OF OUR HOLY FATHER GREGORY, BISHOP OF NYSSA, FIRST BOOK ON THE INSCRIPTIONS OF THE PSALMS.
Preface to a certain friend.
A I have received your command with readiness, O man of God, since it grants me as much zeal as it does you, and I have turned my attention to the inscriptions of the Psalms. For this is what you directed us to investigate: the meaning perceived therein, so that it might be made clear to all what is capable of leading us to virtue through them. Having, therefore, engaged with the entire book of the Psalms with greater attention, I thought it necessary not to begin the discussion from the inscriptions themselves, but to set forth first a certain technical method for understanding the thoughts B of the entire Psalmody; through which the discourse concerning the inscriptions will also be clarified for us. It is necessary, then, first to understand toward what end the aim of this scripture looks; then, to perceive the logical constructions leading toward the subject matter of the thoughts, which the order of the Psalms, well arranged for the knowledge of that end, demonstrates, and the sections...of the whole book are determined by certain specific descriptions, the entire prophecy contained in the Psalms being divided into five parts. Once these have been moderately understood beforehand, the usefulness derived from the inscriptions will become more familiar to us, being made manifest through those things which have been clearly explained by us previously. From this point, therefore, the beginning of this consideration must be taken.
CHAPTER ONE
The end of a life established according to the prescription of virtue is blessedness. For whatever is done with seriousness and deliberation must of necessity have a relation to some end. And just as medicine looks to health, and the goal of agriculture is the preparation of things necessary for life, so too the possession of virtue looks toward making the person who leads a life according to it blessed; for this is the head and the end of every good and of everything conceived in the good. Truly and properly, however, that which is conceived and understood in this most sublime notion of blessedness, one might justly say is the divine nature itself. For thus the great Paul names God, when, out of all the divine titles, he places the name "Blessed" first in one of his epistles, writing in these words: "The blessed and only Potentate, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality, dwelling in light B which no man has seen, nor can see, to whom be honor and eternal power." C For all these sublime thoughts concerning God, in my judgment, contain the definition of blessedness. For if anyone were asked what blessedness is, he would certainly not stray from a right and pious answer if, following the voice of Paul, he were to say that the "Blessed" which is called such properly and primarily, is that nature which is above all; but the blessedness that is found among men is such by participation in that which truly is—which is multiplied and receives various names according to the nature and condition of those things which are derived from another by participation. Therefore, the definition of human blessedness is likeness to the Divine. Since, then, the truly good—or rather that which is beyond the good—is alone blessed and the object naturally to be desired, by which everything that is a partaker of it is made blessed, the divine scripture of the Psalms rightly, by a certain artificial and natural sequence, D shows us the way that leads to this, in a manner that is simple in appearance and free from elaborate teaching, even while it teaches appropriately in various and manifold ways how blessedness is to be acquired by the creature. It is possible, therefore, even from the first hymn itself, to gain some conception concerning the subject at hand, how the discourse, having divided virtue into three parts, testifies to the blessedness of each part according to a fitting proportion. For now, by calling blessed the alienation from evil, as having become the beginning
of inclination toward the better; after this, the meditation of sublime and more divine things, as already begetting in us a habit of the better; then, the likeness to the divine which through these is brought to perfection in those who are being perfected: for the sake of which even the preceding are called blessed. He signifies this by the ever-flourishing tree, to which the life perfected by virtue is made similar. A
CHAPTER II
But in order that we may more accurately understand the teaching concerning the virtues which the discourse sets forth through the entire course of the Psalms, it would be well for us, first, to distinguish for ourselves, setting forward just as in a technical and methodical way—without departing from the proposed work—how the lover of such a life can attain it. For thus we shall better discern the sequence and consistency of the doctrine which we have previously set forth. It is necessary, therefore, that he who intends to turn himself toward virtue should first distinguish the nature of goodness from that of evil which is opposed to goodness, having noted the proper characteristics of each, so that their concept may remain unmixed and not confused by any contagion of communion. C And while the marks which belong properly to each of them may perhaps be others as well, the more general ones, at least in my judgment, are these: namely, that the pleasure and delight which befalls men from them depends partly on the sense and partly on the soul; for wickedness tickles the sense, but virtue exhilarates the soul. D A consequence of this is that, through commendation and blame, the minds of the hearers are turned away from vices and are led toward virtue. For the reproach of an evil life produces hatred thereof, while the praise of goodness kindles the desire for better things. After this, in order that the commendation of an honest life may be made more effective, and the reproach of wickedness more vivid, mention must be made of those who excelled in the beauty of virtue and of those who became notorious for vices and shameful deeds. For examples of different kinds of life, fittingly proposed, strain and steady the disposition of the soul, attracting the mind with hope toward the pursuit and cultivation of all that is best, and schooling and inciting it toward the flight and detestation of similar studies through the reproach of those who have led a shameful life. Beyond all these things, it will be necessary to arrange the entire method of instruction for both in a somewhat more detailed and concise manner; for it will either demonstrate what is right and honorable, or it will dissuade from evil deeds; so that as for the former, it may lead the hearer by the hand, as it were, through certain instructions and admonitions, but as for wickedness, it may lead him away from it through discourses framed for dissuasion.
A Since this has been clarified, and because it is entirely contrary to nature for it to reject all pleasure—I mean the pleasure that is dear to the body, for the joy of the soul is far removed from irrational and slavish delectation—and because we have already recognized the distinct mark of each of these two lives, the life in virtue and the life in vice, knowing that through vice the sensory faculties of our flesh are flattered, whereas virtue becomes a joy of the soul to those who have achieved it; yet for those who are currently being initiated into the higher life, to whom sense still seems to be the criterion of what is good, the soul does not yet have the capacity to see the good clearly, being still untrained and unaccustomed to such understanding—for toward anything unknown, even if it be most excellent, our desire remains unmoved, and if desire does not pre-exist, no pleasure can arise from an object that is not longed for, as desire is the path to pleasure—it is necessary, then, to devise something of this sort for those who have not yet tasted of that pure and divine pleasure, through which the teachings of virtue will be accepted B along with it, sweetened by something that delights the senses; just as it is customary for physicians to do when they make some bitter and difficult-to-take medicinal remedy easily taken by the sick by seasoning it with the sweetness of honey.
If, then, the introduction to the life of virtue has been perfectly articulated by us according to the aforementioned plan—that it is necessary first to separate from one another the opposing pursuits, then to mark each of them with its own sign, and after that to exalt the one with discourse while making the other, which is to be avoided, a subject of reproach; and moreover, to strengthen the mind toward both by the examples of eminent men, and by specific admonitions both to point out the road that leads to the good and to dissuade from what is worse, and to make the harsh and manly quality of virtue sweet to those who are still in their infancy by sweetening it through C something that delights our senses—it is time to consider how, through this art of training which has been examined, all the instruction through the Psalms has been brought forward to us, both turning us away from malice and drawing us toward the study of virtue.
CHAPTER III
D Beginning, therefore—for we shall start from what comes last—let us examine the rationale through which, being that the life lived according to virtue is so harsh and strenuous, it has made the enigmatic teaching of the mysteries and the divine secrets, and the theological doctrine wrapped in inexplicable coverings, so easy to grasp and pleasant, that not only
A should men who are perfect and those whose soul’s senses are already purified attain this erudition, but women also claim it for themselves as their own property; and that it might bring pleasure to infants like a rattle, and to the aged serve in the place of a staff and a rest; and that those whose age is at its peak might consider the gift of this doctrine to be their own; and that he who is of a sad mind and ill-affected due to some event might believe that the grace of this Scripture has been divinely sent for his sake. Furthermore, those who travel by land or sea, and those who practice sedentary trades, and—to sum things up in a few words—all men and women of every kind of life, both sick and healthy, consider that they suffer a loss if they do not always carry this sublime instruction in their mouths. Now, indeed, even banquets and marriage celebrations take this philosophy into their joys as a part of their mirth, not to mention that divine hymnody accustomed to be held in the nightly vigils through the psalms, and the Church’s careful assiduity in the chanting of these.
What, then, is the cause of that ineffable pleasure with which great David suffused his songs; B by reason of which the discipline of the Psalms is so pleasing and acceptable to mortals? Perhaps it might be easy for anyone to state the cause for which we are so delighted when we turn our care and thought to the Psalms. For one might say that the melody of the words and their apt concinnity is the cause why we discourse upon them with such sweetness of mind. I, indeed, although I gladly confess that this is true, yet think that this very thing should not be passed over but diligently examined. For it seems that something greater and more excellent is signaled than what many judge, through the philosophy situated in melody and the modulation of words. What, then, is it that I mean? I have heard one of the wise men, when discoursing on our nature, affirm that man is a small world, holding within himself all things C that are found in the great world. Now the arrangement of this whole is a certain musical harmony and convenience, coupled with itself in a multiform and varied order and concinnity, and consistent with itself; from which concert it can never at any time be torn away, even if there is a manifold difference and change in individual kinds of things. For just as happens in the plectrum or instrument which a musician uses, when he artfully touches the strings and produces a harmonious concert by the variety of sounds—so that if the sound were the same in all of them, that varied melody would by no means be created—the same happens in the temperament of this universe; which, consisting of the mutability of singular things, is connected to itself by a certain ordered and immutable series and convenience, and, bringing about the concord and conspiracy of the parts with the whole, produces that harmonic melody which is consonant with itself from every D part [and]
A hears the glory of God working these things within them, told forth. For truly the hymn of the inaccessible and ineffable glory of God, brought into such a rhythm, is the concord of all creation with itself, tempered through opposites. For rest and motion are in opposition to one another; and yet these are linked together in the nature of existing things. A certain inexplicable mixture of opposites is observed in them, so that in motion rest is made clear, and in that which is not moved, the ever-moving is made manifest. For all things in heaven are always moved, either being carried around in the fixed sphere, or revolving in the opposite direction through the planets. Yet the order within these always stands and remains in the same state, never at any time departing from the state in which it is to something else, but always existing in the same way and remaining in the same condition. B Therefore, the union of the standing with the moving, occurring through a regulated and immutable harmony in all things, is a musical concord, producing a tempered and divine hymnody of the power that holds the whole together. Being an auditor of this, it seems to me, the great David in one of his psalms said that not only the other powers praise God, but the sun and the moon, and the heavens of heavens, and the water above the heavens, and mentions all other things that creation contains. For the breathing together and sympathy of all things with one another, ordered and governed by arrangement, by system, and by succession, is the first and archetypal and true music; which the Harmonizer of all things through the ineffable Word of wisdom artfully strikes upon through the things that are always happening in wisdom. C If, then, the whole universe is a certain musical harmony, of which God is the craftsman and creator, just as the Apostle says; and man is a little world, which has been made as a likeness of Him who harmonized the world; then whatever the Word knows to be true of the great world, it naturally sees also in the small; for the part is entirely akin to the whole. For just as in an D insignificant fragment of glass, one may see the whole orb of the sun through the shining part, as in a mirror, as far as the smallness of the shining surface allows; so also in the little world—I mean in human nature—the whole music observed in the universe is beheld, corresponding through the part to the whole, as far as the whole is captured by the part. And this shows...
A the organic structure of our body, which nature has skillfully fashioned for musical work. You see the pipe of the windpipe, the bridge of the roof of the mouth, the song of the cithara through tongue, cheeks, and mouth as if through strings and a plectrum.
Since everything that is according to nature is friendly to nature, and music has been proven to be natural to us, for this reason the great David blended melody with his philosophy of the virtues; he sprinkled it like a certain sweetness of honey upon those sublime doctrines, through which nature in a way beholds itself B and heals itself. For the healing of nature is the harmonious adjustment of life, which it seems to me the melody suggests through enigmas. For perhaps this is itself an exhortation toward a higher state of life. It implies that the character of those who live in virtue should not be discordant, unruly, or dissonant, nor should it stretch the strings beyond measure—for the fitting harmony of the strings is completely broken if it is stretched too much—nor again, on the other hand, should it slacken the tone into excess through pleasure. For the soul becomes deaf and voiceless when it is rendered limp by such passions. It teaches us to tighten and loosen the tone at the proper time in all other things as well, looking to this, so that our manner of life in these habits might remain at all times harmonious and well-rhythmed, neither excessively slackened nor stretched beyond measure. C Hence, history also bears witness to the great deeds of this divine music performed by David: for when he perceived that Saul had at times become insane and had departed from his right mind, he calmed that affection with song in such a way that his mind returned to its natural state. It is manifest from these things, therefore, toward what the enigma of the melody tends: it teaches that the passions and disturbances of the soul, which are accustomed to be stirred up variously in this life by various events, must be tamed and restrained.
But this too must not be passed over without reflection: that these melodies of ours are not made in the way that songs are composed by those outside our discipline. For the melody and measure do not consist in the sonorous series and connection of words, as one can see among them, for whom rhythm is crafted from the apt composition of accents, with the tone in the sounds now depressed, now raised, D now shortened, now lengthened. Rather, the melody is joined to the divine words without any contrived or artificial effort, and it reveals, as far as possible, the meaning underlying the words through the very reinforcement of the voice according to its pitch and composition. The seasoning of this food, therefore, is of such a kind that the food of doctrine is sweetened as if by certain condiments.
CHAPTER IV
A It is now time to consider the banquet of virtues itself by means of reason, in accordance with the technical theory previously set forth for us. For at the outset it is possible to find virtue distinguished from vice by clear signs, so that the difference between each of these and its opposite is unconfused and utterly distinct. For from the joy that arises in us from them, it is shown what the property of these pursuits is: vice delights the senses of the body, while virtue delights the soul. Thus, the nature of the subject matter, discovered from these signs, is unmistakable and certain.
B This can be found, among other things—both those that are at hand and those that lie hidden in the deep contemplation of concepts—in many of the psalms, and most especially in the fourth psalm, in which he says that those who do not distinguish falsehood and vanity from truth are "hard of heart" [Ps. IV, 3], but that they love what does not exist and overlook what remains and is worthy of being loved. For he said that holiness alone is truly to be marveled at, and that all other things which are pursued by men in the place of goods reside in opinion, not existing in themselves, but seeming to have being in the vain estimation of men. And so that he might reveal the doctrine concerning these things more clearly, he continues, saying that many define the good in terms of things that appear, asserting that only that which can show itself to the senses is to be numbered among C goods. "For many," he says, "say, Who will show us good things?" [Ps. IV, 7]. But he who turns his eyes toward virtue scorns this servile judgment of the good and views the right and noble, illuminated by much light. By this he denotes that divine and sublime exultation and that light which shines forth from the divine face, which the nature of the senses is not permitted to reach. "For the light of your face, O Lord, has been signed upon us" [Ps. IV, 7]. For the face of God, viewed in terms of characteristics, seems to me to be nothing other than the virtues; for by these the divine form is characterized. And having said this, he mentions the perfect sign of virtue: "You have given joy in my heart" [Ps. IV, 8], putting "heart" in the place of soul and mind; for it is not possible for the mind to be delighted by the allurements of vice. D He distinguishes this material and worldly prosperity from the joy of the heart, saying to those who look only at what is present that the belly is the rule for judging what is right. For by saying that grain and wine are multiplied for such as these, he has by this part encompassed in his discourse all the pleasures pertaining to the belly and feasting; these are the beginnings of all material occupation, regarding which effort is successful in nothing.
A For there is no storehouse in human nature for the pleasure that occurs in an instant, such that men might lay up and preserve for themselves that delight which they strive with all their might to procure. Rather, like one of those deceptive phantasms, at the very moment it is believed to be grasped by those who love pleasure, it suddenly vanishes and recedes into nothingness. Yet, after the departure of this vain phantom, a single trace is left behind: shame—a deep and indelible mark imprinted upon those through whom it passed, making it possible, by the manner and art of hunters, to discern the nature of the beast from its very tracks. For those hunters, even when the prey is not visible, recognize the animal by its footprint.
If, therefore, a boar or a lion is recognized B by its own particular tracks, it is entirely consistent that the nature of pleasure should also be discerned in the trace it leaves behind. But indeed, that trace is shame. Observe therefore, that that which imprints such a mark upon the soul is either shame itself or the effective cause of shame. But this has been noted by us only in passing and while attending to something else. For our primary intention was to demonstrate, through the examples in the Psalms themselves, what the end of life is for both those addicted to virtue and those addicted to vice. Therefore, in the aforesaid Psalm, he established that the end of virtue is peace and tranquility, and an uniform and unmixed affection and disposition, free from the passions and disturbances of the soul, which is established in the hope C of communion with God; whereas the state contrary to this, he has made manifest through silence itself. Moreover, he cries out more frequently in the Psalms: "The unrighteous shall be destroyed, the seed of the wicked shall perish," and, "He that loveth iniquity hateth his own soul," and, "He shall rain snares upon sinners," and countless other things similar to these. The entire book of Psalms is filled with praises of virtue and rebukes of the wicked, and the mention of history looks toward two principal ends: it causes you both to emulate and admire the virtue of illustrious men, and to flee the wickedness of those who have given themselves over entirely to shameful acts. For when he rouses you to virtue by examples, he says: "Moses and Aaron among his priests, and Samuel among those who call upon his name. They called upon the Lord, and he heard them. In a pillar of cloud he spoke unto them." D But when he intends to set before the eyes the pitiable end of malice, then he recounts what they suffered who had dedicated themselves entirely to wickedness: "The earth opened and swallowed Dathan, and covered over the congregation of Abiron; a flame burned up the sinners." And: "Make them like Madian and Sisara." And: "Put their princes like Oreb and Zeb and Zebee and Salmana, all their princes," and other things of this kind not
a few. The Psalter suggests to you particular exhortations from beginning to end; it omits no part of the admonition to the praise and honor of honesty, and also [explains] in what manner malice may be avoided: all things are certainly full of maxims leading to honesty; for the acquisition of good is, in any case, the flight and destruction of its contrary. It would be superfluous to set forth all these things with exactness, since it is manifest to those who peruse the volume of the Psalms what it is that should be made clearer here by a more exact discourse.
CHAPTER V.
The entire treatise of the Psalms is divided into five parts. And what is the technical arrangement and division in these sections? The description of the sections becomes manifest, ending uniformly in certain divine doxologies, which it is possible to recognize according to the division of the Psalmodies pointed out by us. And the number of psalmodies in each section is as follows: Of the first, forty; of the second, one and thirty; of the third, seventeen; and of the fourth, the same; of the fifth, five and forty. The first part stands, therefore, upon the fortieth [psalm] from the first, the end of which is: "Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, from age to age, and unto the age; let it be, let it be." The second [stands] upon the seventy-first, the end of which goes thus: "Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who alone does wonders, and blessed be the name of his glory unto the age, and unto the age of the age. And all the earth shall be filled with his glory; let it be, let it be." The third [part] concludes at the eighty-eighth [psalm], and this one also ends in a similar limit. For it is as follows: "Blessed be the Lord for ever; let it be, let it be." The limit of the fourth section is the hundred and fifth psalm, the end of which is similar to the rest: "Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, from age to age, and even unto the age; and all the people shall say, Let it be, let it be." The fifth part extends from this to the last, the limit of which is: "Let every spirit praise the Lord."
What then is the technical order underlying these, it is time to say in a few words. In the first [part], he brings those living in wickedness to a stop from their wayward error; and he draws them toward the choice of the better, so that they may no longer proceed in the deceits of the ungodly, nor stand fast in the deep path of sin, nor practice wickedness as if it were fixed and established for themselves, but rather be joined to the divine law, having perfected for themselves through practice the path that goes not astray, so that the habit toward the better may strike root in them like a plant.
A The first approach to what is good, then, is a departure from its opposites, through which participation in the better comes to be. But he who has already tasted of virtue, and through his own experience has come to understand the nature of the good, is no longer in such a condition that he must needs be drawn away from affection for vice and incited toward virtue by some external exhortation; rather, he himself burns, as it were, with a kind of thirst for the good and the honorable. For the writer of the Psalms compares the vehemence and violence of desire to thirst, citing the thirstiest nature among living creatures, so that he may most vividly set before our eyes the intensity of desire through an animal that is tortured and burns with thirst beyond measure. This animal, he says, is the stag, whose nature it is to fatten itself by feeding on poisonous beasts. For the humors of these beasts are hot and scorching, and when the stag eats of them, it necessarily becomes drier, having been poisoned by the humor of these B beasts. And for this reason it desires water more vehemently, that it may heal the dryness arising from such food. He, therefore, who has initiated a life devoted to virtue in the first part of the Psalm, and has known the sweetness of what he desires by tasting it, and has consumed every creeping species of desire within himself, and has devoured his immoderate appetites instead of beasts with the teeth of temperance, thirsts for the presence and communion of God more than the stag longs for the springs of water. Moreover, he who has fallen upon the fountain after an ardent thirst draws as much water as his desire is able to draw at will. And he who receives within himself that which he has desired is full of what he has craved. For it is not in the way that the fullness of the body is again emptied once it has been filled, nor does that drink remain idle within him; rather, the divine fountain, in whomever it may dwell, draws to itself him who has approached it, and bestows some part of its own power and capacity. C
CHAPTER VI
But indeed, the power to perceive and to bring about all kinds of things is proper to the Divinity. Therefore, he who receives within himself that which he has desired is himself also endowed with this faculty of perception, and he contemplates the nature of all things. For this reason, he has begun the third section of the Psalm with this principle, in which the discourse investigates, above all, how the justice of the divine judgment will be preserved in the inequality of this life, since, for the most part, happiness in this life does not fall to men according to their merits or the dignity of each individual; D for often it is possible to see two extremes in the same person, so that he is at once the greatest in malice and in perennial prosperity. When anyone looks upon this, he is troubled in his soul, lest perhaps it might be more [in keeping] with the human condition that...
A what is called worse, and conversely [that] evil, which in reality is ranked in the share of the better, [should be chosen]. For if justice is praised, but he who is diligent in it acts wickedly, and if malice is slandered, yet it bestows lasting enjoyments of all those things which are eagerly sought upon those who are diligent for it, how is it possible not to think B that malice is to be preferred for the choice of life over virtue—that which is condemned over that which is praised? He, therefore, who is exalted in mind, and who extends his eye as if from some watchtower standing out to those who are distant, sees the difference between malice and virtue, in that the judgment of these comes not from present things, but from future ones. For with the intuitive and discerning eye of the soul, having perceived as if it were present that which is laid up for the good through hope, and having passed over in his soul everything that is seen, and having entered into the heavenly C sanctuaries, he condemns the indiscernibility of those who, in a small-minded way, entrust the judgment of the good to the sensory faculties. Wherefore he says: "For what is there for me in heaven, and what did I desire from you upon the earth?" In the same part of the discourse, he wonderfully magnifies and exalts the heavenly [element] in speech, while he contemptuously and mockingly disparages and loathes that which is sought upon earth by the eyes of the foolish. It is as if one born in prison, judging the darkness in which D he was reared and grew up to be some great good, then, having shared in the grace of the open air, condemns his former judgment, saying, "To what spectacles of the sun and stars, and of all the beauty which is seen in the heaven, did I prefer the familiar darkness, through inexperience of the better!" For which reason he condemns his own past lack of judgment regarding the good, saying that he was brutish as long as he saw the good in those [earthly] things. But when he became with God—and God is the Word—and was led to the right hand, and the Word becomes a right-hand guide for him through counsel—and he saw the glory in virtue, through which the ascent occurs for those who look toward heaven, then he uses those expressions, of which one makes the good in the heavens a matter of wonder, and the other spits out the worthless and vain nature of the zeal for this life by which one has been deceived. And the whole statement is in this manner: "I became as a beast with you," signifying the irrational instinct in such things. Then he adds: "But I am always with you." Having said this, he also adds the manner of the union with God, so that we too might learn how he who was at first like a beast is afterwards united with God. "For you held," he says, "my right hand." By the transition of the mind to the right, he signifies God's help. "And in your counsel you guided me," for guidance to the good does not occur without divine counsel. "And with glory you took me up." He rightly contrasts glory with shame. Which, just as
a chariot and a kind of wing, becomes [the ornament] of him who is taken by the divine hand, when someone alienates himself from shameful deeds. And thus he added to the aforementioned things: "For what is there for me in heaven, and what have I desired from you on earth?" This is what many mortals do even to this day: when such a store of good things is laid up for them in heaven, at their own discretion, nevertheless they strive with prayers to obtain from God those shadowy and imaginary deceptions—rule, I mean, or honor, or wealth, or that wretched little glory for whose desire the human race is insane. But he who is conversant in heavenly things, and does so in this fitting order, adds: "But for me it is good to cleave to God, to place my hope in the Lord." By this he signifies that he who clings to Him through hope in some way grows onto God, having become one with Him. B
CHAPTER VII
Therefore, such being the case in the third section of the ascent to the heights, he who has advanced his mind to such a degree of elevation, having again grasped the superior step, becomes greater and more sublime than himself, in the fourth part, as it were, passing through a third heaven, according to Paul, and becoming higher than the previously traversed eminences. For after these things there succeeds no longer a common man, but one who has already clung and been joined to God. The discourse of the following part begins thus: "A prayer of Moses, the man of God." For such a one is already such that he no longer needs to be tutored by the law, but becomes an instructor of the law to others; such was that sublime Moses of whom we have already heard, who willingly shook off regal dignity like dust clinging to the soles of his feet. Who, for forty years, removed himself from the company of men, living alone with the Alone, and in his quietude, with a mind suspended, was free for the contemplation of invisible realities; who after these things was suffused with ineffable light, and freed the feet of his soul from the leathern and dead covering. Who, by mutually succeeding plagues, wore down the Egyptian army and tyrant, and having rescued Israel from tyranny through light and water; for whom, after the departure from Egypt, all time was one continuous day; never being darkened by the shadows of night. For after the daily course, the rays of the sun were succeeded by another light produced from the cloud in a new manner; so that while the sun, having finished its prescribed course, was setting for them, the light of the lamp refulgent from the pillar permanently remained without any change, and without any hesitation took the place of the solar rays. Who made the bitter and undrinkable water sweet by means of the wood, and transformed the rock into a spring for the thirsty, who
A exchanged earthly food for heavenly. Who in the divine darkness saw with the keenness of his mind the Invisible, and described the tabernacle not made by hands, and worthily contemplated the order of the priesthood. Who received the tablets made by God, and, having broken them, inscribed them anew; who, bearing on his face the signs of the divine power that had appeared to him, and by the radiance shining from him, as if by darts of rays, turned away the faces of those unworthy to meet him. Who by fire and by a chasm condemned those who rose up against the priesthood, and utterly destroyed those who were injurious toward the divine grace; who turned the sorcery of Balaam into piety. Whose end of life is reported to be most sublime. Who, having come to the summit of the mountain, left behind for the sun no trace, nor any memorial of earthly weariness. Who did not lose the character of his beauty through the passage of time, but preserved in his mutable nature that which is unalterable in goodness.
