out by his statements that the Deity is composite, or let him abstain from charging against us what he may see contained in his own language. For our statement does not hereby violate the simplicity of the Godhead, since community and specific difference are not essence, so that the conjunction of these should render the subject composite. But on the one side the essence by itself remains whatever it is in nature, being what it is, while, on the other, every one possessed of reason would say that these — community and specific difference — were among the accompanying conceptions and attributes: since even in us men there may be discerned some community with the Divine Nature, but Divinity is not the more on that account humanity, or humanity Divinity. For while we believe that God is good, we also find this character predicated of men in Scripture. But the special signification in each case establishes a distinction in the community arising from the use of the homonymous term. For He Who is the fountain of goodness is named from it; but he who has some share of goodness also partakes in the name, and God is not for this reason composite, that He shares with men the title of good. From these considerations it must obviously be allowed that the idea of community is one thing, and that of essence another, and we are not on that account any the more to maintain composition or multiplicity of parts in that simple Nature which has nothing to do with quantity, because some of the attributes we contemplate in It are either regarded as special, or have a sort of common significance.

But let us move on, if you agree, to another of his statements, and set aside the nonsense in between. He laboriously repeats against our argument the Aristotelian division of existing things, elaborating on genera, species, differentiae, and individuals, and deploying all the technical language of the categories to attack our doctrines. Let us pass over all this and turn our discussion to address his supposedly weighty and irresistible argument. For having braced his argument with Demosthenic fervor, he has presented himself to us as a second Paeanian of Oltiseris, imitating that orator's severity in his struggle against us. I will quote our author's words exactly. Yes, he says, but if the generate is contrary to the ungenerate, and the Generate Light is equally inferior to the Ungenerate Light, then one will be found to be light and the other darkness. Let anyone who has the time learn from his words how sharp his way of dealing with this opposition is, and how exactly it hits the mark. But I would ask this imitator of our words either to say what we have said, or to make his imitation as close as possible, or else, if he deals with our argument according to his own education and ability, to speak in his own voice and not in ours. For I hope no one will so misunderstand our meaning as to suppose that, while generate is contradictory in sense to ungenerate, one is a diminution of the other. For the difference between contradictories is not one of greater or lesser intensity, but rests its opposition on their being mutually exclusive in their meaning: as, for example, we say that a man is asleep or not asleep, sitting or not sitting, that he was or was not, and all the rest following the same pattern, where the denial of one is the assertion of its contradictory. Just as living is not a diminution of not living, but its complete opposite, so we understood having been generated not as a diminution of not having been generated, but as an opposite and contradictory admitting no middle term, so that what is expressed by one has nothing whatever to do with what is expressed by the other in terms of less or more. Let him therefore who says that one of two contradictories is defective compared with the other speak in his own voice, not in ours. For our simple language says that things which correspond to contradictories differ from one another just as their originals do. So even if Eunomius perceives in the Light the same divergence as in the generate compared with the Ungenerate, I will reassert my statement that, just as in the one case the one member of the contradiction has nothing in common with its opposite, so if light is placed on the same side as one of the two contradictories, the remaining place in the figure must of course be assigned to darkness, the necessity of the antithesis arranging the term of light over against its opposite, in accordance with the analogy of the previous contradictory terms generate and ungenerate. Such is the straightforward answer which we, who as our disparaging author says have attempted to write without logical training, deliver in our plain speech to our new Paeanian. But to see how he contended with this contradiction, advancing against us those hot and fire-breathing words of his with Demosthenic intensity, let those who like to have a laugh study the treatise of our orator himself. For our pen is readily roused to refute the notions of impiety, but is quite unsuited to the task of ridiculing the ignorance of untrained minds.

But let us pass on, if it seems good, to another of his statements, and dismiss the nonsense that comes between. He who laboriously reiterates against our argument the Aristotelian division of existent things, has elaborated genera, and species, and differentiæ, and individuals, and advanced all the technical language of the categories for the injury of our doctrines. Let us pass by all this, and turn our discourse to deal with his heavy and irresistible argument. For having braced his argument with Demosthenic fervour, he has started up to our view as a second Pæanian of Oltiseris, imitating that orator's severity in his struggle with us. I will transcribe the language of our author word for word. Yes, he says, but if, as the generate is contrary to the ungenerate, the Generate Light be equally inferior to the Ungenerate Light, the one will be found to be light, the other darkness. Let him who has the leisure learn from his words how pungent is his mode of dealing with this opposition, and how exactly it hits the mark. But I would beg this imitator of our words either to say what we have said, or to make his imitation of it as close as may be, or else, if he deals with our argument according to his own education and ability, to speak in his own person and not in ours. For I hope that no one will so miss our meaning as to suppose that, while generate is contradictory in sense to ungenerate, one is a diminution of the other. For the difference between contradictories is not one of greater or less intensity, but rests its opposition upon their being mutually exclusive in their signification: as, for example, we say that a man is asleep or not asleep, sitting or not sitting, that he was or was not, and all the rest after the same model, where the denial of one is the assertion of its contradictory. As, then, to live is not a diminution of not living, but its complete opposite, even so we conceived having been generated not as a diminution of not having been generated, but as an opposite and contradictory not admitting of any middle term, so that which is expressed by the one has nothing whatever to do with that which is expressed by the other in the way of less or more. Let him therefore who says that one of two contradictories is defective as compared with the other, speak in his own person, not in ours. For our homely language says that things which correspond to contradictories differ from one another even as their originals do. So that, even if Eunomius discerns in the Light the same divergence as in the generate compared with the Ungenerate, I will re-assert my statement, that as in the one case the one member of the contradiction has nothing in common with its opposite, so if light be placed on the same side as one of the two contradictories, the remaining place in the figure must of course be assigned to darkness, the necessity of the antithesis arranging the term of light over against its opposite, in accordance with the analogy of the previous contradictory terms generate and ungenerate. Such is the clumsy answer which we, who as our disparaging author says, have attempted to write without logical training, deliver in our rustic dialect to our new Pæanian. But to see how he contended with this contradiction, advancing against us those hot and fire-breathing words of his with Demosthenic intensity, let those who like to have a laugh study the treatise of our orator itself. For our pen is not very hard to rouse to confute the notions of impiety, but is quite unsuited to the task of ridiculing the ignorance of untutored minds.