This is he who leads us in the fourth ascent, and who lifts up with himself him who has already become great through the three already traversed ages. For he who has arrived at this height stands, in a certain way, as a boundary between the mutable and the immutable nature, and mediates fittingly between the extremes; bringing B supplications to God on behalf of those who have been alienated by sin, and conveying the mercy of the superior power down to those in need of mercy. So that from this we might also learn that by as much as one departs from earthly and low-lying things, by so much the more does he draw near to the nature that surpasses all understanding; and he imitates the Divine by beneficence, doing that which is proper to the divine nature. I mean the doing of good to all who are in need of such doing, as much as they remain in need of beneficence.
I have understood the meaning of this psalm C of which the inscription is: « A prayer of Moses, the man of God. » For since the human race had been mastered by the evil of sin, and was severed from union with the Good, it was being stirred up by contrary passions, and was in need of some intercession, to call back the one who had the power to save it from destruction; the man of God takes on the role of an advocate, defending the fall of his kin, but also pleading with the Divine for the compassion of the lost. For immediately he reasons in a way before the One who hears, and says that what is fixed and immovable and always the same in every good pertains solely to God; but that the human state, existing in change and alteration, never abides in the same condition, D nor even if it should ascend toward the better, nor if it should fall from the participation of the better. For which cause he asks that the Unchangeable might become a refuge for salvation for the one who is wandering, throughout every generation.
A Thus indeed the words of the Psalm stand: "Lord, you have been a refuge for us from generation to generation." And why does he affirm this? Because, he says, you are before the creation, containing every interval of time, from whence the nature of time began, and unto what limit it will cease; for the limit of the unending is infinity. "Before," he says, "the mountains were brought forth, or the earth and the world were formed, even from age to age, you are." But the human race, on account of the mutability of nature, fell down from the height of all good to the abject and slippery condition of sin. B Therefore, he says, stretch out your hand, O you who are prone to no fall, to one who is stumbling; that which you are by nature, make this also for us; and do not cast him down from that height in which you abide, into the humility of sin. Afterward, having become as it were a minister of the voice of his Lord, he brings forth a sentence full of humanity, saying: "Because you said: Return, O sons of men"; by which voice a certain dogma is contained; for the discourse looks to our nature, and suggests a medicine for evils. For it says: Since you men, being exposed to change, have fallen away from the good, make use again of change toward that which is honest, and return by a reciprocal course to that from which you have fallen. Whereby it comes to pass that it is in the free faculty of men to persevere according to their own will in those things which they wish, whether they be good or bad. That which follows embraces another dogma: "For a thousand years in your eyes, Lord, are as the day of yesterday which has passed; and those which are held for nothing, their years shall be." What therefore is dogmatically taught to us herein? Namely, that to him who by repentance returns again to the good, even if his life be marked with infinite stains of crimes—such that that collection of sins seems to be of a thousand years—the whole of that heap is accounted for nothing with God in the case of one who has turned; C for the divine eye always sees the present, but does not reckon that which has passed; but it is judged by God as one day, or a part of our night, which has already passed and slipped by. But that which is present in wickedness, even if it is lightly esteemed as nothing by those who sin, is seen by God as a multitude of years. He says, therefore: "Those things which are held for nothing, their years shall be." And it is well and ingeniously that he calls sins "nothing"; because he who does evil is accustomed in a certain way to consider the sin committed as nothing, and to find certain apologies for each of the things that are done in wickedness, so that it is prompt for anyone in any evil committed to say: "Desire is nothing, and anger is nothing, and none of such things is anything." For these are movements of nature; but nature is the work of God.
Therefore A he says, that "what is held for nothing by them," if it continues in the will and purpose of the one acting, and does not pass away, is judged by the divine eye individually, as if it were a multitude of years. Again, he describes the transience of our nature in his discourse, so as to move God all the more to mercy. For he teaches by a clear example what we ought to consider the misery of our nature to be: namely, that it is nothing other than morning and evening—that is to say, youth and old age—living and flourishing together at the dawn, but nevertheless passing away. And after this, when the moisture of our age has been consumed, and the plant has shed its flower, and the beauty innate to it has faded, what remains is nothing other than drying out and withering. For thus says the Word: "Because in the morning it may bloom and pass away, in the evening it may fall, harden, and dry up." This B is human nature. In what follows, he further pities and deplores the human condition, saying that the life of men has been consumed by wrath, as if it were being tossed and agitated by some wind—the onset of fury. It is clear, moreover, that by "wrath" and "fury" he signifies the operation by which we depart and fall away from God, which brings an end to life for men; its disturbance is what brings rest to an end. Thus, the text runs: "For we have failed in thy wrath, and in thy fury we have been troubled." To these things he adds, in natural order, that it is not fitting for the spectacle of human wickedness to be set before God, nor ought our life, soiled by sins and transgressions, appear before that inviolate countenance. Thus does he speak in this wording, interpreting such a thought: "Thou hast set our iniquities before thee." As if someone, by adding the word "Why," were to make the discourse clearer, the sense of this passage would be: It is fitting for you to have beautiful things before your eyes, but iniquity is unworthy of being looked upon by you. Therefore, make men such that they may not be unworthy of your gaze; but let our life be worthy to be shown to you. Insofar as it pertains to the present state, "all our days have failed"; for that which is not in you, is not at all. For those over C whom the power and force of wrath prevail, lead a life that is shadowy and not at all subsistent, after the likeness of a spider's web. For just as that appears to be something as long as it has been knit together, but if someone thrusts out a hand, it immediately vanishes, dissolving at the touch of the fingers; so too does human life, always entangled in vain and inconstant pursuits, as if in certain airy threads, weave for itself a non-subsistent web—a web which, if someone were to take hold of it with a firm D disposition, would cause that vain pursuit to slip from his grasp, and it would vanish into nothing; for all things pursued in this life are [...end of page]
to those who are as spiders in their mortal existence, an empty opinion, and nothing subsisting. Honor, dignity, nobility of birth, pride, haughtiness, riches, and the like, are mere opinion, and not reality; for esteem is but vanity, and not a substance. Therefore, these things require the healing of God; for I believe this sentiment to be subject to that word: «For the days of our years in them are seventy years; but if in strength, eighty years; and the greater part of them is labor and sorrow.» Not that life is laborious for him who lives beyond this limit, but that the greater part of this short life is consumed in labor and sorrow. Infancy is labor, youth is toil, and man's mid-life is more than ever burdened with labors. Old age, especially through its very gray hairs and wrinkles, bears singular witness to the abundance of labor. B Again, he contemplates another means whereby the Divine Power might be propitiated toward men. The meaning of the words is this: The weight of our sins brings upon us a great punishment; yet the substance of our nature is so insignificant that it cannot contain the wrath which is deservedly brought on for our transgressions. But even if that which is brought upon us for punishment be mild and moderate, it will be sufficient for the correction and instruction of those who bear it patiently. If, therefore, the mildness of the retribution is sufficient for instruction and punishment, who shall endure the strength of His wrath? Or who shall be able to measure out the fear of His anger? C If, then, the magnitude of wrath is intolerable, but the action toward us is undertaken with benevolence and gentleness, «thus make known to us thy right hand,» that we may be capable of it, in wisdom and not in vengeance, since our correction proceeds from Thee. The meaning having been thus set forth, it will be consequent to render the divinely inspired words themselves, which are as follows: «For meekness has come upon us, and we shall be instructed. Who knows the power of thine anger, and can number thy wrath according to thy fear? So make thy right hand known to me, and those whose hearts are instructed in wisdom.» It is indeed beautiful that which is subjoined in order, since he says that we, on account of the weakness of our nature, cannot contain the magnitude of wrath that sin excites against us, and yet we are in need of correction; but let salvation rather correct and instruct us than the punishment inflicted upon our sins. Therefore, convert us, O Lord, without any delay interposed toward grace. For that word «how long» signifies the hastening of grace: «And be thou entreated for thy servants,» for, he says, Thou wilt not be reconciled to strangers, but to Thine own servants. Then, as if he had already obtained grace and had seen that light by which the darkness of those who wander in this life is illuminated, and from whence the day of virtue dawns, he says: «We were filled in the morning with thy mercy, and we rejoiced and were delighted.» For Thy grace succeeded the time D when we were held immersed in sins,
in Thee joy the time in the humiliation of sin, and the years of malice have passed away. For thus we understand that "for the days wherein Thou hast humbled us, for the years wherein we have seen evil." And thus he takes courage, naming as children of the works of God those who have been illuminated through repentance. "Look," he says, "upon Thy servants and upon Thy works." He points to the patriarchs around Abraham. For these are truly the works of God. "And direct the sons of them." For they who do the works of Abraham become children also of the patriarchs, being adopted into their kindred through virtue. Then in the last parts he joins the human to God through purity, praying that the brightness of God may shine upon our own life through a pure way of living. "Let," he says, "the brightness of the Lord our God be upon us," so that all the endeavors of our life may bear saving fruit, and that all things which we do may look toward one goal. For this reason, having spoken in the plural—that is, "And the works of our hands do Thou direct upon us"—he reduces the many into one work, adding, "And the work of our hands do Thou direct." For the various and manifold care of the virtues becomes A active B in the one who performs the right action. And this is the salvation of the one who attains it.
Thus at the fourth degree of the psalmic ascent, the Prophet, having raised the mind of those ascending with him, and having risen above all the vanity which is coveted by most in this life, demonstrates the spider-like, fleeting, and groundless deception of the material life, which leads those seduced and vainly deceived by it to no end that is good. C
CHAPTER VIII
Next, as to a supreme summit and the highest degree of contemplation, through the fifth part he leads one who is able to climb to such a height, having flown over the interweavings of the worldly "spiders" with a firm wing. For the vain and feeble, flying with a weak and languid flight—like flies that hover about the thin and slight things of this life—are entangled and bound, as if by certain nets, in the coating of such threads; I mean by pleasures, honors, and glories, and by various desires, being wrapped in certain spider-like webs, becoming prey and food for that beast which is wont to hunt through such things. But if anyone, eagle-like in nature, D looking more sharply toward the ray of light with an unwavering eye of the soul, and stretching himself toward the height, should happen upon such spider-webs, by the mere breeze of his swift wings and the rush of his flight, he dissipates and destroys whatever he encounters by the force of his pinions. The sublime Prophet, therefore, having taken up such a one with him to the height, above
establishes the peak of this fifth ascent, in which the complement and total sum of human salvation is contained. For in the part which precedes this, he philosophized much, through the mouth of Moses, concerning that which is mutable and that which is immutable; for the latter always remains, which is, but the former is always coming to be, which is not—for change is a transition from that in which something is, into that in which it is not. And having shown that by the same power, according to authority, nature flows away toward evil, and again through conversion is brought back to the good, so that it is possible for the splendor of God to shine again upon human life; now, he reveals in his discourse all the grace that comes to us from God, setting it in multiple ways before the eyes of those who contemplate the divine wonders from on high. For he was not satisfied to make the grace of God manifest in one way; rather, he exaggerates in many ways the miseries which we have created for ourselves through sin; and in like manner, he sets forth the divine aid by various means, so that we may return to the good, in order that, for the greatness of the benefits, we might also have various occasions for giving thanks, and that the act of thanksgiving toward God might become more abundant for such great gifts.
Statim enim ab exordio orationis ita canit: « Confitemini Domino, B quoniam bonus, quoniam in sæculum misericordia ejus. » By the name of confession he refers to the act of thanksgiving, not understanding it as a mere pronouncement of divine praises; for he bids us glorify God for his goodness alone: signifying by this, clearly, that whatever is good and salvific that comes to mortals from God has all come by his grace and goodness, when there was in us no cause for receiving it. On the contrary, when we were overwhelmed by every kind of wickedness, he himself in no way departed from his nature, but did what he is; for it is not fitting for him who is good by nature to act other than what he is by nature. « Let them say, » he says, « those who have been redeemed by the Lord, whom he redeemed from the hand of the enemy, and gathered them from the regions, from the rising of the sun and from the west, and from the north and from the sea. » The discourse announces the complete C and perfected return of the human race toward the good. For redemption signifies the leading back from captivity; and God gave as the price of redemption himself for those who were held captive by death, and gave it to him who had power over death. And since all were under the power of death, he redeemed all thence with this price, so that no one might be left under the empire of death after the general liberation of all. For it is not possible that anyone should be subject to death, when death has now been abolished and completely removed.
For this reason, the whole world being divided into four parts according to its location, the discourse leaves no part without a share of divine redemption. D
A For it says: “From the east and west, and from the north and from the sea,” by the sea indicating the southern region.
Having thus briefly set forth the beneficence of God poured out upon all mankind, the discourse thereafter explains, through certain artifices, the straying of men toward wickedness and the guidance of each person by God’s help back to the better way. It says as follows: “They wandered in the wilderness in a waterless land.” For they had abandoned, it says, the Way. The Way is the Lord. They wandered in the wilderness outside of God’s oversight, for it was entirely dry and moistureless, separated from the spiritual dew. B Therefore, wandering in this pathless place, they were unable to find the city of God, in which the dwelling-place of the worthy resides. For it says that “they found no city of habitation, hungry and thirsty.” For while their strength was failing from starvation, their wickedness was greatly intensifying and increasing. For whence could they have obtained nourishment in a parched and barren land? Whence could they have assuaged their thirst in a waterless C place? It is clear, however, that the prophecy does not mean bread by the name of food, nor water by the name of drink, but it calls the true nourishment "food," and that spiritual drink "drink." And the Lord becomes both of these, offering Himself appropriately to those in need; He becomes food for the hungry and a fountain for the thirsty.
What, therefore, was found to be the solution to such a difficulty—to the wandering, the wilderness, the misery of the waterless place, and the fainting produced by famine? O, the wonder! A single voice raised toward God in conversion turned all things for the better. “For they cried,” it says, “to the Lord when they were troubled, and He delivered them out of their necessities, and led them into a straight road, so that they might proceed to the city of habitation.” He calls the Lord Himself the Way, from which they had strayed. This Way also testifies in the Gospel that “no one comes to Me unless My Father wishes to draw him.” For this reason, God leads the wanderers onto the Way. D And this same One also becomes the city of habitation, just as the Apostle says: “In Him we live and move and have our being.”
Rightly does He bring in the exhortatory call to thanksgiving, so that those who have obtained these things might “confess to the Lord His mercies, and His wonders to the sons of men.” That is to say, let them not conceal the benefit in their ingratitude through silence, but let them proclaim the grace in thanksgiving, because He filled a soul that was empty of good things. For He satisfied, it says, “a hungry soul, and filled a hungry soul with good things.” Again, in another way, He brings the calamity of our nature before our eyes and praises the divine philanthropy and benevolence by which our nature is led toward better things; these are of the kind that He brings forward: Mortal
man departed from the light and bent toward sin, and was no longer in the uprightness of his original form, and was alienated from that which is truly life. For he says, "Those sitting in darkness and the shadow of death, bound in poverty and iron." Bound indeed, for he was unable to move away from evil, held fast by the weight of shackles. Poverty is a shackle upon what is good, like a certain iron band clamped around the heart. The cause of all these things was the disobedience to the divine law and the rejection of the counsel of the Most High. This is what he signifies when he says: "Because they provoked the words of God, and angered the counsel of the Most High." Following these, as is to be expected, come toil and the humbling of the life of such people. B Toil, because they were deprived of nourishment; humbling, because they did not wish to remain in the Most High. For he says, "Their heart was humbled in toils." And separation from power is nothing other than weakness; for who could be found to be a helper without power? Therefore he says: "They were weakened, and there was no one to help." But again, one voice transformed their calamities into prosperity: for he says, "They cried to the Lord when they were in tribulation, and He saved them from their necessities." He scatters the darkness, dissolves death, and breaks the bonds. For he adds: "And He brought them out of darkness and the shadow of death, and broke their bonds." Therefore, let this grace be proclaimed with joyful voices, since the inescapable guard of death, fortified with gates of bronze and iron bars, has been broken, just as the Prophet sings. For such was considered to be the power of death, until such violent force vanished at the arrival and presence of the true Life; since previously everything contained within it remained without danger of escape, as though held by iron bars and gates that knew not how to be broken. But, he says, "He shattered the gates of bronze, and broke the bars of iron." This, of course, is what it means to remove the path of their iniquity and to conform their life to the norm of piety; for what is the abolition of those gates other than a life established according to the prescription of justice? For he says: "He took them from the path of their iniquity." C Again in another way he represents human misery to us in his discourse, and affirms that iniquity is nothing else than humiliation and abjection. And rightly so. For another prophet's oracular word supports this opinion, when he says, "iniquity sits upon a talent of lead," showing clearly that malice is a certain weight, which by its own nature tends downward and into the depths, and draws other [things downward] with it: for he says: "For because of their iniquities they were humbled." And through...
A this, they turned away from that omnipotent food, concerning which the Word says to the first parents: "Of every tree that is in the paradise, you shall eat for food." For just as there He calls every tree the fullness of every good, so here the Word calls "every food" that true and omnipotent food, the turning away from which produces the weakness that ends in death. He speaks as follows: "Their soul abhorred every food, and they drew near to the gates of death." And again, a voice directed to God turns the calamity into a festival. "For they cried," he says, "to the Lord in their being afflicted, and He saved them from their distresses." And he narrates the manner of salvation; and the telling is plainly the Gospel. B "For He sent," he says, "His Word, and healed them, and rescued them from their corruptions." Do you see the living and ensouled Word being sent for the salvation of those who are perishing, and delivering from corruption him who was stuck in corruption? What evangelist so clearly proclaims the mystery? Therefore, he says, let the grace not go unpraised by those who have been treated well, and let the thanksgiving become a hymn for the benefits. "For let them sacrifice to Him," he says, "a sacrifice of praise, and let them recount His works in exultation."
After this, he again arranges the sufferings, and again, following the sufferings, he brings in the grace of God. He describes the thoughtlessness of men, that by abandoning the stable and unstormy life, they became "oceanic" in their choice. "For those who go down," he says, "into the sea in ships," and instead C of working the paradise in which they were previously stationed, they made their working a submerged thing. By "sea" he means this material life, which is stirred up by all the winds of temptations and tossed by the waves of successive passions. For "doing," he says, "work on many waters. They themselves saw the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep." For having become deep-sea dwellers in the wickedness of life, and having often suffered the shipwrecks of the soul, they saw in themselves the works of the philanthropy of Him who saved us from the depths. "For He spoke," he says, "and the spirit of a storm stood." And this meaning must be referred not to God, but to the enemy. For the voice of the adversary creates the "spirit of the storm." A storm, or squall, is called a violent wind D not blowing in a straight line, but coiling upon itself through a sharp whirlwind, which as soon as it falls violently upon the water, just like some
A great rock thrown into the water, the sea, being pressed down by the weight, is broken by necessity by the force of the wind, wherever the wind, having descended with pressure, falls, casting up the water on both sides to the height. For this reason he clearly adds, describing the fearful things, that together with the onset of the spirit of the storm, "the waves of the sea were lifted up," rising even to the heavens and descending even to the abysses. For truly the rising of such waves into the height—I mean the waves of the passions—becomes the cause of the descent into the abyss. And we have learned that "abyss" in many places of Scripture signifies the dwelling-place of demons. But those who are agitated by this disturbance and by the stormy surge of the waves become distraught through darkness B because of the insolence of such a voyage, laboring in their heads as if from drunkenness. For He says: "They were troubled and moved like a drunken man." But those who have once fallen out of the power of their mind have no counsel left for salvation, but all their wisdom as if suffers shipwreck and perishes. Therefore he says that "all their wisdom was swallowed up." And again, even for those who are struggling in such great evils and are living in inextricable calamity, a single voice sent to God brings salvation: for He says, "They cried to the Lord when they were troubled, and He brought them out of their necessities." And immediately that storm was changed into a favorable and navigable breeze C and the sea is calmed from the waves, being made level and peaceful through silence. "He turned his storm," he says, "into a breeze, and its waves were silent." Perhaps by the word "silence" he indicates that the waves are nothing other than certain appetitive faculties, by which he indicates the nature that is deserting and accustomed to revolt, to which the Lord said in the Gospel: "Be silent, be muzzled." He calls the grace of the spirit a "breeze," which by right thoughts, as if with a mast, brings the soul to the divine harbor, with reason holding the rudder and directing the voyage. For He says, "He led them to the harbor of their will." Having finished these things, he again commands the grace to be celebrated by the people and the Church, D all but describing the present state of the Churches, when he says that these wonders of God are sung in the seat of the leaders, through which faith is confirmed in the souls of the hearers. For he adds: "Let them exalt him in the church of the people, and let them praise him in the seat of the elders." And he adds the causes of the thanksgiving, that from God rivers, some arise, while others perish. For the streams of malice disappear, but the outlets of the virtues irrigate the places that were hitherto scorched by heat. "He set," he says, "rivers into the desert, and outlets of waters into the thirst." He calls "rivers" the influxes of the passions,
A when humans accumulate evils upon evils and, connecting them like a river, extend and prolong the track of wickedness. Furthermore, he says that he also turned the fruitful land into salt, for the soul that is fertile in evils, when it is transformed, becomes also thirst-stricken, being seasoned with the divine salt of doctrine so that wickedness might no longer grow in those who dwell there, being nourished by the wicked influxes of waters. But he teaches that the salt-sprinkled and thirst-stricken soul, which has taken up that blessed thirst, becomes a pool, surging with the gathering of virtues. "For he set," he says, "the desert into pools of waters, and the waterless land into outlets of waters." And this becomes a city, which those who hunger for righteousness inhabit. For no one who is sea-sick and devoid of appetite becomes a neighbor to such a pool and such waters, bringing along a soul filled with wickedness. "And they sow the fields and plant the vineyards." By these enigmatical terms he signifies the divine commandments and the life of virtue. For the commandment is the seed of the future harvest. Virtue is the vineyard, which through rational clusters pours out wine into the bowl of wisdom. B And these are nothing else but a multitude of blessings. "For he blessed them," he says, "and they were multiplied greatly, and he did not diminish their cattle." He calls "cattle" the submissive service of the movements of the soul, whenever each of the good things within us is useful for virtue. Anger is a good beast of burden when it becomes the yoke-mate of reason. Desire is another such beast of burden, in a certain way carrying and bearing the soul on its back, and lifting it on high when the reins of the mind are directed toward things above. And all the other cattle are increased by the blessing when our service through them is directed toward great things. Then he makes a summary of all that has been said in the following discourse. For having gone through the passions C in many ways, and having placed the divine benefits before our eyes, now once again he recapitulates briefly in his discourse. In which he says, "And they were few, and were vexed by the tribulation of evils and pain." By the word "few" he signifies the shortness and the constriction that occurred from height and magnitude to the lowly state. For "few" signifies the most brief in concept. By "vexation" he signifies the intimacy with evil. And by "tribulation and pain," he everywhere speaks of the end of the falling away from good things, as he goes through such a thing in another Psalm, saying: "The pangs of death encompassed me. The dangers of hell found me [v. 55]. I found tribulation and pain." Having called sins "pangs of death" and "dangers of hell [v. 56]," he adds the end to which the nature of sin terminates; which is nothing else but tribulation and pain; so that by the Gospel through "weeping and gnashing," D "they were few" (for "few," or "a little," with its notion signifies the shortest duration). By the word "vexed," "they were afflicted with evils," he signifies the habituation with evil and the approach to it. By "tribulation and pain" he understands the consummate end, which accompanies secession from the good; which he affirms in another Psalm, bringing forward a similar thing with these words: "The sorrows of death encompassed me, the dangers of hell found me. I found tribulation and pain"; since the sorrows of death
A designate the same thing, the end in which the nature of sin terminates, which is nothing other than tribulation and pain; this very thing is hinted at in the Gospel by "weeping and gnashing of teeth." He adds then: "An outpouring of contempt is upon their princes," and a sort of B annulment.
By these things He teaches that to be in Him who is, is truly to be. But if anyone has fallen from Him who is, he is not in being. For to be in sin is not properly to be, because malice itself in itself and according to itself is not being, since malice is a privation and a non-existence of good. Just as, therefore, he who is in Him who is, is in being, so he who has come to be in nothingness (for such is malice) has been brought to nothing, as the Word names it. And such a use of the word has been somewhat worn by the habit of those who use it. As we say that food received into flesh becomes flesh, and wine poured into water becomes water, and iron in fire is set aflame: so also he (58) who has fallen from Him who is, having come to be in nothingness, is brought to nothing. Therefore, the annulment is a non-existence in the good. And this, having come upon the authors of malice, that is, upon the first humans, was poured out, just like a pernicious stream, even upon the succession of those who followed. Since, therefore, nature was bereft of such a gift—of life, I mean—and man became poor by the robber, having been despoiled of the divine blessing, for this reason He says that He "helped the poor from poverty." For by His poverty we have become rich. And the good shepherd placed them, in place of the wild beasts, as "sheep of the family." By family He names the gathering and collection of the C accounts that lead to the obtaining of the divine power, just as Paul also testifies: "From whom every family in heaven and on earth is named." He then adds: "The upright shall see and shall fear," explaining through what has been said that he who is upright, looking toward this philanthropy, should fear. For fear is no small guardian of good things, by the memory of past events moderating him who has come to be in a passion toward future outcomes; and as this fear prevails and banishes all the ease toward evil that is introduced in us through laxity, "Every iniquity," he says, "shall stop her mouth." How blessed is that life D in which the mouth of iniquity, like some fountain of mire, shall be stopped for eternity, no longer polluting human life with its stench. This is the pinnacle of all good things, the head of all hopes, the end of all blessedness: that nature is no longer troubled by malice, but that all iniquity is banished far away; and this will be none other than the very inventor of iniquity. For this collective word, "every," signifies this; the way shall be stopped
A by which death first provided matter for mankind. When, therefore, all that is opposed to the good has been taken away, then there will receive us that state which no speech can explain, which is said to surpass both sense and understanding in the Holy Scriptures. To all these, as if it were a seal, he attaches these final words: "Who is wise, and will keep these things, and shall understand the mercies of the Lord?" For since the activity of wisdom is twofold, the one being inquisitive and searching for what is useful, and the other protective of what has been found; the one task of wisdom, the inquisitive one, he wishes should cease at that time. For to what end shall we use investigation when the object of our search is present? Only one task B remains, so he commands, that the good which has been acquired may be guarded, with wisdom helping us towards this very thing. But what is this wisdom, and what is the guardianship of good things? It is to not be senseless regarding the divine philanthropy. For he who understands what he has attained would not cast away the good of which he has been judged worthy. But he who is senseless regarding grace will suffer the same fate as the blind, who, having taken a pearl or an emerald or some other precious stone in their hands, cast it away as if it were some common C pebble, being involuntarily deprived of the possession through ignorance of the beauty that is in such a thing.
CAPUT IX.
These, therefore, are the fivefold divisions of the Psalms, which, as if they were certain steps rising above one another, we have distinguished according to a certain sequence of order from the signs mentioned previously, because the final word of each section has a certain station of discourse D and a basis of thought, circumscribing within itself the end of what has preceded, by means of that doxological and grateful word which says: "Blessed be the Lord for ever; let it be, let it be." For the meaning of these words is a certain thanksgiving which remains forever; since the Word, not content with having said "Let it be" once and having finished the praise, doubles the word, and by the iteration of the same word insinuates and confirms the perpetuity of the thanksgiving. Furthermore, in each part of these divisions, the Word has perceived a certain proper good, through which blessedness comes to us from God, according to a certain order which is observed in each of those goods, always directing the soul to higher things, until it arrives at the supreme good of all. This, however, which will be common to everyone, is nothing other than the celebration of divine praise, which will be completed in all the saints, just as the final psalm contains, saying: "Praise God in his saints," where also "the firmament of his power" signifies an immutable constancy in the good: the principalities
A show forth. When the human power at last advances, according to the greatness of His magnitude, to perform praise, uttering no longer small things, but already surpassing the trumpets in loudness—for it says, "Praise the Lord with the sound of the trumpet"—it also imitates the harmony of the whole, by the manifold and multiform variety of the virtues, having become an instrument in the rhythm of melody to God. And the Word calls this, by a certain figurative sense, a "psaltery and harp." After its modulation, putting aside everything that is earthly, mute, and devoid of voice, it joins the sound of its own strings with the heavenly choirs in the magnificent singing of the drums. The strings stretched on the instrument would be nothing other than that firmness implanted in each virtue, by which it is unable to be bent or swayed toward wickedness. By these, the beautiful union of the cymbal mixed with the strings is brought about, when the sound of the cymbals stirs the readiness for the divine choir. This seems to me to interpret the connection of our nature with the angels, in that it says, "Praise the Lord with well-sounding cymbals." For such a union—I mean of the angelic to the human—when human nature has been restored to its (original) ancient lot, will produce that sweet sound through the mutual encounter of thanksgiving; and through one another, and with one another, it will keep singing the thanksgiving for the loving-kindness rendered to God. B For the union of cymbal to cymbal indicates this. One cymbal is the supramundane nature of the angels; the other cymbal is the rational creation of men. But sin separated this from that; when, therefore, the loving-kindness of God shall again join both to one another, then both, having become together, will sound that praise, as the great Apostle says: "That every tongue shall confess, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth, that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Which having happened, the sound of these cymbals will shout a song of victory, becoming through the common concord at the annihilation of the Enemy. And he being utterly destroyed and brought to nothing, praise and hymn will be unceasingly rendered to God from every spirit, with equal zeal and effort, for all eternity. For since "praise is not beautiful in the mouth of a sinner," and there will be no sinner then, all sin being removed, it is entirely fitting that every spirit who is in that age should praise the Lord. C Such, then, is the way to blessedness demonstrated to us by this sublime philosophy in the Psalms
A which ever leads those who strive to attain the summit of perfection by its guidance toward greater and higher pursuits of virtue, that man may reach that state and measure of blessedness beyond which our thought may not advance, not even by way of conjecture or surmise; for beyond this, the mind can find nothing further, either by reasoning or by inferring one thing from another. But even the motion of our hope, which in every way anticipates and runs ahead of the course of our desire, falls idle once it encounters things that cannot be expressed by any likeness; for that which is above this is better than all hope—a fact which the philosophy of the Psalms, through the order we have already examined, confirms. In the first of its discourses, it opens to us, as if it were a door or an entrance to the blessed life, the withdrawal from evil. B For the first words of the Psalter teach this, stating that the beginning of blessedness is the alienation from evil. Next, by offering guidance out of the Law to those who are wandering, and by promising through such a life a resemblance to the ever-flourishing tree, and by pointing out the miseries of those who turn to the opposite way, it leads through successive ascents to the highest point of blessedness the one who follows this guidance. The meaning of the final Psalm indicates this to you, in which, after the complete destruction of wickedness, all that exists will be holy, and all will harmonize in praise of God, as it possesses equally in the firmament of virtue both an immutability toward evil and, by its greatness, C joins our sound like a majestic trumpet; when all creation, both the things above and all those below, shall be brought together into one chorus, and the intellectual nature, which is now divided by sin, shall produce that sweet sound resulting from mutual symphony like a cymbal; when our nature shall agree with the angelic nature, and the divine host, having been recalled from this confusion, shall chant openly and in the sight of the enemies the song of victory to the victorious Lord. Then the praise of every spirit will extend the grace for all time, and by increasing, will enlarge the blessedness into the eternal—that blessedness, I say, which is truly blessedness, concerning which, if one wishes to attain it by conjecture, reason falters, and the very faculty of hoping that is in us falters as well. But there succeeds that ineffable and incomprehensible state, better than every thought, D which "no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man." For thus did the divine Apostle define the good things reserved in that most holy state.
BOOK TWO. TRACTATUS SECUNDUS. CAPUT PRIMUM.
A Having explained these matters in this way, it seems the time demands that we also institute a discourse concerning the inscriptions, which contribute no small momentum toward virtue, as one may gather from the meaning underlying these inscriptions. It would, however, be necessary first to enter upon a certain systematic method for the inscriptions themselves, before we embark upon the consideration of the Psalms themselves, so that it may be as clear as possible to us that the end of this divinely inspired teaching is none other than to lead the soul toward true blessedness.
Therefore, some of the Psalms lack an inscription altogether; others, indeed, have the Prophet’s inscription among us, but do not have it among the Hebrews. For others, the inscription consists solely of the name “David.” For others, something else is written alongside the name, either “a praise,” or “a song,” or “a thanksgiving,” or “a psalm,” or “of understanding,” or “a prayer,” or “of the going out of the tabernacle,” or “of dedication,” or “of ecstasy,” or “for a memorial,” or “for confession,” or “to the servant of the Lord,” or “to Idithum,” or “to Eman the Israelite.”
In others, the inscription is formed by a certain mutual connection and conjugation of names and words of this kind: for instance, either “a song of a psalm,” or “a psalm of a song,” or “a song,” or “a psalm,” or “in hymns a psalm,” or “in hymns of understanding,” or “a prayer of David,” or “a prayer of the poor,” or “a praise of a song,” or something similar joined to the name of David takes the place of an inscription. C Again, in others, some other things are also inscribed along with these, pre-eminently that which is “unto the end.” And there are various and different things written with this expression, for it adds: “concerning those who shall be changed,” or “concerning the hidden things,” or “concerning the inheriting one,” or “concerning the eighth,” or “concerning the winepresses,” or “concerning the morning help,” or “concerning Maheleth,” or “concerning the people who have been removed far from the sanctuary,” or “do not destroy,” or “for an inscription on a pillar,” or both of these together; or “for Solomon,” or “a song concerning the beloved,” or “concerning the hidden things of the son,” or “for confession.” D Or some circumstance from history and events is added. For example, that which says, “when he was in the cave,” or “when in the wilderness,” or “when Saul sent to kill him,” or “concerning the words of Chusi,” or “when he changed his countenance before Abimelech,”
A or “when the Ziphites came,” or “when Doeg the Edomite came and told Saul,” or “in the days when the Lord delivered him from the hand of all his enemies, and from the hand of Saul,” or “when Joab returned and struck the valley of salt, twelve thousand,” or “when Nathan the prophet came to him when he went in to Bathsheba.” And some of the psalms have as an inscription the Hebrew “Alleluia,” either inscribed once or twice; and on others, the names of certain prophets are written together with that inscription. For example, “Alleluia of Haggai and Zechariah,” and “Alleluia of Jeremiah and Ezekiel.” And again, there is another kind of inscription, such as “To the sons of Korah,” or “To Idithum,” or “To Asaph”; but to one uniquely, by special excellence, it is inscribed: “A prayer of Moses, the man of God.” B Regarding those which, according to the ecclesiastical tradition, have inscriptions, but among the Hebrews are without inscriptions, we find this distinction: for in some, a certain number of the days of the week is denoted, such as “the first of the Sabbath,” or “the fourth of the Sabbath,” or “unto the day of the Sabbath,” or “before the Sabbath.” Others have some other rationale for their inscriptions, which is kept entirely silent among the Hebrews.
CHAPTER II
C Since this classification of the inscriptions has been clarified for us, it would be useful first to provide a more general interpretation of those that have similarities, and then, as the order requires, to turn the discussion to those that appear to be more diverse. Generally speaking, therefore, the rationale of the inscription has a twofold purpose: for it is either written in advance for the indication of the subject matter, so that having been instructed beforehand in the purpose of the psalmody, we might become more teachable regarding the meaning contained in the verses; D or often the inscription itself instructs the hearer, by indicating through the sentiment subject to the words something achieved remarkably through virtue. Or rather, the purpose of both modes and forms of inscriptions is one and the same: namely, that they might direct and lead us toward what is good and virtuous; and something sought from history seems to be indicated even when only a bare name has been inscribed. For divine Scripture does not use these historical narrations solely that we might gain knowledge of past events and learn what the ancients did or endured, but that it might deliver to us a discipline for ordering our lives according to the rule of virtue, and thus the mention of history may be referred to a certain higher consideration. Since, therefore, it is agreed by the consensus of all that such an estimation of Scripture must be held, it follows that, as we have said before, for those which are similar, a more general...
explanation ought to be provided, whereas for those that differ from one another in some respect, a more specific and particular examination should be undertaken.
B Since, therefore, the expression "In the end" is inscribed upon most of the psalms, I believe that we should understand about it that which the understanding of others who have interpreted the same Scripture clarifies. For one person, instead of "In the end," says "To the Victor"; another says "Epinikion" (Song of Victory); another, "Unto victory." Since then, the end of every contest is victory, toward which those who strip for competition look when they engage in the struggle, it seems to me that through this term "the end," the Discourse, in a brief expression, rouses to zeal those who contend in the stadium of this life through the virtues, that by looking toward the "end"—which is victory—they might lighten the toil in their struggles through the hope of the crowns. C This is something we see happening now in competitions as well. For the crown, displayed in advance to those about to grapple and join hands in the wrestling arenas, adds much strength and sharpens their diligence to obtain the victory, as the hardships to be endured in that conflict are greatly diminished by the expected glory. Since, then, the stadium is open to all for competition (and the stadium is the common life of men), in which there is one adversary, vice, which in many ways overthrows those who attempt to wrestle with it by its deceitful wrestling tricks, for this reason, the good Instructor of souls shows you beforehand the end of the sweat and labor, and the ornament from the crowns, and the public proclamation of the victory; so that by looking toward that "end," you may lean upon the Victor and prepare for yourself the hymn of victory. Whatever other meanings and lessons follow from these for the discipline of virtue would surely be manifest to those who look toward the consequences from this beginning. D For it is clear that there are as many causes and handles for our enemies to fight against us, indeed, to overcome us, as there are disturbances of the soul, by which the reason of our soul is often dislocated like a limb, moved from its place, and frequently even cast out from its proper state, unless one, already trained through exercise and a legitimate method of fighting—as the Apostle says—has prepared for himself a safe way, free from stumbling in such contests, having attained the praise of victory, which is the end of every struggle.
Furthermore, the things that are inscribed alongside the expression "In the end" are certain instructions and counsels for victory, by which our effort and zeal might prosper. For both that which says, "For those who shall be changed," and that which says, "For Maeleth," which others render as "For the dance," and that which says, "To look upon the arcana," and "For the beloved..."
B and "To sing for the morning reception," and "To have the Eighth before the eyes," and "To look upon the one who inherits," and "How we might be outside the kinship of Core," and that great voice of David, "Do not destroy," which he uttered to his armor-bearer when he was rushing to the slaughter of Saul, to be inscribed C in the soul of each as an example of patience, the discourse contributes. And one would find all such things, if he examined them with precision, to be certain athletic exhortations made by the trainer to the athletes, so that one might reach the hoped-for end of victory. Likewise, if anything from history is inscribed alongside the expression "Unto the end," it looks to this same thing, so that we might be strengthened for the struggles all the more through the historical examples. This, then, is the meaning of "Unto the end."
CHAPTER III
But psalm, and canticum, and praise, and hymn, and prayer, have such a difference among themselves: D For a psalm is melody by way of a musical instrument; but a canticum is the utterance of song made through the mouth together with words. But prayer is a petition brought to God concerning something beneficial to us. And a hymn is an eulogy rendered to God for the goods present to us. And praise, or lauding (for the meaning is the same for both), contains the celebration of divine miracles; for exaltation in praising is nothing other than the intensity of praise. But often these are interwoven with one another in the inscriptions through some conjunction, so that the two become one through the interweaving. For it is said either "Psalm of a canticum," or "Canticum of a psalm," or "In hymns a psalm," or, as we have learned from Habacuc, "Prayer with a canticum."
But the understanding by which we are led to virtue by these inscriptions is of this kind: The psaltery is a musical instrument that produces sound from the upper parts of its construction. And the musical performance of such an instrument is called a "psalm." Therefore, from the very figure of the construction, an admonition to virtue arises for us, since it desires your life to be a psalm, not resounding with earthly tones—and by tones I mean thoughts—but producing a sound that is pure and easy to be heard, and woven together from things above and heavenly. But when we hear "canticum," we are taught by an enigma that the honorableness of life must be manifested in our actions. For just as with musical instruments only the melody falls upon the ears, while the sung words themselves are not distinguished articulately by the tones; but in the canticum both occur: namely, the melody,
A and the power of the words 34 which is carried along with the melody, so that it is impossible that it should be unknown, just as it happens when the melody is produced by musical instruments alone. So it is also with those who pursue virtue 35. For those who direct their mind to the speculative and contemplative philosophy of existing things, bring to perfection a virtue that is hidden from the many, locking up the good within their own conscience. But those in whom the character of life is also diligently perfected alongside this, these men, through the seemliness of their outward conduct, publish abroad that rhythmic regularity of their own lives, as if by a certain discourse 37. When, therefore, the good is perfected through both—the moral philosophy having run alongside the contemplative—then it becomes a «Canticum psalmi» or a «Psalmus cantici». But when one of these is denoted by the praises on its own, then either the good situated in the mind 38 is signified by the «Psalm» alone, or the character and the seemliness of the outward conduct is interpreted through the «Canticum».
When, however, a «Hymnus» or «Laus» is joined with a «Canticum», it becomes a mandate that we should not venture to receive thoughts about God before we have made our life worthy of such boldness. For, it says, «Praise is not comely in the mouth of a sinner» 39. And to the sinner God said, «Why dost thou declare my statutes?» 40. In the same way, the «Prayer with song» 41 also suggests to us the same thing: that we should first be diligent regarding our life, so that one might not happen to be slothful 42 and discordant in his actions, and only then approach God through prayer. And it seems to me that the Lord intends to convey this very concept to those who said to Him, «Teach us to pray» 43, as if prayer does not consist in words, but in a life rightly ordered; when He says, «If you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you your sins» 44.
But when the word «Laus» (Ainesis) is placed as a heading by itself, C the subject matter contains a certain testimony of the one who offers praises to God; for to praise God is not for any other, but, he says, it is the «Laus» (Ainesis) of David, so that we might learn from this that if we should become like him, then we too shall receive the boldness to praise God.
But the «Psalm in hymns» D raises us to a higher state, which the divine Apostle also knew, as he testifies to the Corinthians when he 45 says that he himself prays in the spirit, and at other times with the mind 46. Therefore, the psalmody commingled with the mind declares that which we have previously handed down, namely, that what is
is manifest, and exposed to the sight of all, A to be more worthy than that which lies hidden, so that the canticle may be signified by such a thought. But the psalmody which is brought to perfection by the spirit alone demonstrates the excellent state of the saints, since that which is offered to God is better than all that which now shines forth in visible things. For the psalm is not in certain songs which explain the power of the subjects through words, but “In hymns,” he says, “is the psalm.” This, in my judgment, teaches us what must be understood by the name of hymn. For we learn that the sublime life, and to set one’s mind on things above, and to have our instrument hanging from heavenly and supernal B thoughts, this is the hymn of God—a life, namely, not made illustrious by the efficacy and splendor of words, but by that which is far superior to these. And when the word “understanding” is attributed to hymns, it seems to give counsel, so that we may not be ignorant and unskilled regarding the words which serve to chant the glory of God, lest perhaps by an unexamined and foolish impulse we conceive things about the divine majesty which are not at all fitting for it; such as, for instance, to think that for those who live according to God, their rewards are laid up in the happiness of this life, and to consider that to be good and right in the judgment C of God which seems to be such to human senses; and many such notions of this kind can be found, which are attributed to God by the ignorant in their conceptions about Him. But you need understanding to know those things about Him which, if attributed to Him, will bring no reproach. For that which truly makes for His praise is greater and more abstruse than that it can be discovered by human nature. But for us, it is not even permitted to know as much as we ought about what is so lovable and desirable regarding Him, since we must pursue things that are in no way similar. This is what we said must be D understood by the praise of David, namely, that it belongs to him alone to sing the praises of God. I judge that we must understand the same concerning “prayer,” when we hear, “A prayer of David,” as if it were necessary to model our own life on the norm of his life, so that we may acquire the right and freedom to pray to God. The same must be felt concerning that inscription: “A prayer of the poor man when he shall be in distress, and shall pour out his supplication before the Lord.” For we need a great ascent to God, so that we may be able to see of what we are in need; for we will not be moved to a desire for true goods unless we perceive our poverty in these matters. But prayer becomes vivid, and is greatly intensified and inflamed, when we know what we are in want of; and we are afflicted and distressed when the things we ask for are delayed. And thus our supplication is poured out, using rather the tears of the eyes instead of words.
A Thus you will also understand the phrase, "A Prayer of Moses the man of God," as though it were impossible for the human being to draw near to God through prayer in any other way, unless he departs from this world and becomes the man of God alone.
CHAPTER IV.
The inscription, "For those who shall be changed," seems to me to carry this meaning: that the divine nature alone is exempt from all conversion and change. For there is nothing to which it might apply change, as it is entirely incapable of evil; nor can it be transformed to that which is better, for there is no good in the face of which a change could befall it, since no higher good can be found beyond that which it possesses. But we humans, placed in change and alteration, become through those shifting powers both worse and better: worse when we fall away from the communion of good things, and better again when, through conversion, we attain to that which is better. Since, therefore, we have fallen into the evil of change, we are in need of a good change, that by its benefit we might be transferred to that which is better. And this is evident from the words which are appended: "For those who shall be changed." For the discourse does not merely persuade us that change must necessarily be undertaken, but also instructs us in some way how it may rightly come about, demonstrating that change for the better through certain examples.
C The wording of the inscription is as follows: "To the end, for those who shall be changed, in the inscription of a pillar for David to instruction, when he set fire to Mesopotamia of Syria and Syria of Zobah; and Joab returned and struck the Valley of Salt, twelve thousand." For it would be clear from what has been said that the discourse contains some doctrine and counsel, when it says, "In the inscription of a pillar for David for instruction." For the term "instruction" would not have been added if the limit of this whole discourse were not to teach. But the phrase "in the inscription of a pillar" indicates that this discourse ought to be carried about as something indelibly imprinted and engraved upon the memory, so that it may be like a pillar for the memory of our soul, and the things written upon this pillar are the examples of good things. And these are supplied to us by the fortitude and valor of the commander-in-chief of David’s army, by which a twofold disaster is inflicted upon the enemies, the one part being consumed by fire and the others dispatched by the sword. For Syria, which is situated between the two rivers, is consumed by fire, and the nation of the Syrians bordering upon it, and likewise the Valley of Salt, is ravaged, with many thousands slaughtered. But to desire to pursue the historical narrative with precision is perhaps long and superflu
superfluous. For what greater benefit would accrue to us by learning the exposition of what happened in succession? But for what purpose the riddle of historical memory serves, I think it better to set forth in a few words, so that such a
stela-inscription
may become an instruction for our own life. What, then, is it that I say? He called the whole race of men Syria, and divides this into two parts, marking each of them with its own characteristics: for one of them is called Mesopotamia of Syria, and the other is called Syria of Sobal; and both this and that are burned. B And after this, by the return of the commander-in-chief, the Valley of Salt is condemned to death with twelve thousand. Let us therefore understand that the form of Syria is twofold. For some are encompassed in a circle by the streams of Mesopotamia; and these would be those who are flowed around from all sides by passions and disturbances of the soul. But others are subject to Sobal, by which name is signified the tyranny and violent domination of the opposing power. Therefore, this would be for us the first way to change for the better, if by the cleansing fire this twofold nation of wickedness were destroyed: for just as virtue is characterized by life and reason, so also vice is observed to exist in these two; and the disorder of life, which, like the streams of passions, encompasses the soul in a circle, is called the middle of the rivers, but that which is subject to the prince of this world through evil doctrines is called Syria of Sobal; when these have been consumed by the cauterizing and cleansing word, it follows that the barren and salt-encrusted earth, which is the camp of the opposing powers, should be struck down by the blow of the commander-in-chief; for there would be no victory for us over the enemies unless the prince of the armies held out his hand. C And peace follows after the destruction of the enemies in accordance with the sequence; and this is the sequence of the victory, at which the inscription looks, engraving into our memories the instruction regarding the change, demonstrating through historical examples how we may be freed and liberated from the passions. Further, the discipline regarding change would become clearer to us if we followed the rest of the interpreters, some of whom wrote in the text"For the flowers,"
and others"For the lilies,"
instead of "For those who shall be changed." For the flower indeed indicates the change of winter into spring, which signifies the transition from wickedness to a life lived according to virtue. And the appearance of the lily instructs us as to what the change ought to be: for it is clear that he who has been made splendid by the change has been transmuted from a black and darkened form to a snowy one. Therefore, in every inscription which has"For those who shall be changed,"
this is to be accepted as a kind of proof...A from the Word: that it is necessary, through prayer and the diligent cultivation of life, to acquire this transformation for the better.
CHAPTER V
The inscription "For the hidden things" proposes to us a precise and diligent approach to the knowledge of God. For since the final fall of the soul is a false and aberrant belief about the Divine (for what benefit could one derive from any good, not possessing that Good itself?), the inscription puts before you, as a sort of lamp, the reasoning that searches out the hidden things of the knowledge of God, the head of which is faith in the Son. Thus states the inscription: "For the hidden things of the Son." For that which is truly hidden is what is incomprehensible and invisible, and exceeds every power of cognitive apprehension; he who approaches it through faith has truly attained the end of victory. The reasoning for the inscription "For those which inherit" is manifest. For the Prophet offers this supplication to God on behalf of the soul which has fallen from its own inheritance—when the sun set for her because she transgressed the command—so that in the morning B she may again put off the darkness and be made worthy of that sweet voice, which says to those on the right: "Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world."
Whoever understands the same reasoning as applying to "For the morning reception of help" will not miss the mark. For in common Scriptural usage, the term "morning" refers to the dawn. Now the dawn is the time that borders on night and day, in which the former ceases and the latter begins. But since Scripture often signifies malice through darkness, as if by a covering, it happens that when, assisted by divine aid, life instituted according to virtue arises for us, then we attain to victory, C "casting off the works of darkness, and walking properly as in the day," as the Apostle says.
The reasoning for the "Eighth" does not depart far from what has already been explained. For every labor which the cultivator of a virtuous life undertakes looks toward the age to come, the beginning of which is called the "Eighth," succeeding this sensible time which is concluded by the number seven. Therefore, the inscription "For the Eighth" advises us not to look toward the present time, but to look toward the Eighth. For when this flowing and mutable state of time, in which one thing is born and another perishes, ceases, and there is no longer need for things to be born and things to be dissolved, then D the hoped-for resurrection [reaches] toward another...
A condition of life, our nature being transformed; and the transitory nature of time shall cease, with the activity pertaining to birth and decay no longer existing. It shall stand firmly in every way, and the week which measures out time shall come to an end, and that Eighth [day] shall succeed it, which is the age to come, being altogether one day, as one of the prophets says, naming the hoped-for life a “great day” (Joel II, 11). Since it is not the visible sun that illuminates that day, but the true light, the Sun of righteousness, who is termed “the Dayspring” (Zach. VI, 12) by the prophecy, because He is never obscured by settings.
The same meaning is also B understood in the inscriptions “For the winepresses.” For the winepress is a place of work for wine, in which, when the clusters of grapes are crushed, wine is produced. But if the wine flows out from rotten or unripe bunches, it immediately becomes worthless and unfit for drinking, altered into a certain foulness or also into a vinegary quality, and changed by some other kind of corruption into the generation of worms. But if the cluster is noble and mature when it is placed in the winepress, the wine of the clusters will flow out, sweet and fragrant, increasing over a long time in quality and fragrance. What, then, does this enigma intend to convey regarding the cluster, as much as possible? So that the storehouse of the human mind may be enriched for us; for hope is the storehouse in which all the preparation of our life is contained. And thus the nature of the bunches would become evident to us, if first the branches appeared, and the vine that contains both the clusters and the branches. But this will become clear from the words of the Lord, who said: “I am the vine, C you are the branches” (Joan. XV, 5). For if we are truly in Him, rooted, bearing fruit, and growing, as the Apostle says (Ephes. III, 17; Coloss. II, 7), we shall understand through what has been said that we, who have been created in Him and who are of no account without Him (if indeed we are reached by the dew that nourishes us), are required to produce the cluster of works, not one that is turning sour and astringently bitter through anger, nor one that is corrupted and dissolved through some pleasure into putrefaction. For in the winepress of each person’s soul (and the winepress is the conscience), the cluster of works will store up for us wine for the life to come. And there is every need for each to be filled with his own labors, of whatever sort they may happen to be. How blessed, indeed, are those laborers whose wine gladdens the heart of man when it is enjoyed! But miserable, on the contrary, and worthy of tears are those whose wine—in accordance with the saying of Moses—becomes “the bile and anger of dragons” (Deut. XXXII, 32, 35), having changed into a deadly quality, bringing forth destruction from the Sodomitic vine. When, therefore, you turn your eyes toward the Eighth, the
memory, he says, of the winepresses, so that through good works the presses may, in the words of the proverb, overflow with the best and most fragrant wine.
CHAPTER VI.
The inscription, “For Maeleth,” as more clearly rendered by those who have expressed this word in the Greek language, provides a certain alacrity to those contending in the stadium of virtues, while it shows what the end of the contests is, asserting that choruses and dances, and joys are set before the victors. For we find that expression translated to this meaning; for the word *Maeleth* is the same as “by means of a chorus” or “dancing,” a kind of thing which we know from historical records to have existed after the victory of David, when, after he had just as a youth laid low Goliath in single combat, the young maidens poured out in choruses B and celebrated the labors he had undertaken in that fight. By the same reasoning, the inscription “For Maeleth” teaches that every victory won from enemies by sweat and labor is received with joy and choral dancing, when every creature that partakes of reason, as if in a choral harmony, accommodates and attunes itself to the victors. For there was a time when the chorus of the rational creature was one, looking toward one leader of the chorus, and unfolding the chorus according to the harmony and consonance supplied from thence to it by the C command. But after sin intervened and dissolved that divine choral harmony, and because of the deceit placed under the feet of the first parents—who had been dancing together among the angelic powers—it caused a fall, whence man was torn away from that fellowship with the angels, by that fall dissolving the connection; for this reason, there is need of much sweat and labor for the fallen man, so that by overcoming and overthrowing him who now lies upon him after his fall, and by acting bravely, he may receive, in place of a reward, the divine choruses for the victory won from the adversary. D When, therefore, you hear the inscription which adds the words “For Maeleth” to the words “To the end,” then know that a counsel is being given to you as if by an enigma, not to succumb in the conflicts of temptations, but to look to the end of the victory, which is to be numbered among the angelic choruses; and to think that your soul is being purified by the pressure of temptations, which we have learned from the Lord himself also happened to Lazarus, who, while he preserved himself unharmed and exempt from a fall during the whole course of his life through the patience of calamities,
A immediately found himself among the angels. For it says: "It came to pass that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels." This is the choral dance, the journeying with the angels; and the bosom of the patriarch, which receives Lazarus, is not itself conceived as being outside this joyful symphony. For whoever, upon hearing of "the bosom," understands it as a sort of vast expanse of sea—the fullness of all good things—as the patriarch was named, would not be wrong, within which Lazarus also finds his place. For of those who have shone forth in similar contests, nothing is the private property of any one person, but the good becomes common to all, to all, I say, who through the same virtue have run toward an equal good.
B But the inscription that has "The Departure of the Tabernacle" and, again, "For the Dedication of the House of David" are neighbors to each other in both position and meaning. For one is in the twenty-eighth [psalm], and the other is in the one that follows it. The wording in each case is as follows: in the case of the former inscription, "A Psalm of David, of the departure of the tabernacle"; in the one that follows, "A Psalm of a song of the dedication of the house of David." For unless we depart from the sensible tabernacle, our true house is not dedicated. And what is said means something of this sort: two lives are conceived in human nature—one being the carnal life, which is active through the senses, and the other the spiritual and incorporeal, which is achieved by the intelligent and immaterial life of the soul. But it is not possible for these two to exist simultaneously in participation. For the zeal expended upon one of these produces the deprivation of the other. Therefore, if we intend to make the soul a dwelling place for God, it is necessary to depart from the carnal tabernacle. C For there is no other way for our house to be dedicated by Him who renews us through His own indwelling, unless the "departure of the tabernacle" be accomplished through the alienation from the carnal life and the flight from the pleasures of the body, and be legitimately instituted.
The psalm of "Ecstasis," which is placed after the dedication, to which this inscription is prefixed, "To the end, a Psalm of David, of ecstasis," D is in harmony with what has already been considered, counseling us to stand apart from those things whose connection is full of danger.
And to those which have prefixed to them, "In remembrance," the Word proposes to us a certain brief instruction regarding our salvation. For since the disobedience of the divine commandment became to men the road to ruin (for we would not have perished if we had kept the commandment in our memory, because
A this as an antidote to the suffering caused by forgetting is proposed to us: the remembrance of the commandment, and this he does in two psalms.
Where the word "confession" is added, we are taught by the voice: Since in the custom of Scripture the meaning of "confession" is twofold, at one time indicating the declaration of sins that we have committed, and again thanksgiving, here we are guided by both meanings toward a life lived according to virtue. For confession brings about both separation from and alienation from evils, while the readiness to give thanks increases grace and the goodwill of the benefactor toward those who receive blessings with a mindful and grateful heart. Therefore, the psalm with the title "For confession" is proposed in this way: if the memory of sin burns within you, it advises the purification that comes through repentance. And if your life is succeeding toward what is better, it makes your choice in the good B firm and stable through thanksgiving to the Divine.
The title "column inscription" and "Do not destroy," whether written together or separately on certain psalms, contain advice concerning the virtue of long-suffering. For "Do not destroy" is the voice of David, when he forbade his armorbearer to use the blow against Saul. The understanding of the "column inscription" is that one must have such an expression engraved upon the memory of the soul as if on a column, so that when similar circumstances might stir our anger toward the retaliation of one who has offended us, by reading in our mind the command that forbids murder, we ourselves might C calm our anger toward long-suffering. A more accurate analysis of these matters we shall discuss at another time, when we return to the consideration of the remaining titles.
CHAPTER VII
For we must also understand what the word "Alleluia" signifies, which serves as a title for many of the psalms. "Alleluia," then, is a mystical exhortation, rousing the hearing to the chanting of God's praises, so that its meaning is such that it is "Praise the Lord." For in those parts of the Holy Scripture where this voice is added saying "Praise the Lord," it is signified in the Hebrew Scriptures by "Alleluia." Or perhaps this expression makes known more clearly D the power of the underlying psalmody, saying that it is a praise of God. For variedly from different words according to a certain symbolic meaning, the divine nature is made manifest in the Hebrew sounds; one of the significant
A names regarding the names of God among the Hebrews is said to be "ia," while "alleluia" is understood as a praise. And do not be surprised if the shape of this utterance indicates what is called the nominative case in the name. For verbs are not fashioned according to our practice among the Hebrews, but there is a different pattern of pronunciation of names among them than among us. Thus, for example, the name of the prophet which we, adapting to our own pattern, call "Elias," the Hebrew tongue in the nominative case calls "Eliou." So it is here too, when they wish to signify praise in the nominative case, the Hebrew tongue names it "Alleluia." Since, however, praise has its reference entirely to God, and "ia" is one of the names that declare the divine nature, the whole phrase "Alleluia" is interpreted as a praise of God. When, therefore, this word is written before a psalm, it should be understood as meaning that what follows must B necessarily be led up to the glorification of God. In this way, also, most of these inscriptions are found especially in the last parts of the Book of Psalms, from which it is possible to understand that for those who have already attained to the height of a life of virtue, and who have been purified through the preceding parts of the psalmody according to the interpretation handed down regarding them, it is fitting to praise God; and to be in those realms in which the nature of the angels is believed to be. For we have learned neither of any other occupation for them other than praising God, nor is anything else sought by those who are perfect in virtue, than to make their own life, as it were, a perpetual praise of God. Since, therefore, all those which bear the inscription "Alleluia" are found almost entirely in the last section of the C psalmody, it is clearly to be understood that the last section of the psalmody stands above every high ascent through the psalms, as that in which the greatest part is the praise of God, or an exhortation to celebrate the praises of the divine Deity.
CHAPTER VIII
It remains to understand, as far as is possible, the reason for those psalms that lack an inscription. The points found by us in this part are to be set before the judgment of those who read, either to accept our views or to turn their own diligence toward thinking out greater things. This difference, then, we have observed in those without an inscription. For in some of them, in place of an inscription or D of a psalm title, there is the thought itself, in which it is common to both Hebrews and to us that there is no other inscription of the underlying matter than this one meaning which is manifest in the words. To the others, however, there are inscriptions that are ecclesiastical and mystical, and indicative of our piety concerning the mystery, but they are not so for the Hebrews.
A This is in accordance with the accusation made against them in the Gospel: "For they covenanted that if any man should confess Christ, he should be put out of the synagogue." Whatever inscriptions they observed as containing some demonstration of the Dominical mystery, they rejected. For this reason, the discourse accurately suggests, and notes against them, the words which are prefixed to the reading of the ecclesiastical inscription: that among the Hebrews such a psalm is without an inscription. Since, therefore, this distinction regarding those without inscriptions has been set forth beforehand, it would be the time to provide the proof for the argument through the very sayings themselves.
The psalm set as the first of all did not require an inscription; for the goal of the things said in it is manifest to the readers. It is, as it were, an introduction to spiritual philosophy, counseling us to depart from evil, to attain to what is good, and to resemble God according to our power.
B But since the exhortation not to be impious was placed at the beginning of the beatitude, the second psalm, that we might be delivered from impiety, suggests the evangelical mystery having been prophetically proclaimed; so that in a way, the first psalm is the inscription of the second. For it sets forth the birth according to the flesh of Him who was born for our sake today (for "today" is a part of time), who is always Son and God from the Father and in the Father. And at the same time, it explains the kingdom and dominion over those who previously were not under an empire—who for this reason, because they did not serve God, were reckoned among the nations; being, as it were, autonomous, or rather lawless, in that they would not receive the divine law, but threw off the yoke from themselves—for by "yoke" he means the commandment.
C Furthermore, those who once lived without the Lord, having been invited into the kingdom that is supreme above all, become heirs of God through faith in Him who was born today, and who was established as King over them; and they themselves, having been born again, have become kings, in whom the iron rod—that is, that unchangeable power—crushing that which was earthly and earthen, has transformed them into an incorruptible nature, having taught that blessedness consists only in trust in Him. D Since this, which I have set forth, is the meaning of the psalm, it is permitted to anyone who wishes to test our opinion and explanation through the divine words themselves, to see if the things said by us harmonize with the divinely inspired Scripture. The rest of the psalms that lack an inscription are, according to the principle we gave above, of such a kind as belong to the Synagogue of the Hebrews, not to the Church of God. For in all of them it is possible to find some inscription, which the Jew
A does not accept because of the reasoning that lies hidden within it regarding piety, which they reject on account of their unbelief. Psalms of this kind are twelve in total (to sum it up briefly so that the order and arrangement of each may be made known, and the matters pertaining to the individual ones may be explained more accurately): namely the thirty-second, and the forty-second. After these, the seventieth, and the third from it. Afterward the ninetieth, then the second from this up to the sixth. Then the eighth, and the last among those that lack an inscription, the one hundred and third. This, then, is the series of the psalms which, among the Hebrews, are distinguished by no inscriptions. I do not think there is any other reason why they reject these inscriptions than the one I adduced above. But the demonstration of this matter will be clearer and more luminous if we look at a few of the psalms that lack an inscription, as if in passing, so that the censure and accusation which we bring against the faithless and foolish Jews may be confirmed by the very consideration of the words and sentiments, and gain credibility for itself.
Therefore, the psalm bids those to rejoice who come from heaven to earth, saying: «Exult, O you righteous, in the Lord,» B as in the Moderator of this whole universe, who brought everything that is from nothing into being, and preserves all things in their existence, whose command is the substance of things. For this is the meaning underlying those divine words: «He spoke, and they were made; He commanded, and they were created.» He makes that nation blessed which leans upon His name, understanding by "the nation" us, for whom the hope of salvation is placed in the name of Christ, and from whom we who have believed have accepted our name. «For the Lord looked down from heaven to see all the sons of men, from His prepared dwelling place.» He called the Father His prepared dwelling place, which always is—He whose being is eternal, C not having been generated from anything, but always a prepared dwelling place. And we are not surprised that from that dwelling place He is mingled with the sons of men, having become the Son of Man, because we are persuaded that it is He «who fashioned the hearts of them individually.» If human nature is His handiwork, one might rightly ask: what new thing do we learn from this mystery? That, obviously, the Lord of nature came unto His own, and was not received by the Hebrews. Therefore, there is no inscription for them, just as there is no sun for one who does not see. Whence we judge the course of the law according to the flesh, which he calls a «false horse,» and all that D bodily understanding of the commandments (this would be the giant), to be useless for salvation; just as he casts blame upon the
A Psalm-singer for saying metaphorically: «A horse is false for salvation, and a giant shall not be saved by the multitude of his strength.» But looking toward Him who delivers our souls from death through heavenly food (as the Prophet says that 52 «The eyes of the Lord are upon them that fear Him, 53 upon them that hope in His mercy, to deliver their souls from death, and to keep them alive in famine»), we say this, that «Our soul shall wait for the Lord, who looks down upon us from the heavens.» And, «Let Thy mercy, O Lord, be upon us, just as we have hoped in Thee.»
For these reasons the Jew rejects the inscription of that Psalm. Again, for the same reason, the forty-second Psalm among the Hebrews is B not marked with an inscription. The very series of the words of the Psalm, I conceive, shows that the mystery explained in that Psalm was unacceptable to those who strictly adhere to the Jewish sect. For he promises that he will enter into the altar, being made young. But this does not exist for the Jew. For he does not accept being made young through the mystery of salvation by the regeneration from above.
In the seventieth [Psalm] of the ecclesiastical edition, which has the inscription, «For the sons of Jonadab, and the first of the captives,» this is passed over in silence C among the Hebrews. The cause is clear, that since there are in these verses very manifest oracles concerning our Lord, the perfidy and incredulity of the Jews are rebuked, inasmuch as they are unwilling to receive such manifest teaching concerning this mystery. For just as those who suffer in their eyes, or those who are held by that affliction which is called the fear of water, can endure neither the approach of a sunbeam nor the sight of water, but with trembling eyelids—the former, being ill-affected, turn their eyes away from the rays, while the latter, who fear water, from the sight of water—in the same way, the wickedness of the Jews, because D they do not wish to confess the glory of the divine preaching, makes the truth unacceptable through their silence. Yet it is possible even from this very Psalm-singing to understand the riddles of the prophecy. For he says in the seventieth, in which the inscription is «Concerning the first of the captives,» as if speaking from the person of the captive, among other things suitable to the prayer of a suppliant, also this: «Rescue me from the hand of the sinner, from the hand of him who acts against the law and him who is unjust.» By these words he indicates him who brought our life into captivity. And in the following words, after many utterances adapted for consolation, he describes the return from captivity, when he says: «How many tribulations, many and evil, hast Thou shown me, and having turned, Thou hast brought me to life, and from the abysses of the earth Thou hast brought me back again, Thou hast increased Thy magnificence over me, and having turned, Thou hast comforted me.» But more clearly from the doctrine of the great Paul
we shall understand how he who has been dragged down into the abyss by the weight of sin is brought back from the abyss through Him who descended for our sake into the abyss. Concerning whom he says: «Say not in thine heart, Who shall ascend into heaven? that is, to bring Christ down. Or who shall descend into the abyss? that is, to bring Christ up from the dead.» For whence death entered into the world, from thence it is also cast out again. Through man it entered; through man it is also being expelled. B The first man opened the entrance to death; through the second, life is introduced, the entry of which effects the abolition of death. For this reason He descended through the Passion into this abyss of death, while the captive was being held by death, so that He might bring back to Himself, up to the heights, him who had fallen into the depths. For the great voice of the Apostle clearly explained these things, but having said many things concerning them, he also says this: «As in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.» For this reason, when the inscription, «For the captives,» proclaims with a clear voice the economy of our Lord in the flesh and the dispensation, the Jews stop their ears and reject the inscription.
Thus, in the ninetieth Psalm, you will find the same cause; namely, the inscription signifying the divine appearance of Christ in the flesh. For with us, the aforementioned Psalm stands thus: «A praise of a canticle.» For all praise has its reference to God. But the Hebrews refrain from the praise, and command those who praise the Lord to be silent. Indeed, they attempt to prevent the children in the temple from praising the Lord for His benefits, just as the Gospel bears witness to their folly as if engraved upon a pillar. It would perhaps be superfluous if I should endeavor, through the consideration of each detail, to show that the very words of this praise of the canticle refer to the Lord, since the very phrasing of the description and the discourse represents this meaning more plainly and clearly.
But the ninety-second Psalm carries something in the inscription still more manifest, for which reason the Jew does not admit that inscription. For the wording stands thus: «A praise of a canticle of David, for the day of the Sabbath, when the earth was founded.» For who among those who are imbued with the discipline of piety does not know that on the day of the Sabbath that mystery against death was performed, while that body remained, according to the prescription of the Law, immobile in its resting-place in the tomb? And who, moreover, does not know what that day is, when the earth was created and founded by our Founder, who through
A His own power prepared the way for all the dead to their resurrection from death. But the enemy of the cross of Christ does not accept the mystery of the Sabbath. B Therefore, this psalm of praise also lacks a title among them; for they do not agree that this is the Lord, who, when He had conformed Himself to us and had put on our shame in the form of a servant, reigned once again and put on His own majesty, and girded Himself with His power. Now the power and majesty of the Son is the Father. He again strengthened the human nature that had been dissolved by sin, so that it might no longer lapse into sin, nor be agitated by those storms which exist in sin; and having celebrated many other benefits of divine grace through enigmas, He introduces certain rivers sounding with a great noise, designating, as I suppose, the voices of the Gospels. And what need is there to go through the individual things which are written in the psalmody, since there is no doubt in the divine oracles that that whole hymnody pertains to Him who ascends in jubilation, who confirms His testimonies by a legitimate confession, and who has arranged for the sanctification of the Spirit to adorn the proper house of the Church?
Similarly, for the same reason, the Hebrew does not accept the title of the ninety-third psalm, which is conceived in these words: C «To David, upon the fourth day of the Sabbath, without title among the Hebrews.»
But the mystery contained in this psalm explains the economy of the Passion. For since the Lord was betrayed by Judas on the fifth day of the Sabbath, on the day which precedes this one, He who redeemed the whole world by Himself was, so to speak, sold by the traitor; for thus even by the prophet Jeremiah is this event named, when he says: «And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of Him that was priced.» But He is sold for this purpose, as I persuade myself, that by His own sale He might buy back us who were sold under sin. Wherefore the Prophet, foreseeing what was to come, is stirred with a certain wrath at that deed, calling Him the God of vengeance, and urging that He who was humbled for our sake be exalted, so that He may render a worthy retribution to the proud, lest sinners glory in their malice: D to whom he cries out, calling them fools and senseless, those who did not accept the [glory] of Him who appeared
A in His divinity. For it is the specific mark of a fool, as he says elsewhere, to assert that He who is God does not exist. He cries out to such as these: "Understand, you fools among the people, and you senseless ones, be wise at last." "Who planted the ear? Who fashioned the eye? Who instructs the nations? Who knows the thoughts of men?" By all these things, I believe the Prophet signifies the miracles performed in the [process of] healings: when eyes, fashioned by means of spittle and clay, were reformed and remade, and how hearing was, in a certain sense, implanted by fingers into those deprived of this sense. And whatever remained hidden in the secret [depths] of their thoughts, was brought into the open by Him who beholds the intentions of all. Since he was not heard by these men when he cried out, he turns his discourse B toward the Lord and says: "Blessed is the man whom You instruct, O Lord, and whom You teach from Your law"; as though the law is of no benefit on its own, unless some divine instruction makes clear the mystery contained within it. Just as this same prophet said: "Open my eyes, and I will consider the wonders from Your law." Or perhaps he declares him blessed who, from among the Gentiles, gives assent to the spiritual law, who, having been a man before this time, enslaved to the flesh and like the beasts of burden, becomes blessed in the instruction of the divine law, having had the curse changed into a blessing. For to him, the anger is mitigated from the days of the wicked, but for the other, a pit is dug. Then, proceeding a little further, he declares the purpose C of the economy of the humanity undertaken by the Lord with these words: "Unless the Lord had helped me, my soul would have nearly dwelt in Hell." For the help of the Lord did not allow us to be inhabitants of Hell. And [he asserts] that for the multitude of sufferings arising from sin, there was a counterbalancing medicine [prepared] by the Physician; wherein he also philosophizes on something greater, decreeing as it were, that evil is not from eternity. For he says: "Shall the throne of lawlessness be associated with You, which fashions labor into a decree?" This means that the origin of evil is not contemplated as being with You. For the throne, which creates sin through a decree, is [the] origin. Through these [words], he indicated that evil is not from eternity, nor will it remain forever. For that which was not always, will not be forever either. And he describes the mode of the destruction of evil D, foretelling the abolition of evil in the parricide of the Jews against the Lord. For he says: "They will hunt down the soul of the just man, and will condemn innocent blood." But this becomes for me a cause of salvation. For the Lord, having been condemned to death, becomes by this very thing a refuge for me; and this God is established as a helper of hope for those who have believed, who, rendering in just judgment to each according to his deserts, will abolish the malice of those who have sinned, not their nature. Having spoken thus in the word, "For He will render to them"
the Lord their iniquity, and according to their A malice the Lord God will destroy them—signifying by what has been said that those who are now fashioned in sin shall be destroyed. For when malice does not exist, neither will he who is fashioned according to it exist; therefore, with malice destroyed, and the character of such a one left in nothingness, all shall be fashioned according to Christ, and one form—that which was implanted in our nature from the beginning—shall shine forth in all.
CHAPTER IX
After this he proceeds according to the established order, employing no musical instrument, but bringing back to God the well-sounding praise through his own voice. For he says: "A song of praise by David." This inscription is not found among the Hebrews. He calls the hearers to a communion of rejoicing and to a jubilation consonant with the victors. "Come," he says, "let us exult in the Lord, let us cry aloud to God our Savior." B And toward the end he adds a more heavy and intense threatening against the unbelievers, who had a perverse heart—those who showed the same malice during the forty years of their stay in the desert, in which they provoked their benefactor, and who afterwards rejected the remission of sins offered through the Gospel; to whom it was permitted, C if they had wished to hear His voice today—the One who for our sake came into "today," and descended from that eternal and pre-temporal magnificence into temporal birth—to open for themselves the entrance into the rest. But always following error and unbelief as their guides—both in the earlier times and in the times after these—they were excluded by an oath from entering into the rest of God. For how could they enter into the rest, who willingly and gladly alienated themselves from the blessing?
And this is confirmed below by the ninety-fifth psalm, which itself is also without inscription marked before it among D the Hebrews. But for us, that psalm is a song sung to God after the return from captivity, when the ruined fabric of our nature was rebuilt; for the inscription has the words literally: "A song of praise, when the house was built after the captivity, lacking an inscription among the Hebrews." This psalm immediately announces the mystery of the New Testament, when it says: "Sing to the Lord a new song." Rightly, however, the inscription of this psalm is omitted among the Hebrews, because after the Evangelical voices which he set forth at the beginning of the psalm, the prophecy turns the speech to those who are from the gentiles, saying:
A "Bring to the Lord, O families of the nations, bring to the Lord glory and honor, and worship the Lord in His holy court," (85) and "take up sacrifices and enter into His courts." And every word that follows is of this kind, declaring beforehand the transition of the blessing to the nations. "For say," He says, "among the nations that the Lord has reigned," and He has corrected the habitable world which had been destroyed by wickedness, so that it might remain unshaken forever; concerning which (86) "Let the heavens rejoice, and let all the earth exult, the waters of the sea being moved with their fullness." Through which, by a trope, He indicates the opposing power, which is troubled and unsteady regarding our life, whenever we become heavens declaring the glory of God, or (87) earth being blessed through the fruit-bearing of the virtues. "For let the sea be moved," He says, "and the fullness thereof." He says that the plains shall rejoice. Calling the smooth life in virtue "plains," of which Isaiah also makes mention in his own words in another way, commanding the valleys to be filled, and the hills and the mountains to be leveled. Which appears to me to have been said for no other purpose than to show that in the pursuit of virtue one must diligently pay attention to excess and deficiency, or the too much and the too little, so that we may neither hollow out the principle of virtue through a deficiency of good and render it empty, nor B attempt to make it uneven through excess; for He says, "The plains shall rejoice, and all that (88) is in them."
Similarly, the psalm that follows it was not rejected by the inscription of the Hebrews, because it speaks of our affairs and announces in word the establishment of our earth. For the inscription assigns the psalmody to David, saying thus: "To David, when his earth was restored." But that "his," clearly, does not have its meaning in relation to David, but to God. For the earth which had previously fallen away through wickedness has now obtained a stable lot and condition through the knowledge of God. And we are all the earth of God, who were formerly unstable in the good, and for this reason cast into a curse; but after this, having been released from the curse, we have again obtained stability in the good. And the beginning of the psalmody immediately proclaims this, that the Lord having reigned, the earth rejoices. As if one were to say that the earth is illuminated when the sun shines; so, with the kingdom of the Lord prevailing, the joy of the kingdom is in us. But the text is as follows: "The Lord has reigned, let the earth exult (89); let many islands rejoice." He aptly called "islands" those souls that, although agitated by temptations, display stability and immobility, which the brine of wickedness surrounds on all sides, yet it does not have the power, by striking against them, to cause any wavering to the fixity of virtue; then, through those things which he interposed, the unseeable nature of the divine (90)
A nature in the cloud and the gloom, the Word signifies by way of an enigma. "For a cloud," he says, "and gloom are round about him," and, having indicated the fearful things of his retributive power, through which he says that "Fire shall go before him, and shall burn up his enemies round about," he uncovers the evangelical illumination, calling the words of divine preaching, which shine forth over all the inhabited world, lightning-flashes. For he says, "His lightning-flashes shone to the inhabited world." And having indicated the height of the evangelical mysteries in the following words, when he says, "The heavens declared his righteousness, and all peoples saw his glory," and having predicted the overthrow of idols and the abolition of such deceit in those things where he says, "Let all be confounded who worship graven images, and who boast in their idols," he adds the seal of good things, speaking of the appearance of the Lord which took place among men through the flesh: "Light has risen for the righteous, and gladness for the upright of heart."
Rightly and ingeniously does the beginning of the following B untitled psalm connect with the end of this psalm. For the same power becomes light and gladness for the righteous, but wrath for the unbelieving people. For, he says, "The Lord has reigned, let the peoples be angry." Who is this Lord who has reigned, the Lord who sits above the angelic and heavenly nature? For through the Cherubim, the superiority of the power above the world is designated by the Word, whose kingdom brings about the dissolution of that which has been ill-constituted. For it stirs not that which is heavenly in us, but that which is earthly, through these very words: "You who sit upon the Cherubim: let the earth be shaken." And I omit the rest, so as not to bring great weariness to the sequence of the exposition; stating only this much, that all things look toward one and the same goal until the end of the psalm. For he testifies that this God who has reigned did not appear to us first now, but is the same God who was manifest to those of great name among the prophets C. He makes mention of Moses, and Aaron, and Samuel, each of whom is renowned and famous because of his piety toward God. And he adds to his discourse the pillar of the cloud as well, in which God spoke with them, teaching, I think, the unbelievers through this not to be estranged toward the communion of God with us that occurred through man. For that God who then spoke in the pillar of the cloud, was afterwards manifested in the flesh. So if anyone should say the flesh is unworthy through which God speaks to us, he ought not to testify to the worthiness of the pillar of the cloud either. For what was there in the cloud of such a kind that it should be judged worthy of divine majesty? But if it seems naught alien to the faith to the Jews that God spoke in the pillar of cloud, let it not seem unbelievable that He has spoken in the flesh; D especially since Isaiah also [calls] the flesh
A by the name of a cloud. For he says: "Behold, the Lord sits upon a light cloud." B And the same prophet again calls those who follow Him "clouds," when he says: "Who are these that fly as clouds?" Thus, by the homonymy of clouds, he demonstrates the kinship of the Lord's flesh with the rest of human nature. To this God, then, who once spoke to men through a cloud and afterwards through the flesh, David says in the progress of the prayer: "Lord our God, You heard them; God, You were propitious to them, and [One who took] vengeance upon all their pursuits."
That no one, while looking at the divine economy and dispensation, might slip into certain base and human thoughts regarding the Divine, he adds this at the end of the psalm, turning the discourse to us: "Exalt the Lord our God, and worship at the footstool of His feet, for He is holy." We imagine the sense of what has been said to be this: "O mortals, the divine mysteries have been revealed to you as far as human hearing can perceive them. Being led by these toward pious knowledge of God, exalt the glory of God as much as your mind can grasp, knowing that however high your thought may rise, and however much it may transcend every elevated imagination in its conceptions of God, the One found and worshipped by you is not the very magnificence of the One sought, but only the footstool of His feet"—by this signifying the submission and frailty of our mind and thought in comparison to that comprehension which cannot be attained by any effort.
C After this, with not a few psalms having been passed over in between, in the one hundred and third, which he also includes in the number of those that lack an inscription among the Hebrews, he clearly proclaims the only-begotten God and assigns to Him the cause of the constitution of the whole universe. For he says that this psalm of David, regarding the creation of the world, is without an inscription among the Hebrews. He signifies that they do not accept the aim and purpose of that prophecy. The inscription is as follows: "Of David, concerning the creation of the world; without an inscription among the Hebrews." We shall expound the meaning of this psalm in its proper place and time. For now, it is enough to have pointed out this: that the same cause—I mean, the unbelief of the Jews—has caused them not to admit this inscription.
CHAPTER X
It is also not right to pass over the "diapsalma" without examination. For those who preceded us, it was thought that the diapsalma signifies a change of thought or purpose, or of person, or of subject. We, however, without rejecting the opinion of the Fathers D, will not hesitate to devise something ourselves regarding the meaning of this term. We have been imbued with such a consideration regarding the diapsalma: that as the psalmody proceeds according to the sequence, whichA in the course of his prophesying and singing, a certain illustration from the Holy Spirit would come as a kind of addition of heavenly knowledge, for the benefit of those who were to receive these oracles. David would restrain his own voice, giving space to his mind to receive the knowledge of the mysteries coming into him from the divine illumination. And just as often, when people are traveling along a road together, or are talking with one another in banquets or gatherings, if a sound should suddenly strike their ears, they cease their speech and fix their mind and thought upon the sound that has arisen, granting a certain leisure through silence to their hearing so as to discern the power of the sound, and then, once the sounding voice has ceased, they settle back into their conversations with one another; so too the great David, acting as a prophet for the Spirit—since he had reached the point of having learned—would proceed with the melody. And if, while speaking, he was taught anything in the meantime, he would yield to that which was sounding spiritually within the hearing of his soul and, hushing the melody, would proceed to explain again, weaving into the melody the thoughts of which he had become full. A diapsalma, therefore, if one wishes to define it, is, one might say, a silence that occurs suddenly in the course of the psalmody for the reception of the thought infused from God. Or it might be defined more aptly by saying that the diapsalma is a teaching from the Spirit infused into the soul in an B ineffable manner, with the continuity of the melody being interrupted by the attention given to this thought. And that this silence might not be mistaken by many as a sign that the prophet had been abandoned by the power of the Holy Spirit, for this reason some of the interpreters write «Always» in these intervals in place of diapsalma, so that we might learn from this that the teaching from the Holy Spirit was always in the soul, but the word which explains to us the thoughts impressed upon the soul from God was not always present; rather, the one would manifest the intention of the mind, and the other would receive it. Accordingly, when he was speaking forth the thoughts impressed upon his mind, the psalmody would follow in sequence; but if anything more divine echoed within the hearing of his soul, he would attend entirely to the hearing, hushing the chant.
Since, therefore, with the Holy Spirit speaking within him even during the time of silence, the speech had as it were an interval (and this interval has been named by the interpreters «diapsalma»), and the division of this whole D book, distributed into five parts, has been rightly established by us, it is permitted indeed to demonstrate also from these facts that the reason we have given is true: namely, that by a kind of introduction, whoever strives toward perfection under the auspices of the psalms is always led through each of the sections to higher things. For only the final section of the psalms contains from beginning to end a certain continuous and uninterrupted hymnody, and it is nowhere interrupted by a diapsalma, as can be seen in all the songs of degrees and in those whose inscription is «Alleluia.» For it is shown, as I think, by this observation, that in the others, as being indeed lower, there is room for
A a teacher who can instruct in higher concepts, and who can insert into the series of his discourse points capable of lifting the mind and withdrawing it toward the better. But indeed, the consummation of the “Songs of Degrees,” and of those to which “Alleluia” is prefixed—as if for those who have already progressed to the highest peak of all good things—has no need of any addition, being perfect and complete in itself through all the fullness of the perfection that is in the good; which the very meaning of the inscription prefixed to them makes plain, naming as it does all that follows as the praise of God. For just as the growth of bodies throughout the ages has a stable limit determined by nature, beyond which it is no longer capable of greater increase, but remains in the same state throughout all the remaining time: so too there is a certain growth and [final] state of divine doctrine and instruction. For it leads the infants, and those as yet imperfect in soul, to growth through milk and such things, as if through suitable nourishment; and to those already perfect, it sets forth solid food, that is, for those whose senses of the soul have been exercised through other forms of discipline.
Igitur in ultima Psalmorum sectione, it is clear that there is no need for a B *diapsalma* in order that higher meanings might be perceived through its ministry and address, if we bring forward those parts from the psalms which are interrupted by the *diapsalma*. For in the third psalm, having sung of the affliction and distress which had come to him from the assault of enemies, he immediately interrupts that part with the *diapsalma*, and utters that saving voice, being strengthened, clearly, by Him who inspired something into his secret heart: “But You, O Lord, are my supporter, my glory, and the lifter of my head.” Then, an interval having been placed after that voice full of thanksgiving: “My voice I cried to the Lord, and He heard me from His holy mountain,” he learns what is the method for escaping from the common distresses and afflictions of human calamities. And being taught the mystery concerning the Lord’s passion in the sudden illumination which came to him from the Holy Spirit, he puts on the very person of the Lord, breaking forth into these words: “I slept and took my rest; I rose C up, for the Lord will support me.”
But to set forth with precision the meaning underlying each of the words would perhaps be superfluous, since the discourse is hastening toward other things. For the notion assigned regarding the *diapsalma* must be confirmed by arguments sourced from the psalms themselves; for we can learn the same thing from the *diapsalma* of the fourth psalm. For it shouts aloud, in a way, to the whole of human society because of the vanity of those things which it alone pursues, and it pronounces the sons of men to be “heavy-hearted,” since they cherish in their affection a vain and unsubstantial lie. Then, pausing again, it demonstrates in what thing truth consists. For it says: “Know you that the Lord has magnified His holy one,” signifying, I think, by the name of “Holy One,” the Lord; just as Moses also says: “Because the Lord is just and holy.”
A Then, having set forth counsel as to how one might pass through life in purity, and having become judge and inspector of the thoughts of the soul, he says: “What you say in your hearts, be pricked in your beds.” B Again, returning to himself, he heard of the abolition of the legal animal sacrifices and proclaimed it for others to hear; for he admonishes that he who is in need of the cleansing and expiation of the mind should not place his hope in the slaughter of irrational animals, but should recognize with what sacrifices God is well pleased. Therefore, he says: “Sacrifice a sacrifice of righteousness, and hope in the Lord.” C Thus, also in the seventh psalm, the discourse of the prayer precedes, in which he justifies himself before the just Judge, that malice does not arise from the enemies for the sake of retaliation or requital, but that they themselves are the originators of wickedness, and that he considers it equal in sin both to initiate wickedness and to defend oneself against the initiator with equal evils. And having said these things, he again lends his ear to Him who reveals the great mystery of piety, through which the vengeance of the Lord against the true enemies comes to pass. For it is not possible in any other way for the host of the adversaries to be brought down, unless the Lord rises up in our defense; and death must necessarily precede the resurrection. He, therefore, who signified the Lord’s resurrection also manifested that which is conjoined with the resurrection—I mean the mystery of the passion. Wherefore, being full of God through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, he says: “Rise up, O Lord, in thy wrath; be exalted in the borders of thy enemies,” D indicating by the word “wrath” the vengeful power of the just Judge, and by what follows, the abolition and destruction of wickedness. For that alone is hostile to nature which is perceived as opposed to the good, which is wickedness, the end of which is abolition and a turning into nothingness. He, therefore, who said, “Be exalted in the borders of thy enemies,” foreshadows by the fact that he says the enemies’ wickedness is finished, that no return to wickedness for our life is any longer left. For just as the end of sickness is health, and the end of sleep is waking—for neither does the sleeper, as long as he is held by sleep, reach the end of sleep, nor is he who is ill, while he struggles with the disease, in the end of the sickness; but if health succeeds the sick man, or waking the sleeper, then we say they have reached the end of that in which each was held, the one of sleep, the other of sickness—so also here he termed the change of human nature into a happy and blessed state the “end of the enemies.” Furthermore, we have observed but one mode of “diapsalma” in the whole book of the Psalms that is different from the others, in one particular psalm; for he does not say simply “Diapsalma,” but “Canticum diapsalmatis” [Ode of a diapsalma]. And perhaps the expression is inverted through the fault of a scribe, so that it ought rather to be said, “Cantici diapsalma” [Diapsalma of an Ode], and not “Canticum diapsalmatis.” But since it is fitting to have before our eyes the divine
A judgment pronounced in the Apocalypse of John against those who alter the divine oracles by addition or subtraction, preserving the order handed down to us in this part of Scripture, we shall endeavor to investigate what the cause of the diapsalma of the ode might be. We reason, therefore, that from this point until the following diapsalma, there was one diapsalma, with the Holy Spirit instilling into David the thoughts of prophecy. But it did not happen there as it did in the others. For in the others, the teaching occurring in the soul from the Spirit in a hidden manner and the declaration of the knowledge placed within him were not performed at the same time; but while the heart was being instructed within, the word remained silent. Here, however, both happen together and at the same time, and while he is prophesying, the teaching of the higher thoughts from the Spirit B comes to him, and the continuity of the melody is not interrupted; rather, the Holy Spirit, being as it were attached to the instrument of the prophet, moves the vocal organs according to His own will, so that the ode does not cease, nor is the teaching hindered by the singing. For this teaching of the Spirit was the melody, even as Symmachus names it. And since such a division is found in many parts of the psalmody, it would perhaps be sufficient to have paved a common path to the understanding of the diapsalma through what has been said, so that there is no need to dwell any longer on explaining every single diapsalma; for it would be at once C vain and superfluous for one who is diligently pursuing matters already known to prolong the discourse over things that are approved by the consensus of all.
CHAPTER XI.
But one might also reasonably ask this: why in the world is the order of the psalmody out of accord with the order of the history? For if one were to pay attention to the span of time in which the life of David took place, and to the sequence of events, one would not find the placement of the psalms to be in agreement with the order of history. We answer, therefore, by returning to the first purpose of our discourse, that our teacher is concerned with none of these things. For I think it is the Holy Spirit who ought to be called the teacher, as the Lord says: D “He will teach you everything.” To this guide and teacher of our souls, therefore, all other things seem to be secondary, his concern being to save those who are wandering in the vanity of life and to draw them toward the true life. For to every one who succeeds in a certain goal, there follows a certain natural and necessary order, which achieves the desired end in succession. Just as, then, for stonecutters and sculptors, the goal of their work is to make the stone resemble something, yet the work does not begin immediately from the final end, but the art employs a certain necessary order, without which the desired end could not come to pass (for one must first break off the stone from the natural rock; then trim away the useless protrusions, toward the...
representation of the subject, and thus hollow out through A the operation those parts of the stone which, once removed, allow the shape of the living creature to begin to be seen in what remains B, the object of the craftsman’s care; and after this, with certain more refined and smoother tools, he sets about to scrape round and polish the roughness of the stone, and then to imprint upon the remainder the likeness of the archetypal form, and thereafter to brighten and make smoother the surface of the stone; by means of all of which the art knows how to add such ornament to the work). In exactly the same way, since our whole nature, because of bodily pleasures, has been as it were turned into stone, speech and instruction, which by training and shaping us toward the divine likeness proceeds by a certain path and fixed C reason toward the proposed end. For first it separates us from the stone akin to us—I mean from malice, to which we had grown attached through a certain habit. Then it cuts away the superfluous matter; after this, it begins to form the subject matter toward the likeness of the exemplar, by the removal and displacement of those things which hinder the likeness, and thus, through the more refined discipline of thoughts and concepts, filing down and polishing our mind by the pattern of virtue, it forms Christ in us, according to whose likeness we were fashioned from the beginning and are being fashioned again. What then is the order of the sculpture of our souls? In the first section of the Psalter we were lopped off from a life of wickedness; in the following ones, however, in a continuous series, the imitation is perfected in every respect. The order of the psalms is therefore consistent, since the Holy Spirit, as has been said, does not have the goal of teaching us mere history, D but of shaping our souls toward God through virtue; as the sequence of the meaning of the things written in the psalms requires, not as the sequence of history desires. For just as in the example of sculpture brought forward by us, the art stands in need of many instruments for the fashioning of a statue (and these instruments are not all alike in figure and appearance, but one is shaped into a spiral at the point, others have a point like a saw, others bear the figure of a chisel, while others have a form that takes a semicircular shape; yet all these and such like serve the craftsman at the appropriate time); so too for our Artificer, who skillfully carves our souls toward the likeness of God, the psalms have been prepared as a sort of lithic-sculpting instrument, and the necessity of the task brings the use of these instruments into order. And the craftsman is not concerned to occupy himself with which of the instruments was fashioned first, so that what was fashioned first in the making might also be the first in the act of sculpture. For he who attends only to the necessity, places whatever he chooses in the first, or second, or any other place, as use and necessity dictate. Whether, therefore, those events which occurred with Goliath and Saul are placed in the first rank, or whether those with Absalom and Uriah are in the last, none of these matters concerns the one forming...
our hearts through them, but rather how, through each of these, some cooperation toward the good might be ours. The sequence directed toward salvation looks to this; and the most excellent order is the series of those things that contribute some help to this very goal. For example, the first psalm withdraws man from the kinship he had contracted with evil. The second indicates to whom we should cling, by foreshadowing the appearance of the Lord in the flesh, and by showing that this is B blessed, to have trust in Him. The third will foreshadow the temptation brought upon you by the enemy. Since you are already anointed as king through faith, and reign together with the true Christ, he does not attempt to cast you from your dignity from the outside, but comes into existence from within you yourself. For the enemy does not have power against us from elsewhere, nor are we cast from our dignity by anyone else, unless we ourselves become the parents of this evil offspring through a wicked birth. He rises against our kingdom, and then he takes power against us when he defiles those dwelling with us, having accomplished the pollution in the open; that is, when he makes public the corruption of the virtues with which we once lived.
Since, therefore, our strength is not yet fortified for the struggles in the beginning, so that we might grapple with the attacks of the alien face-to-face, the Word shows no small benefit to those who are besieged by pointing out a lesson through the scriptural example, teaching you this: that when Absalom—the one who flourishes in malice, the fratricide—is born to you, and then rages against your honorable marriage and undefiled bed, flee, as the Lord says, from city to city. For in fleeing from the face of C Absalom, that kind of son, and by gathering your forces into one, it will be possible for you, with the aid of the wood which binds and hangs that wicked hair upon itself, to destroy the enemy with three arrows. It is surely not hidden from you, to what the enigma indicated by the history refers, and what that wood is, to which the hair of malice was nailed, which the Apostle calls the "handwriting of sins," just as he says: "He took it out of the midst, nailing it to the cross," that is, to the wood. And what is the triad of arrows, which pierces the enemy through the heart, through which the death of the final enemy occurs? In order that we may properly grasp the meaning regarding the arrow, we shall attend to the prophecy of Isaiah, who speaks in the person of the Lord, saying: "He has made me as a select arrow, and in His quiver He has exalted me." This arrow, therefore, is the living Word of the Lord, and "sharper than any two-edged sword." And the Word is Christ; by this name the mystery of the Trinity is confessed. In which one is also reminded of him who anointed, and him who was anointed, and the one with whom he was anointed. D
A For if one of these should be lacking, the name of Christ does not subsist. When, therefore, this name is exalted in our quiver—that is, when it arises in our soul through faith (for the quiver of the Word is the soul)—then it immediately becomes destructive to the one rising up against us and pursuing us, whose destruction takes place upon the wood. Therefore, after fleeing the one rising up at the right time (who is one in nature, yet becomes a multitude through the assistance of wickedness), and saying, [Ps. III, 2] "For they are multiplied who afflict me, and many rise up against me," and all the other things which the psalm contains in succession; then the beginning of victory comes. For timely flight from those who rise up becomes the cause of victory over the enemies. For this reason, the following psalm bears the inscription, [Ps. IV, 1] "To the end." B Now the end of every struggle is victory, as the discourse has already reasoned for us beforehand; and since, once you have tasted the sweetness of victory, other and yet other victories are happily won over the enemies. For in the first victory, while the pleasures of this life were contending against the goods of the soul, the inclination toward better things prevailed in you and thus tamed the deception and mockery of the body. For having condemned those who seek vanity and love lying, you have exchanged the desire for the things which affect the senses for the desire for things which escape the eyes.
C In the following psalm, you conquer in another way. For since there are two who are struggling for the inheritance of the truth against each other, the one putting forward the law, and the other faith; the just judge of the contest grants the prizes of victory to you, having neglected the other. So that the state of your soul, being pure, becomes like the sunrise, bringing the dawn to you as you withdraw from darkness, which the psalm designates as "the morning." [Ps. V, 1] And thus it is always possible for the athlete to find victory arising from victory, as the achievements resulting from victory always advance toward something greater and more evident. Again, another victory follows in order, brought about through the things previously accomplished. For he who made the inheritance known also makes mention of [Ps. VI, 1] the "Eighth," which is both the end of the present life and the beginning of the age to come. D Now it is a property of the "Eighth" no longer to provide those who dwell in it an opportunity for performing good or evil, but whatever seeds of works one has sown here, he gathers the sheaves of these there. For this reason, he commands repentance to be performed here (because in Hades there is no longer any place left for such an endeavor) for him who has been exercised by these very victories. But again, the discourse turns toward battles; again it anoints us for the incursions of temptations. For the same enemy, that Absalom, as if reborn from us, renews the war from within us—he whom our own prudent care and concern regarding this matter, or rather the assistance of God, averts when he is intent on killing us. For he assigns the cause of the successfully managed matter to God because of the words of Chusi, and offers thanks to Him. But perhaps it would be superfluous to wish to explain more accurately how Chusi, as a friend of David...
A became intermingled with the friends of Absalom, and appeared more persuasive to the tyrant than the counsel of Achitophel. Hence it came to pass that when his counsel prevailed, he who gave the counsel against David to Absalom perished, strangled by his own hand. It would, however, be fitting to apply even the enigmas and veils of history to the illustration of a life devoted to virtue: how, namely, the mind and thought that preserves us becomes a snare to the adversary; for that saving mind and resolve is inscribed partly in the history and partly in the psalms. But our purpose is to understand the order of the chain in the psalms, by which we are led to the good. Let us, then, understand the resolve here that destroys the one plotting against us.
What, then, is this? To consider it of equal wickedness both to initiate injustice and to retaliate against the one who initiated it. For he is his own most extreme punisher, and becomes the arbiter of his own punishment, if he is found to have exchanged evil for evil, as in a transaction, and to have repaid injuries with the injuries he received. And so, after these struggles, he is again shown to be a victor. For the inscription B following, "For the winepresses," indicates the end. Now, the end of the struggles is victory. But to expand at length in speech on the meaning of the inscription "For the winepresses" would be superfluous, as it has been sufficiently set forth in its own place. Just as after the first flight from Absalom, by discerning vain activity from true and serious matters, one is judged worthy of the victory, so also now, after similar struggles, using the word "For the winepresses" as an ally against the adversary, one becomes a victor, in that he has destroyed the enemy and persecutor at once—who is for this reason called both enemy and avenger, because the very enticements to sin are the most bitter punishment for those who experience them; and the things through which he draws a man, in deception, into the communion of evil, are themselves the most grievous form of punishment. Thus the divine C Apostle interprets this thought, saying that they "received in themselves the recompense which was due for their error" (Rom. 1, 27). For what could be conceived as more grievous for punishment than the uncleanness and shame of the impurity which those who practice the shameful thing work in themselves? He, therefore, who has destroyed in his own life the power of such a one—who punishes him who has entered into wickedness through the very act of participating in that wickedness—beholds both humanity, and the magnificence that is exalted above the heavens, and the dignity of nature, and over what things it rules and with what things it is aligned. For by the same reason he both rules over the irrational animals and, when compared to the angels, is seen to be D a little lower than them. Therefore, it is reason through which he both rules over these and attains kinship with the angels. Again, another form of victory succeeds, when, having surpassed the things that are under
visible with the hidden things, you cause your reason to enter into the secret mysteries. For the Word is the Son, and even if you are already sufficiently exercised by the preceding victories, you chant, "Concerning the hidden things of the Son," through a harmonious and melodious contemplation. And having again conquered the beast lying in wait for us in secret, so that the enemy's boast against us may no longer remain (for "that a man might not add more of boasting upon the earth"), then, through the victory that follows for you, having a more perfect confidence in God, you say, "In the Lord I put my trust." In the victory that follows, you again make mention of the "Eighth," in which the boastful tongue shall be utterly destroyed, and the deceitful lips, and all madness against God. But they shall be kept from this generation and unto the B age, who do not walk in the circle of impiety, but hold to the straight way which God has inaugurated for us, a new and living way. And what need is there to explain each point, when what has been brought forward up to this point, as if by way of introduction, shows you sufficiently enough the way by which, through the order of the psalms and their inscriptions, you are led to that which is good and right? The explanation of the inscriptions which we set forth above contributes not a little to this understanding.
CHAPTER XII
When the first section of the ascent through the psalms is finished, the mention of blessedness is resumed again in the fortieth psalm. Blessedness, however, is defined differently at the beginning, for at the start, the flight and turning away from evil was numbered C among the things that are blessed. But here, the knowledge of the good and the right is declared as blessed. Now the nature of the Good, or if any name or concept more excellent than this can be found, is nothing other than the only-begotten Son of God, who, being rich, became poor for our sake. The discourse here prefigures the poverty of His flesh, which was demonstrated to us in the Evangelical writings, when it declares him blessed who understands that poverty with due intelligence; who was indeed poor according to the form of a servant, but blessed according to the nature of His divinity. For He is named needy and poor at the beginning of this psalmody, but at the end of the section it is added, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel from age to age, D so be it, so be it." Therefore, he who has reached this height begins another ascent. For having left behind the father of Core, who through arrogance usurped the priesthood for himself, and for that reason was consumed by fire, and swallowed by the chasm, and hidden under the earth on account of his sins, he commits himself to be adopted by the true and legitimate Father through faith, not ignorant of how great a difference there is between becoming a son of God and being called a son of the deserter Core. Having therefore attained the end of the victory, and simultaneously understanding how great the difference is between this One and that evil father, and having consumed and devoured in himself all that is brutish and venomous, in the manner of stags, to which the power to consume reptiles is connate, he imitates and...also the stag in his thirst, and is thirstily disposed towards the divine springs—and this would be the divine nature, which is one and contemplated in the Trinity. For, he says, "As the stag longs for the springs of waters, so my soul longs for you, O God." Then he consoles the thirst that is conjoined with desire, and hastening to obtain what is longed for, and considering the brief delay in the participation of these good things as a loss, he speaks in the middle and at the end of the psalm: "Why are you sad, my soul?" and, "Hope in God," as, in truth, the divine hope guarantees for us the good enjoyment of the divine.
And B thus he proceeds to what follows, in which he becomes young again through the divine altar; and in the following [psalm], he again renders those who trace their lineage to Core as victors, showing that the approval one gains before God is not obscured by the ignobility of one's ancestors. And in this psalm, too, he attributes the cause of the destruction of the enemies to God, where he says, "For you have saved us from those who afflict us, and have put to shame those who hate us." He then transitions to the canticum pro dilecto. So that those who were formerly born C of an apostate, and later became victors over the wicked one, may arrive through understanding at the end of the victory. For "Unto the end, for understanding, a song for the beloved" is what the inscription contains. By which we are also taught who it is whose throne presides from eternity over all that exists, and what kind of virgin is chosen for communion with him as if as a spouse, not otherwise worthy of this honor unless she forgets her father, and, consecrating and dedicating this song to the beloved, he again weaves an epinikion for the sons of Core, advancing the discourse through more abstruse matters. For "For the hidden things" is the promise of this psalm. In which he describes D the "sound of waters, and the agitation of nations, and the calling of kings, and the shaking of the earth," and asserts that the "Lord of all power is with us."
Through all of which, he foretells the manifestation of the Lord in the flesh, when nature indeed resounds, but the mountains—that is, the earthly thoughts and concepts which once seemed immovable and incapable of departing from their place—pass away and are transferred. And the river of joy gladdens the city of God, and the Most High sanctifies his own tabernacle; and all such things that belong to this sequence, through which the Word foretells the mysteries in these riddles. Again the Word moves on to another victory, which all the nations applaud and exult at, because "God has ascended in jubilation." The mention of the ascension will be completely clear to you through the interpretation of Paul, who says, "It is impossible for one to ascend, unless the descent has preceded." Having commanded everyone to sing with understanding, he shifts the discourse to a more sublime state, making "The Second of the Sabbath" the subject of the song. And this, if it were to be contemplated according to the first creation, is the heaven
A and the firmament are the structure, and the separation of the heavenly waters from the earthly. But if you look to the Gospel, this is truly He who has prepared heaven for us. For heaven is named the firmament by God. And Paul understands by firmament nothing other than faith in Christ. For then, indeed, is heaven truly created for us according to faith, when the gloom of the Sabbath has passed away; and the mystery of the predestined Son of God has become a faithful mystery to us in power according to the spirit of holiness, from the resurrection of the dead of Jesus our Lord, who is in truth the great God and greatly to be praised. And as for all that follows in the Psalm, it designates that divine city, which it also calls "a well-founded mountain," and "the joy of the whole earth," and "mount Sion." Regarding which it recounts that most paradoxical thing of all, that what was once "the side of the north" has now become "the city of the great king." And "God is known in her palaces," clearly signifying through these words the miracle concerning the Church. For the northern climate of the earth is one of those places obscured and frozen, remaining always without light, and devoid of solar rays. For this reason, the opposing power is denoted by the name of the north. Therefore, that which once verged toward the north, or rather, which was its very side, having been transferred from a dark and frigid life, becomes the city of God, and the dwelling-place of the kingdom, in whose palaces God is known. By "palaces" (Bάρεις) it means the perimeters of the buildings in a quadrangular shape, through which it intimates by an enigma the firm and lofty towers of the virtues B that are contemplated in the souls of the saints, as if God were known only to such lives; and what follows is in harmony with what has been previously stated. For "the kings of the earth were gathered" in it; for it is not a gathering of servants, but of kings, that settles that divine city. "Who," he says, "seeing these things, were amazed." And he tells the cause of the amazement, because those who previously dwelt unworthily in this city, when it was the side of the north, "were troubled, and were shaken, and tremor took hold of them." And not only tremor, but also pains mimicking those of a woman in labor. All of which he says happened to them by the violent spirit, which shatters the ships of apostasy that float ill upon the sea of life. "In a violent spirit," he says, "you will shatter the ships of Tharsis." Now, he who has kept in memory what is recorded in the Acts of the Apostles does not ignore that violent breath which was made known to the disciples gathered in the upper room. And he who has attended to the prophecy of Jonah knows, at any rate, that he who departs from God seeks a ship sailing to Tharsis. Then, as if the discourse were divided into two persons, in the former parts it assumes the character and posture of him who is preaching, but in the parts that follow, it mimics the voices of those who have received the word. For it says, joining...
A itself to the truth of what came before, as if it had learned what was said from someone else: "As we have heard, so have we also seen, in the city of the Lord of hosts, in the city of our God." For this reason it also brought in those who had seen with delight what they had heard, exhorting one another. And the exhortation was this: "Surround Sion and encompass her; tell of her in her towers; set your hearts upon her strength, and distribute her borders," and whatever else the discourse contains in sequence.
After this, the proclamation of the Word spreads out into the whole world, and just as before the confusion of tongues there was one lip and one voice among all, so now too all the nations, and the whole inhabited world, and all men, become one ear and one heart, with the Word resounding to all as one. For having gathered all human nature together at once, and having set the whole world around Himself as a single theater, He cries out the Word to all in common: "Hear this," He says, "all nations; give ear, all you who inhabit the world; both those born of earth and sons of men, both rich and poor in our midst." B For by these three couplings he generally embraces every difference that appears in the life of mortals. In the first coupling, he speaks of all nations and those who inhabit the world, so that by the names of the nations he might signify the boundaries of the places, and by the subsequent phrase, the inhabitants of those places. By saying "born of earth" and "sons of men," he distinguishes the carnal, the earthly, and the more irrational from those who are being saved, and those who possess in themselves some character of human nature. But the proper character of man is the likeness to God. And the inequality of life concerning poverty and wealth is the most general cause of the varied and multiform irregularity that shines forth C in human affairs.
Who is this who addresses such a great and significant audience? Who other than He who testifies in it that He will speak wisdom and understanding? And He speaks these things who has the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, that great grace which is achieved through attention and meditation. For He did not say that He would open His mouth before He had inclined His ear to the Word that was instructing Him. "My mouth," He says, "will speak wisdom, and the meditation of my heart, understanding; and first I will incline my ear to a parable, and then I will open my problem on the psaltery." D What then is this understanding, and what is the problem? He says that God’s creation did not see the making of any evil day, as the narrative of the world newly created testifies, but sin has made the day of rejoicing into a day of fear and punishment, which it was not necessary to fear, had not the serpent that lies in wait for our heel, whose name is lawlessness, encompassed the path of life with his own
A constriction, by his complex coils of passions, terribly shuddering on all sides and becoming roughened.
Then, having divided the entire psalm into two parts, in the first part he provides counsel not to look toward any other redeemer; for neither, he says, will a brother redeem, nor any other man, but each one will supplicate for himself if he gives to God a propitiation for himself and the price of the redemption of his soul. By way of this counsel, he wishes to provide a rebuke to the pride of those who waste their effort in this life and apply their study to things that do not bear fruit according to the vain pursuit of this life. How men pass their time in senseless toils, as if they were to live forever! How they do not anticipate the corruption that comes through death, though they see those before them dying! And being truly foolish and senseless, they do not know that after this life they will leave their wealth to others; but they themselves will dwell in the graves forever, B having not inscribed their names in the heavens through a higher life, but desiring to be renowned on the earth, they have rendered themselves nameless in the city above. The cause of all this is that man does not understand his own honor, but voluntarily drags himself down to brutish pleasures, becoming a slave to his throat and belly and the filth that follows the belly. This is the portion of the first division of the psalm. The remaining part directs its target toward other reproofs and accusations; and again the discourse concludes with the same phrase; clearly, the Prophet insinuates to us that the primary cause of the entry of evils into the world was that man became like beasts by irrational desires. But when the medicine for such an evil was prepared for us by the grace of Him who visited humanity in mercy, men, having again deserted the good shepherd, hand themselves over to be grazed by death; C not inclining themselves toward the heavenly pastures, but toward those in Hades, they became sheep of Hades. For he says, "As sheep they were placed in Hades, death shall graze them." And thus, a second time, through sin, there comes the insensibility regarding the honor that was granted to us by grace, and a fall toward an irrational life. For everything that is outside of true reason is irrationality. And it is proper to a beast to be irrational and senseless.
CHAPTER XIII
But to set out and recount one by one all the things that are in the psalm in exact detail would be superfluous, since those things that were omitted can be understood with easy labor from what we have said, so that I do not think it necessary to prolong the discourse further, unless perhaps it is necessary merely to repeat from what has been discussed above that great David is beneficial to the human race in a twofold way: D then, specifically, when he forms and foreshadows our salvation through certain symbols, and then when he demonstrates to men the manner of repentance, applying thereto with excellence
A of the fiftieth psalm, by which another victory over the adversary is prepared for us. For knowing how to cleanse oneself of evils becomes a preparation and a basis for a continuous victory against the enemy. For since we have an unceasing struggle in this life, waged against the ruler of the darkness of this world and against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places, and since we possess only one means of resistance—to wit, repentance—and this for every assault of the invading enemy, certainly he who makes right use of it becomes a perpetual victor over our perpetual adversary.
Moreover, the order of the history in the inscriptions that follow does not hold, but only the meaning is connected and arranged in a fitting order. For the event involving Bathsheba and Uriah is much later than that regarding Doeg the Edomite, because the latter happened at the beginning of Saul’s tyranny, while the former occurred shortly before the end of David’s reign. But the Holy Spirit is not concerned with the temporal and fleshly order of events. For what benefit would accrue to me if I were taught first those things that happened concerning the Edomite, and afterwards those concerning Bathsheba? What virtue would be gained by me through this? What ascent toward better things? What instruction towards a desire for higher things? B If, however, having learned the mysteries in the fiftieth psalm—all those things which the Word contains in a deeper sense—I were then to be taught the medicine given to us for the destruction of the adversary in that discourse on repentance, so that through this I might become accustomed to and practiced in victory against the enemy, consider how, following the order of the next ascent, I proceed by receiving victory upon victory.
I shall read for you the sequence of the historical inscription, which runs as follows: «To the end, an understanding for David, when Doeg the Edomite came and reported to Saul and said to him, “David has come into the house of Abimelech.”» Through these words I am taught that the end of victory is attained when understanding governs life according to the likeness of the great David. And then I grieve Doeg, the tyrant of my salvation, most especially when I am staying in the house of the priest, and when the servant of the mules, no longer daring to engage with me openly and plainly, secretly weaves an ambush against me, indicating to him who is plotting murder against me that I am residing in the priest’s house. C It is clear, furthermore, who these mules are over which this Edomite presides, feeding that barren nature in which God’s blessing has no place—the blessing which He pronounced from the beginning when He granted to the creature the power of self-multiplication with these words: “Be fruitful and multiply.” For the multiplication of malice does not proceed from God. Therefore, the race of mules is not born from one another by themselves; rather, nature is always inventing this animal in a new way, devising and superinducing for itself, as it were, that which does not exist in nature. From what has been said, I consider it entirely clear at what goal the discourse is aiming. For if all things that the Lord made were good
A lian, and since the mule is outside the catalogue of those things that were created, it should be clear that this name has been taken up by sacred history to signify malice. Therefore, it has neither its existence from God, nor, having come into being as it does, does it persist in its own subsistence. For just as the nature of mules does not preserve itself through itself, so too malice cannot preserve itself by enduring. Rather, it perpetually arises from somewhere else, when that lofty and volatile part of our soul slides down toward the desire for an earthly and irrational union. B Therefore, that foreigner Doeg, who became the messenger of Saul against David, the shepherd of the barren flock of mules, is none other than the evil angel who, through the various affections of sin, draws the human race toward wickedness; so that when he sees someone in the house of the true priest, and is unable to strike him with the kicks of mules, he then reports it to the prince of the wickedness of the spirit that operates in the sons of disobedience. C But he who is rooted like a fruit-bearing olive tree in the house of God employs against the tyrant those words which we have heard in the psalm, saying, "Why do you boast in malice, O mighty one of iniquity, whose tongue is like a sharpened razor," which, when applied, strips away the comeliness of the hair, cutting off those seven locks in which all our strength resides. You surely understand from this heptad of spiritual curls the meaning, just as Isaiah enumerated the sevenfold grace of the Spirit; upon the cutting of these, as happened to Samson, there follows the destruction and loss of the eyes, and he who was [once] strong becomes a laughing-stock to the foreigners when they are drunk. D He goes on, after saying this, through which the traits of the one who is mighty in malice are described, [to say] that "God will destroy him forever; He will then uproot and remove him from the divine tabernacle, and will uproot from the land of the living the roots of his malice and bitterness," and all other such things which that psalm embraces throughout its course, all pointing to the same meaning; through which constancy and stability are perfected in them, as the divine Apostle says, those who are "rooted in the faith." "For I," he says, "like a fruit-bearing olive tree in the house of my God, have hoped in the mercy of God forever," and beyond this span, the measure of which is infinity, which he calls "the age of ages." At the same time, he promises to offer eternal thanks to God, saying, "I will confess to Thee forever: for Thou hast done for me things worthy of thanksgiving, and I will wait," he says, "for Thy name: for this waiting is good for Thy saints." For just as the splendor of different colors, on account of the variety of the dye, distinguished as if by various flowers, gradually transitions to a different color, skillfully painting the very breaths of colors with an alternating brilliance: so too it is possible to see the senses of this psalm ex-
A exactly reaching the ray of meaning in the prelude to the luster of the adjacent psalm, so that they mingle in succession, and the medium between them goes unnoticed as the mind glides spontaneously from this one into the psalm below. For he who has taken root like a fruitful olive tree in the house of God, and having established in himself that firm and unmoved foundation of his faith, and having extended the hope of divine oil through thanksgiving into the infinity of the ages, burns with indignation against the senseless, whose head of foolishness is the denial that He exists who truly is, over all and in all. For since such things exist, he says (first he demonstrates the providence of God toward men, on which the firmness of our hope leans so immovably that it does not grow weary when it embraces the entire span of eternity with its desire), how does the fool say in his heart, "There is no God"? They are corrupt and have become abominable in such pursuits of their thought.
For corruption—and truly the dissolution of that which exists—is the falling away from Him who strictly Is. For how could anyone be in existence if he is not in Him who is? Or how could anyone remain in Him who is, if he does not believe that He who is, actually exists? Now He who truly Is, is God indeed, B as the vision of the theophany testified to the great Moses. Therefore, he who casts the existence of God out of his own mind, by saying that He does not exist, corrupts his own existence, becoming outside of Him who is. For this reason he says, "Since they turned away from God, all at once they became useless," like some discarded vessel, condemned for uselessness. Now that which is useless to the good clearly demonstrates the aptitude for evil, through its disharmony with that which is better. Since therefore for these reasons the Lord "looked down from heaven upon the sons of men"—and such a saying foretells the dwelling of the Lord among men, when the subordinate multitude followed those who were the leaders in unbelief, namely the priests and Pharisees and Scribes; for those were the ones who were tearing and devouring the people with their own blasphemous ways—for this reason He says that "There they shall fear a fear where there was no fear, who eat my people as a meal of bread," C suffering something similar to the affliction of those who suffer from hydrophobia. For if they could somehow admit the water, it would be a medicinal cure for the illness of the sufferer; but they fear that which is proposed for salvation and are alienated from that which saves, making for themselves an anticipation of perdition out of a fear of perishing. So too those others—with the fountain calling out to them: "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink"—being caught, by the madness of unbelief, in the senses of the soul, feared a fear where there was no fear, turning away from the drink of salvation, not knowing that God is in the generation of the just, who gives from Zion salvation to Israel, and [when He restores] the captivity of His people D
turning them again to Himself, then the true Israelite and spiritual Jacob is filled with joy and exultation. The meaning of the psalm, therefore, as far as I have been able to investigate it from the very words of the psalm, is what I have said, and the inscription of the psalm agrees with this meaning. For the inscription testifies that the prayer of the psalm is an epinikion, composed A by a choir in the intellect. “Unto the end,” it says, “for Maeleth,” which may be interpreted as “by a choir.” For “unto the end”, other translators rendered “epinikion,” that is, “a song of victory.”
Again, as the course of the discourse proceeds in the established order, it adapts the enigmas and wrappings of history in a manner consistent with the thoughts of those who are making progress, when that Doeg the Edomite plots nothing against us, fostering within himself that ambiguous nature of mules, placed on a double boundary. It has been said before that B sin is signified by this animal: for just as sin is the fruit of that tree that hangs in both directions and is of double aspect, which is called both good and evil: good, because it covers sin with the bait of pleasure, which those who are friends of the body take up in place of the good; and evil, because it ends in a bitter conclusion, although it is now pursued with such zeal as something good and beautiful: so also it is possible to see the symbols and marks of both natures, that is, of the horse and the ass, in the animal of which I speak, so that the same mule is both horse and ass, not indeed divided, but both at once, combined C and confused in one double nature of animals for the composition of this new creature. When, therefore, that foreigner of whom we are speaking reports our stay and conversation with the priest to the tyrant, and then we, by divine help, have overcome him who glories in malice and places his power and strength in iniquity and have cast him down from his dominion, and have uprooted him entirely from the land of the living, having become like an olive tree, joyous and heavy with a multitude of fruits, and having been strengthened by hope in God, then we shall celebrate in dances the songs of victory against the enemy defeated by us; then D we shall deservedly make a step toward higher things, truly, as it is said in the Canticles, “leaping upon the mountains and skipping over the hills.”
What, then, is this mountain to which the discourse now vaults from the previous mountain, as it were by concepts, to another victory, and other hymns of victory composed through understanding for David? Those who now wage war are no longer a herd of mules, but the nation of the Ziphites. They lie in wait at the narrow, parched, and thirst-inducing pass, and when they cannot hinder our journey through those straits, they become sad at our salvation and our prosperous success. For it says: “Unto the end, an instruction in the songs of David, when the Ziphites came and told Saul, ‘Behold, David is hidden among us.’” D Certainly, he who does not interpret the history...
is well aware that the narrow and parched place mentioned here, and the passage that is so difficult to penetrate, is to be understood as the evangelical path of the kingdom of heaven, which the Ziphites—that is, the alien nation of demons, the ministers of the opposing power—hinder us from following. Only a few, however, who turn away from the broad way find it. The narrative of the history is thus expressed word for word: “Is it not the case, behold, David is hidden in Masera among us in the straits, in the hill?” Truly, those who lead a life in agreement with God are hidden in this narrow way. The New Testament shows us this path, by whose benefit we are able to arrive at the supreme summit of the mind, which the context of the history calls a hill. When, therefore, we have crossed that narrow path without hindrance, the Ziphites report our salvation and prosperity to the tyrant. We, however, assign the power of rightly judging us to the name of Him who saved us, saying: B “O God, in thy name save me, and in thy power judge me.” For that which had already been done, he represents in prayer as if it were still to happen. For Scripture is accustomed to disregard the exact reckoning of time in this way. For the divine oracles relate that which is to come as if it were past, and that which has already passed as if it were to come; just as it is permitted to see at the end of this psalm. For he did not say, “He shall look down upon my enemies,” but, “My eye hath looked down.” By these things we learn that for God nothing is future or past, but all things are present. Therefore, even if the words spoken concerning the divine power have a certain force and significance of the past or of the future, the mind nevertheless does not depart beyond the boundaries of the present. Therefore, he who has traversed the arid and narrow path and has put to flight the gathering of the Ziphites says to God: In thy name has salvation come to us, and in thy power has the judgment concerning what is good and right found its strength, which is what will always happen. C And through this, he invokes, as it were, the ears of God so that they may hear his thanksgiving, enumerating how strangers rose up against him, and how those strong and powerful in malice sought his soul, for whom God does not act as leader, but he who is contrary to God. For this reason he says: They “have not set God before their sight,” but God helps me, turning back the evils upon the very authors of wickedness, and “in his truth he will destroy” everything that is hostile and alien to the truth. I, however, he says, will give thanks to the name in which I was saved, because thanksgiving is good, because I escaped the miseries and tribulations, and with my eyes I have seen the destruction of my enemies. For the eye of the Prophet exults over this, D when nothing is seen any longer from the side contrary to virtue; for when wickedness is removed, which takes a position against virtue in the order of an enemy, the name of enemies will no longer remain; for how will anyone any longer be called an enemy, when enmity no longer lives?
B For as the thoughts that have been stated might be appropriately applied to the words of the psalmody, read the very psalmody itself, which is arranged in order in the fifty-third [psalm], when, having already become superior to the Ziphites and having beheld the total destruction of wickedness, again established in the understanding of the assistance from above, he offers a song of victory to God. For so the discourse of the inscription contains: "Unto the end, in hymns, an instruction of David." Moreover, just as in the contests that are performed with the body, the athletes do not remain with the same opponents as those which they defeated in the time of their youth, but with their strength grown and their powers confirmed, they demand greater and stronger antagonists for themselves; and when those are defeated, they descend into the dust against those who are superior, always entering into conflict with more robust adversaries in accordance with the increase of their strength: in the same manner, he who through so many victories against enemies has been exercised, brings forth even more illustrious victories from them, engaging with more famous opponents of greater name and reputation, C and for this reason he calls upon the ear of the judge of the contest, saying: "Give ear, O God, to my prayer, and despise not my supplication." And he encourages him to attend to his exertion, saying, "Attend to me, and hear me." And he points out by his discourse the toils of the contests, recounting his sadness and discomposure, and the voice of the enemy, and the tribulation of the sinner, exhibiting to the judge of the contest, as it were, certain wrestling holds brought to bear by those contending against him. And in addition to these, the discomposure of his heart, and the cowardice of death, and fear, and trembling, and darkness encompassing his whole life, for all of which he found one remedy to emerge from such afflictive circumstances, namely, to assume the swift wings of a dove and to lift himself on high, and to stay and rest his flight in that place which, being free from all evils, is flourishing with more divine things. D "For I have dwelt in the wilderness," he says, so that there, away from the faint-heartedness of the spirit that is upon the earth and from the storm of temptations, he might be preserved by the help of God, where all wickedness vanishes. For the sinking into the sea signifies abolition and destruction; because everything that is plunged into the deep vanishes and is snatched away from the sight of men. Therefore, the sinking and ruin of sin is the dissolution of the concretion of wickedness. For this reason he says that wickedness is sunk by God into the sea when He divides the tongues of those who conspire in evil. And all the other things that the understanding of this psalm contains in succession—such as the description of the city inhabited by evil and depraved pursuits and practices—all look to the same thing. For he tells of and enumerates the wicked inhabitants of this city, namely iniquity and con
A contradiction going around the walls of the city by night; and again iniquity, and labor, and injustice nurtured in the midst of the city. He also points out the wicked rabble that fills its squares, naming them usury and deceit. And he says that the most grievous plague of all these things mentioned is hypocrisy, which, putting on the appearance of unanimity and love, hides deceit under a fair mask. For this reason the just Judge sends intruders worthy of such inhabitants. Do you wish to know the names of these intruders? “Let death come upon them,” he says, “and let them go down alive into Hades.” And having shown through the Word all the dismal things regarding them, he brings forth that sweet voice by which he also conquered that city with all its multitude, saying: “But I will hope in Thee.” He calls the “fullness” of this city men of blood and guile, B who do not leave any kind of evil day half-finished, nor display an imperfect malice, but have perfection in evil; of all of whom he becomes the victor by this one voice, in which he reveals his disposition toward God, saying: “But I will hope in Thee.”
Chapter XIV
Let the industrious person, persisting in these thoughts, himself read through the divinely inspired words of the psalmody, so that confusion may not be introduced by us if I were to explain everything word for word or prolong the contemplation on each point. For just as those who are ascending a steep and difficult path, when they happen upon some resting place in the midst, slacken the great and intense labor, so that, their strength having been refreshed and repaired, they rouse C themselves to climb the heights that remain, so too the traveler of virtue, whose steps are victories over his adversaries, as the inscription of the previous [psalm] testifies, strengthens himself for the victory by his achievement, and again sets himself toward the higher goal. For great also is this struggle which he overcame in the aforementioned psalm: of sadness, and trouble, and agitation, of enmity and reports—for this is what the “voice of the enemy” is—and of the tribulation from sinners, and the wrath of the indignant, by which are stirred up the agitation of the heart, and the cowardice of death, and fear, and trembling, and darkness, and the like. Therefore, he who has overcome such and so many adversaries, having taken up the wings of Him who appeared D to our life in the likeness of a dove, and having migrated from those who are raging in malice, transfers himself to the wilderness, free from the malice of the growth of weeds, where one attains rest, having already conquered the whole city of his adversaries with all its throng of inhabitants—whose dwellers are iniquity, and labor, and contradiction, usury, and deceit, and death, and the descent of the living into Hades; and that most wretched of all kinds, of those who always dwell there, hypocrisy, which by the display of unanimity works its treachery. The one who extends his trust in the Divine throughout the entire time of his own life becomes superior to this. For by saying “evening and morning and at noon,” he encompasses the whole daily measure, in
which he relates such things as God deigns to hear, redeeming in peace a life from those who approach him in great numbers, whom he names “men of blood,” and “deceitful,” and “perfect in malice.” Having, therefore, by trust in God overcome so many and such great enemies, once again, as if having committed his previous labors to oblivion, he rises against stronger and more robust antagonists. For observe what labors he sets before himself through his contests: “For the people,” he says, “who have become far from the holy ones.” This people is the entire human multitude, which separation from the holy commandments has fenced off from God by a certain huge and infinite interval. A He calls this people back through the victory won over the adversary, making the salvation of the lost the prize of the contests, for which cause he also inscribes this illustrious deed upon a column, in an indelible script, so that the memory of the events might endure throughout all time. Victory, therefore, falls to David in the title, or inscription of the column: “When,” he says, “the Philistines took him in Gath.” But that the sense subject to this, and as it were woven into the coverings of the history, might not escape us, I shall, by making a summary of the facts in a few words, recount the history. Envy against David had invaded the tyrannical Saul on account of the victory won over the prostrate Goliath, and because that victory was celebrated by choirs with the applause of all. Wherefore Saul, with all his might, secretly and openly, plotted to bring about his destruction, now indeed by setting traps in secret, B and again by openly taking up arms against him and stirring up his subjects against him. But when David had been harassed and tempted by Saul in various and many ways, he finally went to the Gittites and inhabited one of the cities of the aliens, they having willingly granted it to him; in which he dwelt along with his companions, joined to two lawful wives, of whom one was an Israelite, while the other had been the wife of a certain powerful man in Carmel, who, after his death, had married David. This is what the history contains.
That he was detained, therefore, among the aliens is not an argument that he himself had been seized and detained by wickedness; for no such thing happened, but it indicates a certain full humanity and affection with which the aliens treated him. For him whom they had cast out of his paternal seats, the Gittites place in their own C seats. What, therefore, did this David, the son of Jesse, a man from among men, accomplish by his own contests, such that it can be proclaimed that he called back the whole human nature, which through the transgression of divine commandments had been driven far from God, and announced to it the enigmas of the inscription? If anyone should call the divinely inspired Scripture the inscription of the column, he will by no means be mistaken. Or is it clear from the very narrative of the history that he was such a one, and so great, that he who existed outside the borders of Judea, and dwelt in a city of aliens D and rested in a double marriage,
one wife being of the Israelite race, while the other was invited into the bridal chamber from the aliens. A Therefore, if one wishes to lay out the argument concerning this more clearly—to strip it bare, as it were—this person is both the victor and the bridegroom at once. By the means through which he vanquished him who held the power of death—he, the mighty one in battle—he rescued that countless people who were held in Hades, bringing them into freedom. But the Israelite people, driven by envy and jealousy toward the slaughter of Him, are held in favor by the aliens; and He establishes again among them—I mean the Church—that in which He strengthens His own kingdom, He who said to those set under Saul, "The kingdom shall be taken from you, and it shall be given to a nation bringing forth the fruits thereof." In this city, there is indeed something of Israelite nobility, according to the prophetic proclamation, B which says, "In the churches bless ye God the Lord from the fountains of Israel." For those who were the first to instruct in the doctrine of the faith, the heralds of the truth, the founders of the Church—the disciples, I mean, and the apostles—were from the fountains of Israel. "The princes," He says, "of Juda, their leaders; the princes of Zabulon, the princes of Nephthalim." By certain signs and symbols, the prophecy signifies the characteristics of the race of the disciples. Among these is the younger "Benjamin, by his ecstasy" instructed in the mysteries; he who was from the seed of Abraham, of the tribe of Benjamin: Paul, the divine apostle.
Cæterum licet (Nevertheless, even if) the king is said to dwell with the Israelite woman, C yet Abigail is loved more—she whom the Carmelite Nabal, the so-called Cynic, that harsh and mountain-dwelling man who was accustomed to shear sheep, had previously kept as his wife. Upon his death, the woman joins the king in marriage and becomes the mother of kings. The inscription of the psalm, therefore, contains such mysteries, indicating the title or memorial pillar for the people who have been distanced from the saints, and the notable deeds performed for the aliens; which, by the letters inscribed upon it, stands as a reproach for the Jews on account of their faithlessness, but for those who are saved through faith, it serves as a leader and an example for all uprightness. D Yet the words of the psalm itself do not seem to look so much to that King who revealed Himself to us descending from heaven, as to David himself, the vanquisher of all wickedness and the practitioner of virtue. Nor would anyone say that the meaning of the psalm is at variance with the enigmas and obscure senses of the Scripture. For whoever correctly and in the fitting manner turns his eyes toward theology and the knowledge of heavenly things reveals his life to be in total harmony with the faith. But this does not happen otherwise than by the carnal uprising being brought low through the pursuits of virtue. For the head of virtue is the alliance of God, which he gains who, through his life, makes the divine oil his own. And just as if someone, upon being suddenly attacked by a robber or a murderer, were to call upon some of his friends for help, not
being sufficient A on his own to escape that danger: so here, too, one positioned in the struggle, on account of the assault fabricated by "man" (by naming "man," he indicates with a collective voice the passions and affections of our nature), calls upon the help from above, saying he is being trampled by the one warring against him, and that he is failing and being afflicted as the battle lasts for days on end.
For he does not say that only one adversary is meeting him for the sake of combat, but that the single man is like a multitude of enemies. For he says: "My enemies have trampled me B all day long," launching missiles from on high, because they who trample me are superior to me; nor does that which occurs happen by day or in the light (for I would not have feared if they had engaged me openly). On account of this, he adds: "By day I will not fear," silently implying that the fear is brought upon him by the enemies in the darkness. But such a person creates a day for himself by hoping in the light, through which the darkness is dispelled: "By day I will not fear, but I will hope in you." Perhaps, however, one would grasp the meaning of these written words better by looking at the enigma of the inscription. For as long as the race of men was far removed from the holy C angels and was being trampled by the passions of nature, wasting away and being wearied in the persistence of the war, and was being struck from higher places, and possessed the fear in the night; when, however, it hoped in God, by casting off—as if it were a burden—the hope that had wandered among vain things, then it praised its own words, which are the confession of the faith. "For in God," he says, "I will praise my words." But these praiseworthy words, he says, my enemies detest, finding in my thoughts against me a source of evil, and preparing in secret and hidden ways an ambush while I dwell among them. They, practicing their own craft, do not cease to lie in wait for my heel. For this is the work of D the murderer from the beginning, to lie in wait for the heel of man. But even if the assault of the enemies is heavy, it will be driven back through the help of your assistance; for salvation comes to men from you gratuitously, not from works of righteousness, but from your grace alone. "For you will save them for nothing." And the whole sequence of the psalm that follows explains the recall and restoration of the human race, the head of which is the victory won over the adversary, indelible, as if upon a column, a monument to the divine benevolence toward men, set before all creation as a subject for giving praise. Therefore, with the final words of this psalm, he sings thus, looking toward this column: "In God I will praise the word, in the Lord I will praise the discourse, in God I have hoped; on account of whom the fear of flesh no longer approaches me. And in me," he says, "are vows, which I will render through praises, because you have delivered my soul
A from the underworld, and my feet from slipping." He calls a "slipping" the turning aside from the path of the commandments, which brought about the fall. Being delivered, therefore, from death, and raised up from the fall, he stands before the face of God, from whom he had first been transplanted when he gorged himself upon those things which the divine commandment had forbidden, hiding himself for shame under the shadow of the fig tree. Having received back, then, the boldness of speech, he is restored to the living light. "I will be well-pleasing," he says, "before the Lord in the land of the living," from whence he had been alienated at the beginning through sin. And concerning these matters, so much. For I do not think it necessary to examine each point more laboriously, lest the discourse grow beyond measure. Since there are many in the sacred hymns of victory, which the inscription "To the end" indicates, and since the victory over adversaries is viewed in these in many ways, that victory signified through the veils of history over those who wrestled against him seems to possess a certain unique character. I speak of that history which recounts those things that happened with Saul, in which the order of the Psalms does not consist of the sequence and order of historical events, but is adapted to the progress of those who are being perfected through virtue. Each of the things manifested through the events is fittingly arranged to demonstrate progress in virtue, so that both the first and the last are connected to each other according to the reason and prescription of virtue, and the order has not been enslaved to the material coincidence of events. This is why, after many other things, that event is interpreted which occurred long before B at the cave, the meeting of Saul, who was pursuing him to murder, and of David, who was avoiding murder. In which the authority for murder was turned into its opposite, as the one who was pursued unto death stands over the slaughter of the one who was murdering, and having obtained the power to inflict punishment upon his enemy, and along with this power the strength, instead of the enemy he slew his own anger within himself.
The facts of the history, then, are entirely plain to all who do not study divine matters in a passing way. But we shall speak briefly, as far as it is possible to compress the narrative concerning this for the sake of brevity. There was a certain desolate place in Judea, in which David, being pursued, was lodging out of helplessness. In this there was a spacious cave, admitting those who took refuge in it through a single opening. When Saul was searching for David and scouring the desert with his entire army, David himself and those with him took refuge of necessity in the cave. When they were already inside the cave, Saul himself also comes in after them, so that he might take care of some necessary things, being ignorant of the maneuver that had happened automatically against his own safety. D As he was alone, he took off his cloak and laid it down somewhere beside him, being visible and conspicuous because of the splendor coming through the entrance of the cave to those who were hidden inside in the darkness. It was the intention of all the others who were with David to rush upon the enemy and take vengeance on the one who had come to kill them, as if God had delivered
A the enemy into the hands of those who were being pursued to their deaths. But David forbade their impulse, judging the attempt against their king to be unlawful. Drawing his sword from its sheath and slipping quietly behind Saul, he had an act of violence against him that no one could witness; for the darkness in the cave, veiling their sight, prevented any confirmation of what was taking place. Therefore, although he could have driven the whole sword with a single blow through his spine and into his heart, he did not touch Saul’s body, nor did he intend to.
He silently cut off with his sword the skirt of his mantle, so that later the mantle itself might be a testimony to his humanity toward Saul, the very cutting of the fringe demonstrating the power he had possessed over his body. By these things it became manifest what remarkable progress David had made in long-suffering and gentleness; for, holding a bare sword in his hand with the body of his enemy lying underneath it, when the power to slaughter him was at his disposal, having conquered his anger by reason and the power of striking by his fear of God, he was not only found stronger than his own anger, but he even restrained his armor-bearer, who was already rushing toward the destruction of Saul, with that memorable voice, saying to him: “Do not destroy the Lord’s anointed.” Saul therefore comes out of the cave, knowing nothing of what had happened, wearing the mantle with the cut-off skirt. David, following him shortly after with such security as he could muster, and having occupied the hill that overlooked the cave, shows the skirt with his outstretched hand. This, however, was nothing other than a bloodless trophy erected against his adversaries; and crying out to Saul with a loud voice, he explains this new and wondrous type of valor, which a stream of blood had not defiled, by which the champion C won, and the defeated was kept safe and unharmed. For David’s valor does not consist in the fall and destruction of the enemy, but the excellence and magnitude of that deed consist chiefly in this, that he rescued his adversary from danger; he possessed such confidence that he did not wish his own safety to depend upon the downfall and destruction of his adversaries, but while his ensnarers were alive and safe, he hoped that he would be secure, as if there were no one who could cause him any trouble. But rather, by this history, the divine Word wishes to teach that he who excels in virtue is valiant and strong, not against those who are of the same race and lineage as himself, but against his own immoderate passions. Thus, through this most noble deed of David, anger is destroyed in both: in his own case, because he checked his personal rage by reason and restrained the anger that was rushing to take vengeance; and for Saul, because through the humanity he had experienced, his malice and wickedness against David were rooted out. For what he said after this to the victor, as he sank to the ground with his eyes cast down from shame for what he had attempted, and how he testified to the turning away of his mind from malice with lamentations and tears, it is possible to learn from the history itself. The subject matter, therefore, of the fifty-sixth psalm, as far as it is revealed by the historical accounts, is such as this. And the very words of the inscription, by which the encounter in the cave is indicated, are in this manner: “For the end, do not destroy, for David, for a pillar-inscription,”
when he fled from the face of Saul into the cave.” A Now, in order that the meanings of the Psalm may be harmonized with its headings, it is time to consider the contemplation within them in a few words, first setting forth the divinely inspired words. “Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me, for my soul has trusted in you, and in the shadow of your wings I will hope, until lawlessness passes by.” The Psalmist, through his trust in God and his firm hope in Him, prays that the divine mercy be granted to him B until, as he says, “lawlessness passes by.” But that the meaning may be made clearer to us, let us unfold the argument in this way: The nature of sin is unstable and fleeting, having neither come into existence at the first creation from Him who established and gave essence to all things, nor remaining perpetually with those things that are. For those things which are from the Being [the True Existence], both are, and remain through everything in being. But if anything is outside of the Being—that which has its essence not in being, but in not being good—this is like the grass on the rooftops, rootless, unsown, and unplowed; and even if for the present C it may trouble us with its groundless growth, yet at the appropriate times, in the restoration of all things to the good, it passes away and vanishes, so that no trace of the evil now prevailing in us remains in the life that lies before us in hope. “For yet a little while,” he says, “and the sinner shall not be, and you shall seek his place and shall not find it.”
The argument therefore philosophizes in these opening lines of the Psalm, defining the nature of evil through lofty doctrines. For it teaches that we need help from the divine mercy only until D the lawlessness that has wrongly taken up abode in our life passes through our life. And such assistance is granted to us by trusting in the power of the One who helps us, and by arming ourselves with the shadow of the wings of God. And if one understands the virtues as the shadow of the divine wings becoming a covering for us, one will not go astray. For what the divine itself is, according to its nature, remains inaccessible and incomprehensible to human nature, soaring somewhere above the ineffable reasoning of men. But a certain character of that ineffable nature exists for those who look upon it through the sketching of the virtues, so that all wisdom, and prudence, and knowledge, and every approach of conceptual apprehension are not the divine wings themselves, but a certain shadow of the divine wings. And this shadow is a great benefit to us, granted by God. “I will cry out,” he says, “to God the Most High, to the God who has benefited me,” through this shadow which He sent down from on high to this lower life. He saved me through the Spirit that overshadowed [me] in the cloud, and those who in the former psalms trampled upon me, He has now brought around into the rank of the insulted. “For God sent forth...”
his mercy and his truth, and He delivered my soul from the midst of the lion's whelps.” Truly, my sins were at first whelps to me—or rather, whelps of lions—which tore me with that terrifying maw and the sharpness of their claws. But the helpers came: mercy and truth, a noble union. For neither is mercy without judgment, nor truth without mercy. And by their aid I am delivered from the company and habit of these whelps. B These beasts, he says, are the “sons of men, whose teeth are weapons and arrows, and their tongue is a sharp sword.” The structure of our nature does not possess such members implanted in the human mouth in place of teeth, but when someone becomes like [them] in his affections, and is transformed into malice, having lost the form according to nature, he becomes a beast. For this reason, having mentioned lions, he names the “sons of men,” for whom teeth and tongue are the instruments of war.
He, therefore, who is so lifted up in understanding as to dwell under the shadow of the divine wings, and to be taken up from the earth into the heavenly lot (for he says, “He sent from heaven and saved me”), no longer looks toward earthly things, but applies himself to the glory that is in the heavens, saying, “Exalt thyself above the heavens, O God, and Thy glory above all the earth.” And describing the assaults of his enemies, he says that they are turned round by their own evils, falling into their own pits. For he says, C “They have prepared a snare for my feet, and have bowed down my soul. They have dug a pit before my face, and have fallen into it.” He himself, however, says that he is prepared to celebrate the divine glory with praises. How blessed is he, by reason of such an inborn felicity of nature, whose heart is prepared for the praising of the divine glory, receiving within itself That which cannot be contained! Affirming that he is ready and prepared, he does not delay the ode or song, but calls upon those living instruments which he possessed for the ministry of celebration, saying, “Awake, psalter and harp,” thereby indicating the harmony and concert of the double man—him who is seen and him who escapes the eyes—in order to offer up divine praises, and the instruments obey the caller. D The time for such music is the dawn; for not to those who do not cast off the works of darkness is the glory of God stirred up. “I will arise, therefore, in the dawn,” says the psalter and the harp to the one who called them. And thus he promises to fulfill to God the thanksgiving, which he calls confession, fulfilled among the peoples and the nations. For the grace of faith is divided equally according to these two names, toward the peoples and the nations. For God is not of the Jews only, but also of the nations, since He is one God, “who shall justify the circumcision by faith, and uncircumcision through faith.” Therefore, as if a double fountain of divine blessing has been poured out upon both, and diffused partly among the people and partly among the nations, the prophetic word gives thanks on behalf of both.
A For because sin had increased to infinity, God’s mercy exceeds it in its own greatness, having transcended even the very heights of heaven. "For your mercy," he says, "is great above the heavens." I believe that the words of the doxology concerning these are the final utterances of the psalm, in which he says: "Be exalted, O God, above the heavens, and your glory above all the earth." For as much as the glorification of God increases upon the earth, augmented through those who are saved by faith, so much do the supramundane powers, rejoicing in our salvation, hymn and glorify God, just as the heavenly host says to the shepherds, when the angels saw the peace that shone upon our life through the goodwill toward men, that "Glory to God in the highest."
CHAPTER XV
B The pre-eminent succession of this psalm, which follows, differs in greatness from the former in as much as one can learn from the written words themselves. And just as among runners, he who outruns the winner of others carries off a glory greater than the first, having shown himself better than the one who preceded him; so the fifty-seventh psalm seems, by the greatness shown in its meaning beyond the one previously finished, to overcome it in the magnificence of its thoughts. For just as that one had the tokens of victory over the others, so this one has the surplus of that which excels the rest; and indeed the inscription "To the end" testifies to this victory. But the discourse seems to bear witness not so much to the defeat of the adversaries, as to the abundance of good things which follow from this victory. C The words of the inscription themselves are thus: "To the end, do not destroy, for David, for the inscription of a title." How many times is this champion of patience proclaimed by the Agonothete himself for this wreath of victory? And perhaps the Holy Spirit himself marvelously repeats this voice, as being better than human strength and exceeding the boundaries of nature. For it was the task of the bodiless and immaterial nature alone—which no human passion touches—to say such a thing. Yet a man uttered this voice—a man who has anger inherent in the nature of his essence, and who was suffering evils from one to whom he had given no cause for performing any evil, but upon whom he had bestowed many and great benefits; and who, because of empty ambition and for those very things he had done for his sake, was made an exile by that person himself who had been the recipient of his kindness; and he becomes a fugitive from his own home, driven by one to whom he had been a benefactor. D At one time he goes from one place to another out of helplessness, lodging in deserts, taking refuge in crags, becoming a suppliant to foreigners, suffering from a lack of necessary things, passing most of his time under the open sky, and often facing the danger of death created by the ungrateful man, who now indeed attempts murder against him with his own hand, grasping a spear, and again surrounds with guards the house in which he lived, so that he might ensure his death; who then anxiously searches,
A in what places he was sheltering, or where he had taken food, or with whom he was staying, or to whom he was fleeing; and since the opportunity to kill his enemy offered itself to him twice—once when Saul had fallen unexpectedly into David’s hands in the cave, and again in the tent when he was prostrate in sleep and David stood over him sleeping, when he might have fully satisfied all his anger by the slaughter of his persecutor—yet he did not lay a hand on him himself, and to the one rushing to kill, he said, “Do not destroy.” It is a voice directly from God, forbidding destruction upon man. B Therefore, just as those who make more prominent carvings in stone cut the characters of the letters deep into the engraving, often applying the stylus to the forms, so by constant repetition does the Holy Spirit strive to make this great utterance clearer and more distinct on the pillar of our memory, so that this writing, inscribed upon us clearly and without confusion, might be read in the time of calamities and perturbations. For I believe this is the intent of the guidance of the Holy Spirit, so that the excellent deeds of holy men might be set before us as an example and as a sort of guide for later life, inviting us by imitation to similar excellence. For when the soul seethes for vengeance against one who has inflamed us with anger, and the blood around the heart grows hot with fury against the one who has caused us trouble, then, looking back at this pillar which the Holy Spirit erected for David, C and reading the words written upon it that David uttered for the safety of his would-be killer, one will entirely calm that tumult of thoughts which have arisen in the mind; once every perturbation is pacified, one will be moved by a desire to imitate such noble deeds. Furthermore, the magnitude of the progress of him who has ascended to the level of this psalm can be discerned from the very words of the psalm, namely, how greatly he surpasses in magnitude and loftiness that which he has left behind. For he no longer complains of being trampled by enemies, nor does he invoke mercy for his aid, but, raised on high, as if from a certain lofty watchtower, he shouts these words by way of rebuke to those living below in the valleys of this human life: “O men, why do you speak and act? D Is that which you say justice? Do you bring forth judgment with uprightness? And yet I see that your hearts are on the earth, and every movement of the heart is a deed and not a thought. For immediately upon the evil arising in the mind, the deed is joined to the thoughts by the hands.” For the sake of clarity, having paraphrased the words of the psalm a little, I have set forth the words as follows: “If in truth you speak justice, judge rightly, O sons of men. For in your heart you work iniquity, your hands weave injustice on the earth.” Then, lamenting those who had fallen from salvation, he adds these words, saying, “The sinners have been alienated from the womb, and they have gone astray from the belly.” You will understand what is being said, if you investigate what is the first
human composition has been as a matrix, and who has been the womb that has birthed the human race. For I consider that there is nothing else besides the kindness and goodness of God, from whom we were fashioned and brought forth. For He said: "Let us make man according to our image and likeness," A who fashions their hearts individually. And again He says: "I have begotten and raised up sons, but they have rejected me." And it is possible to gather myriad such expressions from the holy Scriptures, by which it becomes known what the womb is that fashioned us, and what the "matrix" is that has brought us forth into the light through birth.
Therefore, viewing these things, he who laments over the destruction of those who have fallen away mourns; for this voice, through which he bewails sinners, is essentially a lamentation. "How were sinners alienated from the womb?" How did they wander from the belly, having honored falsehood before truth, whose anger has its likeness to the first father of falsehood? "Like the asp," he says, "that is deaf and stops her ears, which will not hear the voice of the charmers, and of the enchanter charming wisely." For those who are wise in such things, having observed this nature of the beast, say that because it swells with rage, it stifles its breath in its throat and does not let it out, swelling up like a wineskin B by the retention of breath, so that all the charms of beasts that have been discovered by those wise in such matters remain inactive and ineffectual on it due to some natural antipathy. By these things, he gives us to understand that the heart of those who are held fast in wickedness remains unhearing of the healing being applied to them by their teachers. And indeed, the whole sequence of the psalm is woven through lamentation while he bemoans the destruction of the wretched, against whom he also cries out what is to come, saying: "God will shatter their teeth in their mouth." What kind of teeth? Clearly those that chew disobedience, the ministers of the pleasures of the belly (whom he had named weapons and arrows in the preceding psalm), by which the word of truth is torn to pieces. "And the molars of the lions," he says, "the Lord has shattered." You would know whom he has named lions if you were to learn the properties of these beasts. For they say that lions have distorted eyes, are carnivorous by nature, and friendly to blood.
C You perceive, I believe, what the enigma means regarding the distortion of their eyes—of those who cannot look towards what is straight—and the unpleasantness of their breath, of those who use their mouth for blasphemies and have for this reason a certain kinship with the stench of sin. And as for all that is meant by the "breath"—that "flesh and blood," which especially nourishes the nature of lions, are things cast out from the kingdom of God: "For at the time," he says, "of the honor of the worthy, these shall be brought to nothing," flowing away along with the unstable nature of material things to which they had endeared themselves, collapsing along with them in their life. "They shall be brought to nothing," he says, "like water that passes away." For that wicked archer against our souls, he who shoots the sharpened arrows of sin against the human
A race, does not cease from attacking them before he has robbed them of their strength. "For he shall bend his bow," he says, "until they grow weak." And they become like melting wax, easily fashioned into every form and figure of wickedness. To these he adds those lamentable cries against the wretched: "Fire has fallen, and they have not seen the sun." Another of the interpreters clarifies the meaning of this passage, interpreting that premature fall from the womb as an abortion. For he uses these words: "An abortion," he says, "of a woman shall not see the sun." Since, therefore, at the beginning of the psalm he says that "sinners have been alienated from the womb, and have gone astray from the belly," which is the same as "they were aborted," and he states the cause of such an affliction to be their resemblance to the serpent and the asp, for this reason he now, having repeated the same discourse, says that those who are incomplete in the reason of nature, and who have become abortive through wickedness, have slipped and fallen from that womb we have spoken of, becoming fire unto themselves through a material choice; for which reason they have not looked up to the sun. Now by the sun is signified the true light, upon which that unfinished fruit of the Jews did not look. And the subsequent discourse fits in due sequence with what precedes it. For what he there called a deaf asp, he now changes and calls an unintelligent thorn; for understanding is born from hearing, and he who does not receive hearing rejects at the same time, along with his hearing, his understanding.
C For this reason, just as there he had mentioned a name more generally in regard to the serpent, then introduced the species of that beast which is the most pernicious of the genus, namely the asp; so too here, having generally set forth the name of the thorn, he introduces the most severe species among thorns, speaking of the rhamnus, whose tips are sharp, its projections continuous and suited to harming those who draw near, and the wounds it inflicts are poisonous. "Yet, even if you were as a thorn," he says, "and the rhamnus among thorns, so that you might seem to live." For he does not truly live who does not possess the true life. "Wrath shall swallow you up"; and just as the life of sinners is not truly what it is called, but is only so named (for that which is separated from the true life does not deserve the name of true life), so also in God, His wrath is no more truly wrath, even if it is considered and named such by sinners, but it is "as wrath" to those who thus name the recompense being rendered according to the justice of God. This, then, is that meaning: "As living ones." And, "As in wrath it shall swallow you up," since you are not in the true life, nor is He who is perceived in wrath truly wrathful. Then he says: "The righteous shall rejoice when he sees the vengeance." Not as one who rejoices over those who are perishing, but as one who, by way of juxtaposition, sets his own affairs against theirs, he will then proclaim himself blessed for his own good counsel, that he did not become one of their number, in whom he beholds the vengeance of the sinners. For the [recompense] of their own deeds.
A For he will recognize the purity of his own hands all the more, if he compares it with the filth of the iniquitous. "His hands," he says, "he will wash in the blood of the sinner." It is known that we wash our hands for no other purpose than to cleanse away filth with water; but the staining of blood does not cleanse a pre-existing filth; rather, it becomes filth itself. Just, then, as a white color appears more brilliant by the juxtaposition of blood, so too does the purity of the just man’s hands become more radiant through the comparison with its opposite. For what is now disbelieved—namely, that there exists for those who have voluntarily endured hardships through the struggles of virtue a communion in some more excellent good—will then be made manifest through experience; for he who sees these things will say that there was, as it seems, a fruit laid up for the just man in the righteous judgment of God. Do you see to what a height the discourse has ascended, and how much it exceeds the loftiness of those things which were treated in the preceding psalms? B
CHAPTER XVI
But not even this is the limit of the ascent for those who progress through virtue. For the psalm which follows in the sequence of order is found to surpass this one in the magnitude of its hidden meanings. Again, the inscription proclaims the victor, crowned; again, the column testifies that such a victory as this is above human capacity. For it says: "In the end, do not destroy." It has been said many times that "the end" signifies victory, and there is no need to explain again what is already clear. But that, "Do not destroy," is that friendly and pleasant voice, which, having exceeded every excellence of long-suffering and patience, C brings to mind in this place a greater and more manifest notion. For who does not know that even the most common of men is prone to confer benefits upon those from whom he has received no harm? Often, indeed, when some slight offense or annoyance has occurred, the man who is more constant in soul bears the small annoyance with moderation, and does not in the least refrain at the time of doing good, nor is he any less benign toward the one from whom he received some annoyance; but he who is abject and small-minded in his thought, even if the provocation be very small, lets loose all the reins of his vengeful power whenever an opportunity to return evil is presented to him. Therefore, the wonder is not equal, nor will it be considered as a benefaction, in the case of one who has suffered no previous evil compared to the one who rewards with benefits the person who has treated him badly. For this reason, in order to display the most incomparable and inimitable patience and moderation of soul of David—which lacks little of imitating the very state of the divine nature, which is free from all passion—he places before our eyes that wicked madness of Saul. D For, he says, the voice "Do not destroy" was spoken by David—which he inscribed in the memory of posterity—not when the tyrant was treating him with benevolence, but when those things had already happened, at the time when Saul sent to his house to kill him. And surely, you who are a lover of learning are not ignorant of that portion
A of the history which is indicated by the inscription: how, after Saul was seized by the evil spirit, and David the holy one calmed the disturbance caused by that passion through the singing of the Psalter, Saul found the spear that was resting near him and hurled it at his benefactor, directing the point against him. But when David, by divine aid, avoided the attempt, the strike of the spear-point sank deep into the wall. David then fled from the palace into his own house, B hoping that the king’s anger would be changed through repentance.
When Saul had surrounded David’s house on all sides with guards, and had ordered his executioners to kill him, David with difficulty let himself down through a certain window into the open space, and escaping the guard, he passed out of danger. Having migrated, he went from one place to another, wandering in his helplessness among his acquaintances and kin. And thus he was overtaken by Saul, who had surrounded with his entire army the hill into which David had retreated with his men. And since the night provided a respite from death—for Saul had postponed the slaughter of the one he was pursuing until the dawn—he approached the tent of the enemy. Finding him there, overcome by sleep on a certain bed, David not only restrained his own hand, which perhaps was hastening—as if to indulge and yield to anger—but he also pulled away his armor-bearer, who was already leaning over Saul to kill him, saying, C "I will strike him, and I will not do it a second time," drawing him back from that rush with that great and celebrated voice, saying, "Do not destroy him who is hastening toward our destruction."
Nor is this the only thing to be wondered at in this matter, that he grants life to the one who was contriving nothing but his death, but that David, having already been anointed to the kingdom and knowing well that he could not otherwise share in that dignity unless Saul were removed from the midst, nevertheless judged it better to struggle through the labors of private life with patience and justice than, by satisfying his anger against his adversary, to ascend the royal throne. D For this reason, he appends to that most humane disturbance the phrase: "When Saul sent to the house of David to kill him." For this was not said at the time when these things happened, but the account adds it to increase the wonder, that he who had suffered such and so great things said these words.
But I consider it superfluous, as I am hastening to other things, to explain now what is sought in this history: how, when the account says that Saul struck David with the spear, the history adds that the spear reached the wall, but David was saved; and that he himself was not found upon the bed, but in his place there were cenotaphs and certain shadowy images, and a goat's liver—which, according to a custom of those times, was done to avert death, so that an invalid might be removed from the bed, and the garment usually placed upon the dead might be put upon the couch, along with the goat’s liver. For it would be clear to those who are more diligent in study that this whole history is a prophecy of the dispensation concerning our Lord. There were demons in Saul the tyrant; he drives these away 1...
A anointed for kingdom, by the instrument of the lyre acting against them. But he, having been seized by the demons who were with him, strikes with a lance him who through the lyre had demonstrated his strength against the demons; yet the wall receives the blow instead of David, and he is saved.
After this, he who was plotted against by Saul is sought upon the bed, and he is not found; but the bed contains cenotaphs instead of him, and the liver of goats. It is entirely manifest what is the understanding of these riddles and towards what the sequence of the history looks. For indeed, through David, He who is from David is fore-announced, and the Anointed signifies Christ; and the lyre is the human instrument; and the melody from this is the Word who was manifested to us through the One made flesh, whose work it is to abolish the agitation from the demons, so that the demons may no longer be the gods of the nations. But that king, who has the demons within himself, whenever the spirits withdraw at the melody, strikes this instrument, adapted for this purpose, with the lance (the lance is wood armed with iron), but the wall receives the lance instead of him. By the wall we understand the earthly structure, through which we contemplate B the body, around which we look upon the wood of the cross and the iron. But that David, both Christ and king, is removed from the passion. For the Godhead is not contained in the cross and the nails. And hearing of Melchol, who was born from Saul, whom David had as a betrothed, we are not unsettled, observing what follows. For we know that God did not make death, but the king of wickedness became the parent of death, he who deprived himself of life. For by the envy of the devil, death entered; and death reigned from Adam even to the law. The Apostle does not want it to reign any longer in our mortal body. He, therefore, who tasted of death for all, occurs in the house of her who is understood by us as Saul, and its name is Melchol. The meaning of this name is "kingdom," because until then sin reigned over nature. Being in this place, he himself goes out through a window. The window signifies the return into the light of Him who had shown Himself to those sitting in darkness and the shadow of death. But his cenotaphs are seen upon the bed. For the angel also says to those in the tomb C seeking the Lord: "Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here; He has risen. Behold the place where He lay." Those seeking the Lord saw the tomb in which He was buried, empty of the body that was sought. Only the burial cloths were in it. Therefore, we understand that the cenotaphs upon the bed of David signify the resurrection of the Lord from the tomb, through which the true averting of our death comes to pass.
I come to the wounded wall, which instead of the body
A receive, although it is devoid of blood, lest we overlook that which is most opportune for the mystery and by which we have been redeemed—I mean the blood—here, in those very cenotaphs, it is found. For the liver alone among the members is the source and workshop of blood, without which it is impossible for the nature of blood to subsist. If, therefore, blood flows from the liver, and the liver is found among the cenotaphs, it follows that blood is not lacking to that which has come about for the averting of death for the human race. Furthermore, the species of that animal whose liver was taken is assigned to propitiatory sacrifices for sins. B And not only this, but from the same species one is also chosen for the celebration of the Pasch; and this animal, Moses says, must be made to be the one that takes away the sin of the people, when it is divided into a double action. For when two he-goats are proposed by lot, the one is sacrificed to God, and the other is sent away into the desert with the sin. For all these reasons, therefore, and others such as these, the liver of this animal was assumed for the indication of the blood, by which the averting of death from those who were mortally ill was brought about through the resurrection of our Lord from the dead, which the cenotaph signifies.
But it is time that we run briefly through the meaning of the psalm, which is as follows. The Prophet divides his prayer; for one part is instituted on our behalf toward God, composed in the common name of all mortals; the other is directed to us from the person of Him who underwent various torments for our sake. The things, therefore, that are on our behalf are these: "Deliver me," He says, "from my enemies, O God, and redeem me from those who rise up against me. And from those who work iniquity, and from men of blood, who have hunted my soul, and have set upon me strongly, having suffered no evil from us; for I have committed nothing against them, nor has any iniquity proceeded from me which would work to the ruin of my enemies, C by which, however, they are agitated as if they had been affected. Without iniquity was our first course established. But see," He says, "all things, what and how they are. See and attend so that You may defend me, and do not delay through Your kindness to seek vengeance from those who do wrong. 'Do not have mercy,'" He says, "'on all who work iniquity.'"
Then He transfers the discourse to a more sublime person, and speaks as if in the place of Him who has heard the prayers, that those enemies will be turned toward evening. Which is nothing else than that they will be driven into the outer darkness; for evening is the beginning and mother of darkness. "And they will hunger like dogs." For those who do not possess the provision of salvation, necessity will cause them to follow in the famine of good things. Thus the rich man hungered in hell, being destitute of the divine dew, and because he was unprepared for these good things, he was thus burned by those flames. But He also says, D "They will encompass the city." To which I think the following meaning is subjected: since everything that is to be cast away and is useless for the use of the living is cast outside the city—whether it be a corpse, or anything else corrupted, or foul-smelling filth—around
A which dogs driven by the necessity of hunger are found, living as they do in the mire that is cast out from the city. By this the discourse, wishing to teach the difference between those who live in virtue and those who live in vice, signifies it by the riddle of the city. For it calls "city" that way of life which is, as it were, inhabited by virtue and is formed toward all decency and proper order. But the things outside the city signify the wickedness that is looked upon as the opposite of virtue, in which one finds every foul-smelling thing of sin, which is found to consist as the refuse of a more civilized life, whether it comes from the rotting of bodies or from unclean filth. Therefore, the inhabitant of the city is a great and precious thing, the man who is truly human, and who carries about, expressed through his life, the character that was impressed upon his nature from the beginning. He, however, who occupies himself with things outside the city is a dog, and not a man, so that it might be clear to everyone how one ought to distinguish dogs from those who are human by nature; I do not mean by the shape of the body’s formation, but by the difference in the life they live. For he who is an inhabitant of the virtuous city is truly a man; but if anyone fixes his zeal—whether regarding foul intemperance or an overflowing avarice, which one might properly call filth, or regarding other types of wickedness—while wandering and creeping outside the circle of that city, he proclaims by his own self that he is a dog, his likeness to God having been transformed into the dog-like nature. By the dogs you are certainly to understand that primordial B dog, the carnivore and murderer, as Scripture speaks of it.
The rest of the psalm likewise describes the dog-like life. For instead of barking, it says that a certain sound comes forth from their mouths, and instead of canine teeth, it says that a sword is hidden under their lips, speaking thus in its words: “Behold, they shall blurt out with their mouth, and a sword is in their lips.” But these terrifying things are objects of laughter for those who have God with them; for it says: “But you, O Lord, shall laugh at them; but as for me, I will keep my strength for you.” And shortly after, it prefigures the economy and arrangement ordained by God for His own creation. For it says: “Do not kill them, but bring them down C from the height of wickedness to the level and even ground of the way of life according to God.” This is what the great Paul, as well as John the Baptist, did: Paul indeed, by destroying every height that exalts itself against the knowledge of God; and John, according to the prophecy of Isaiah, by lowering and leveling every mountain and hill toward the lowly. From these things we learn that the destruction of the men themselves will not take place, lest the divine work be rendered useless by being destroyed into non-existence; but instead of them, sin will be destroyed and will be turned into nothingness. “For the sin of their mouth,” it says, “and the discourse of their lips is pride, and cursing, and D lying; they shall not exist in the wrath of completion.”
falsehood, "in the day of wrath they shall not exist." For when they are no more, "They shall know," he says, "that God rules over Jacob and the ends of the earth." For when wickedness is in no way left behind, the Lord shall certainly be the ruler of the ends, the sin which now lords it over many having been removed from the feet. B Then he repeats the same argument again about those who "shall return at evening, and shall be hungry like dogs, and shall go round about the city," indicating, I think, by the repetition of the discourse, that in both respects, both in wickedness and in what is better, men will continue in the same state after this life in which they now are. For he who now wanders in a circle through impiety, not living in the city, nor keeping the human character in his own life, but acting like a beast through his choice, and becoming a dog, he, too, having fallen from the city above, shall be punished with a famine of good things. But the one who is victorious over opposites, and advances, as the Psalmist says elsewhere, "from virtue to virtue," and exchanges one victory for another, he says, "I will sing of Thy strength; I will rejoice in the morning in Thy mercy, because Thou hast become my helper and my refuge"; and to Thee be glory forever and ever. Amen.
THE SAME, ON THE SIXTH PSALM, CONCERNING THE EIGHTH
Those who, according to the prophetic blessing, go from strength to strength, and set in their hearts beautiful ascents, whenever they grasp some good thought, are led by it as if by the hand to a more sublime thought, through which the ascent to the heights is accomplished for the soul. And thus he who is always stretching forward to those things which are before, will never cease from the good ascent, being always led by sublime thoughts to the contemplation and observation of the things that are above. I have said these things, brothers, applying my mind to the sixth of the psalms, and seeing the necessary sequence of the order, how, after that which follows the inheritance, the discourse concerning the Eighth was added for us. But you are by no means ignorant of the mystery of the Eighth. For it is not fitting that the mind of some should succumb and be carried away to Jewish opinions, who, dragging down the greatness of the mystery of the Eighth D to the unsightly parts of our body, the law of circumcision, and
A the post-partum purification, say that such things are signified by the number of the Eighth. But we, having learned from the great Paul that the law is spiritual, even if this number is contained in the aforementioned laws, prescribing circumcision for the male and, for the woman, sacrifice and oblation in the name of purification, do not reject the law, nor do we interpret it in a lowly and abject manner, knowing that the true circumcision undoubtedly takes place on the eighth day, being performed by the stone knife. And you surely understand by the stone that cuts away what is unclean, that very Stone which is Christ, that is to say, the Word of truth; and that then the nature of the affairs of this life, which brings defilement, ceases, since human life has been transformed toward a more divine and august form. But in order that what is meant by such things may be made evident to all, I shall set forth the argument more clearly, as far as I am able. B The time of this life was completed in the first creation of the world by a single week of days; for the creation of existent things began from the first, and concluded at the seventh with the end of creation. For "there was," he says, "one day," in which the first things were made; and so in the second, the second things, and consequently up to the sixth, everything. And the seventh, having become the end of creation, enclosed within itself the time that was extended alongside the construction of the world, during which the world was being created. C As, therefore, neither heaven came into being from that time, nor was any other part of the world added to those things that had come to be from the beginning; but the creation stood by itself, remaining in its own measures, needing nothing more and lacking nothing; so no other time came into existence beyond that which was manifested together with the preparation of the world, but the nature of time was limited by the week of days. And for this reason, whenever we measure time by days, beginning from the one and concluding the number at the seventh, we return again to the one, always measuring the whole span of time through the cycle of weeks, until, when the things that are moved have passed by, and the flowing motion has at some point ceased, as the Apostle says, those things come which are no longer shaken, which change and alteration no longer reach, D that creation remaining always in the same state in the ages to follow, in which the true circumcision of human nature takes place through the removal of bodily life, and the true purification of the true defilement. For the sin which is born together with human nature is a type of man (since *"in sins did my mother conceive me"*), which He who accomplished the purification of our sins then cleanses entirely, consuming and taking away from the nature of things everything that is bloody and filthy and uncircumcised. And thus we receive the law concerning the Eighth, which both purifies and circumcises; because, when the hebdomadal time has ceased, the eighth day will be established after the seventh; which is called eighth, indeed, because after the seventh
A it arises, and no longer admits the vicissitude of number within itself. For one day remains in perpetuity, never divided by nocturnal darkness. For another sun makes it, which shines forth the true light; which, once it has appeared to us, as the Apostle says, no longer hides in the sunset, but, embracing all things with its illuminating power, generates a perpetual light, void of vicissitude, in the worthy, making those who have participated in that light other suns, as the Word says in the Gospel: "Then shall the righteous shine as the sun."
Since, therefore, he discourse regarding the one who receives the inheritance in the previous Psalm, and the inheritance is laid up and hidden for the worthy in the Eighth, and in this the just judgment of God is also exercised, granting to each according to his deserts: the Prophet rightly introduced the discourse on repentance along with the mention of the Eighth. For who, having remembered the terrible judgment of Christ, is not immediately shaken in his own conscience, and constrained by terror and anguish? Even if one is conscious of having lived a life better rather than worse, yet, looking toward the B exactness and rigor of the judgment, in which even the slightest oversights are brought to examination, he is utterly terrified by the expectation of those fearful things, not knowing what the end and outcome of the judgment will be for him. Therefore, as if having the terrible punishments, that Gehenna and the dark fire and the never-dying worm of conscience, before his eyes—which always stings the soul with shame and renews and integrates the tortures by the memory of a life ill-spent—he now becomes a supplicant to God, entreating not to be delivered over to that fury for examination, nor that the chastisement for what he has transgressed be brought upon him through that wrath. For to those condemned to the bitter discipline of that terrible punishment, that judgment is considered the work of fury and wrath. And because of this, as if already being in the pains and tortures, he imitates the voices of those C suffering, to whom that which is applied for the punishment of the impious seems to be fury and wrath. He says, therefore, that I do not wait until the examination of my hidden sins be brought upon me from that fury through terrible scourges; but I anticipate the necessity that would be laid upon me from that wrath by spontaneous confession. What torture does in those who are being scourged—making the hidden crimes manifest against their will—this the free will does of itself, scourging and punishing itself through repentance, and making public and revealing the sin that was hidden in the secret places. Having said, therefore, "Neither rebuke me in thy fury, nor chastise me in thy wrath," consistently he thereafter flees to mercy, attributing the cause of the evil not so much to free choice as to the weakness of nature: "Because I have been in evils, heal me with mercy; for I came into the passion out of weakness." What, then, is the weakness? "My bones have been dislocated, and dissolved D from their mutual harmony." But he says, "the bones"...
A to signify the sound and constant thoughts and reasonings that strengthen the soul. "Heal me, O Lord, for my bones are troubled." And he interprets the enigma of the statement by what he added to what was said, namely, "My soul is troubled exceedingly." Why then, he says, do you delay the healing, O Lord? How long before you bring your mercy? Do you not see the fleeting nature of human life? Anticipate the necessity of our life by the conversion of my soul, lest when death finally overtakes us, every thought devised for healing be of no further use. For in death there will no longer be anyone able to heal the sickness contracted by vice and wickedness through the memory of God, since on earth confession has power, but in Hades this is not so. Then, as if someone had asked, "How do you implore mercy for the healing of offenses? By what manner have you propitiated the Divine?" he speaks thus: "I have labored in my groaning, and I shall wash away the bed spread with sin B with the stream of my tears." Why these things? "Because," he says, "in fury my eye is troubled, and for this reason I have become a certain ancient and wrinkled one, since the fury produced by enemies in me caused putrefaction in the soul." For if fury alone causes such terror to the one who has sinned through it, how much more likely is it that those who are conscious not only of the passions derived from fury in their own lives, but also of all that desire, greed, pride, ambition, envy, and the rest of the swarm of human evils perpetrates, will be in despair of the saving hope? For this reason, turning the discourse toward his enemies of every kind, he says, "Depart from me, all you who work iniquity." But C in the following verse he demonstrates the good hope of the success that comes to us from repentance. For immediately, as soon as he brought both the words for repentance to God and came to a realization of God's benevolence toward him, he makes known the grace and exults in the gift, saying, "The Lord has heard the voice of my prayer; the Lord has accepted my petition." Therefore, in order that the good thing that came to him from repentance might remain with him perpetually, and his life might not again have need of a second repentance, he prays that his enemies be turned away, being scourged by shame. For the one who, having been ashamed at the attempt to do evil, uses shame as a pedagogue to ensure he is no longer involved in the same things, will abstain from the trial of similar things for the time to come. This is the sequence of the good ascent. The fourth psalm separated the immaterial good from the bodily and more fleshly; D the fifth besought the inheritance of such a good; the sixth, by making mention of the "Eighth," showed the time of the inheritance; the "Eighth" revealed the fear of judgment; the judgment advised us sinners to anticipate the terrible things through repentance. Then, the repentance, having been brought to God according to reason, that which from
we may anticipate the terrible things; then, when penitence is offered to God with reason, A the gain which comes to us more from it, he announced, when he said: "The Lord has heard the voice of him who turns to Him with tears." Upon this being done, so that this good may remain for us unshakable and stable in the future, the Prophet prays that the abolition of the enemy senses and thoughts may occur through shame. For there is no other way for any enemy and lawless conception and sense of the soul to be extinguished, unless shame brings about its abolition from within. For shame exists as a chasm—deeply hollowed out and crushed—on account of a life lived badly, dividing and secluding sin from man as if by a wall. Let us say, therefore, "Let all my enemies be ashamed and turned back greatly." By enemies, we understand specifically his domestic ones, those that proceed from the heart and defile the man. When these have quickly turned away with shame, the hope of glory, which does not end in shame, will receive us, by the grace of the Lord, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.
OF THE HOLY GREGORY OF NYSSA: AN ACCURATE EXPOSITION ON ECCLESIASTES OF SOLOMON
ST. GREGORY OF NYSSA'S ACCURATE EXPOSITION ON ECCLESIASTES OF SOLOMON
(Gentiano Herveto interpreter)HOMILY I
1. The words of Ecclesiastes, son of David, king of Israel in Jerusalem. 2. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, said Ecclesiastes. 3. What profit is there for a man in all his labor, in which he labors under the sun? 4. A generation passes, and a generation comes; but the earth stands forever. 5. And the sun rises, and setting, is drawn to his place. Rising there, he proceeds to the south, and circles to the north. 6. The spirit goes, and upon its circles the spirit returns. 7. All the torrents enter the sea, and the sea is not full. To the place where the torrents go, thither they return to go again. 8. All words are laborious; a man will not be able to speak them. The eye will not be satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing. 9. What is that which has been? That same which will be
and what is that which has been done? That same which will be done. And there is nothing new under the sun, which one might speak and say, Behold, this is new; it has already been in the ages that were before us. 11. There is no memory of those who were first, nor even of those who were to be last; there will be no memory of them among those who will be at the very end. B We have set before us the *Ecclesiastes* for exposition, which possesses a labor of contemplation equal to the magnitude of its profit. For when the meanings of the Proverbs have already exercised the mind—whose dark sayings, wise utterances, enigmas, and varied shifts of speech are contained, as that book’s prologue indicates—then, for those who have grown toward more perfect studies, an ascent occurs to this Scripture, which is so truly lofty and divinely inspired. If, therefore, the proverb and the reflection that prepares us for those studies is so laborious and difficult to contemplate, how much labor must there be in looking into these sublime meanings which are now proposed to us for contemplation? For just as those who practiced the art of wrestling under a trainer cast themselves off for greater sweats and labors in the gymnastic contests, so the doctrine of the Proverbs seems to me to be a certain exercise, training and softening our souls like children for the ecclesiastical contests. If, then, this exercise is accomplished with such sweats and labors, what must we think of the contests themselves? No matter how great or immeasurable they are rightly considered by the mind, no one can with words reach the dignity of showing how many labors the arena of this Scripture displays to those contending for the security of intellectual things through athletic experience, so that they might not show reason falling, but rather keep the mind upright through C the truth in every connection of thought.
However, since there is also this divine commandment, that we must search the Scriptures, it is altogether necessary that, even if our mind, in pursuing the truth, is found not to attain the magnitude of the meanings, yet, so that we might not appear to disregard the Lord’s commandment, we should perform our duty to the best of our ability by placing our study in the divine word. Let us search, therefore, as we are able, the Scripture set before us. For He who gave the commandment to search will also grant the strength for this very thing, as it is written: "The Lord will give a word to those who preach with great power."
D And let the inscription of the book first be set before us for contemplation. In every Church, Moses and the law are read, the prophets, the psalms, all history, and whatever there is of the Old and New Testaments; all things are proclaimed in the Churches. How, then, is this one alone and eminent work embellished with the inscription of "Ecclesiastes"? What, therefore, is it that we think regarding these things?
A For in all the other Scriptures, both histories and prophecies, the aim is directed toward certain other things that are not very useful to the Church. For what does it matter to the Church to learn with precision the calamities of wars, or who were the founders of nations and cities, or who were led away into colonies by some, or what kingdoms shall appear in the course of time, or how many marriages and procreations of children have been diligently recorded in writing, or whatever things can be learned in any Scripture; what have these contributed greatly to the aim of the Church’s piety? But the teaching of this book looks only to the ecclesiastical life, explaining those things through which one might order their life rightly and according to virtue. For the aim of what is said here is to raise the mind above sense, and to cause it to rest, leaving behind all things that appear great and brilliant among those that are visible, and to raise it up to those things that the comprehension of the senses cannot reach, and to conceive a desire for those things that the sense does not attain. B Perhaps, too, the inscription looks toward the leader of the Church. For who else could the true Ecclesiastes be, who gathers into one fullness those things that are scattered, and who gathers into one assembly those who have been led astray in many ways by various errors, if not the true King of Israel, the Son of God, to whom Nathanael said: "You are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel"? If, then, these are the words of the King of Israel, and he himself is also called the Son of God, as the Gospel says, then he is also called Ecclesiastes. Perhaps it is not without reason that we refer the meaning of the inscription to this sense, so that we may learn from this that the power of these words is referred to Him who established the Church through the Gospel. For He says: "The words of Ecclesiastes, son of David." Thus also Matthew, at the beginning of the Gospel, names him the son of David, calling the Lord so. C "Vanity of vanities," said Ecclesiastes, "all is vanity." That is understood to be vain which cannot subsist, which has its essence only in the utterance of words; for a thing that has substance does not appear along with the meaning of the name, but it is some idle and empty sound, which is uttered under the guise of some word by syllables, falling upon the ears without meaning, just as some people in play invent names that mean nothing. This, then, is one kind of vanity. But there is said to be another vanity, of those things which have no use, which are done with great zeal and effort with no goal proposed: such as the buildings of children in the sand, D and shooting arrows at the stars, and hunting the winds, and the contest of a runner against his own shadow, when someone strives to tread upon the top of his shadow, and if we find anything else of the sort among things done rashly, all of which are subjected to the word of vanity. And this too is often...
A said, when someone looking at some goal, and pursuing as if it were something useful among those things which are proposed with vehement study, does each thing; then, when something contrary has happened, the labor has been in vain; and then, that nothing has correctly succeeded from that great labor, is signified by the word "vain." For it is customary to speak of such things thus: "In vain I have labored, and in vain I have hoped, and in vain I have undergone many toils." And that we may not go through each one in detail, among which the name of vanity is properly applied, let us grasp the sense of this word in a few points. Vanity is either a word that does not fall under thought and understanding, or a useless thing, or a counsel that cannot stand, or a pursuit that does not reach its end, or, to speak in summary, that which cannot exist in any useful thing.
If, therefore, we have understood the meaning of "vain," we must examine what is intended by the "vanity of vanities." But the sense that is sought will be better known to us if we examine the custom of Scripture in those things that are understood to be better and more excellent. The action of those things that are necessary and useful is called "work" by Scripture; but of those things upon which study is bestowed, whatever excels, and whatever looks toward the worship of God itself, are called "works of works," as history declares, showing, I suppose, by the argument, through a certain analogy, what is the most excellent of those things upon which study is bestowed. For whatever proportion the study bestowed upon works has to idleness in general, such a proportion has the operation which is directed to the higher and more excellent of those things upon which study is bestowed to the other works. B Thus also something is called "holy" by Scripture; and again "holy of holies," as if by an equal measure that which is holy excels that which is from the holy in holiness; and again of this, the "holy of holies," which is considered in sanctification by way of supereminence.
What, therefore, we have learned in the case of the better argument, by the custom of Scripture signifying the intensity of the underlying meaning by such a mode, this we shall also understand in the case of the "vanity of vanities," and we shall not err. For it does not say that those things which appear in existing things are absolutely vain, but that they are such in a certain supereminence of the signification of vanity; just as if someone were to say "more dead than the dead," and "more lifeless than the lifeless," even though a comparative intensity has no place in things of this sort; yet it is said by this word to declare the supereminence of that which is signified. Just as, therefore, we understand "works of works," and "holy of holies," whose supereminence is interpreted in that which is better: so also the "vanity of vanities" shows an insurmountable supereminence in vanity. C And let no one suppose that what is said is an accusation of creation; for indeed the accusation would pass over to Him who created all things, if the craftsman of these things were to appear to us, He who fashioned all things from things that were not, if all things were of vanity. But since the construction of man is twofold, with the soul meeting the body; and it is divided...
A appropriately according to each of the elements observed in us, so too is the type of life. For one sort belongs to the soul, and another to the body; for the one is mortal and perishable, while the other is impassible and incorruptible. And the former looks only to what is present, while the goal of the latter extends into eternity. Since, therefore, there is a great difference between the mortal and the immortal, and the temporal and the eternal, the voice of Ecclesiastes tends toward this: that one ought not to look to this sensory life, which, if it be compared with the life that truly is, is nothing and cannot stand. But nevertheless, one might say that this statement is made not without blaming the Creator, since both soul and body are from Him. For if the life that is lived through the flesh is accused, and God is the creator of the flesh, this reproach must necessarily be referred back to Him.
B But this will certainly be said by someone who has not yet become external to the flesh, and has not diligently and accurately looked toward the higher life. For he who is instructed in the divine mysteries does not at all ignore that the life which is conformed to the divine nature is appropriate and natural to human beings; while the sensory life, which is lived out through the action of the senses, is given to nature for this purpose: that the knowledge of things which fall under sight might be a guide for the soul to the recognition of things that are not visible, just as Wisdom says: "From the greatness of the beauty of the creatures, the Progenitor of all things is proportionately seen." C But human lack of counsel did not see, through the things that are seen, Him who is to be admired; rather, it admired the things it saw. Since, therefore, the operation of the senses is temporary and short-lived, we learn through this sublime voice that he who looks to these things looks at nothing. But he who is led through these things to the understanding of the Being, and has discerned the stable nature through passing things, and has come to the reflection of that which always exists in the same way, has seen what is truly good, and what he has seen, he possesses; for the knowledge of this good is its possession. "For what is," he says, "the profit remaining to man in all his labor with which he labors under the sun?" He called the life lived in the body a labor, seeking profit through no rightly done deed. D "For what profit," he says, "remains to man?" That is to say, what redounds to the soul through the life-sustaining labor for those who live looking to the visible? Or in what consists life? What among the goods that fall under sight remains the same? The sun performs its circuit, alternately shining and being obscured, illuminating the air above us when it shows itself to the lands, and drawing darkness after it through its setting. The earth, however, stands, and remains immovable in the fixed, and that which stands is not moved, and that which is moved does not stand. All things through themselves, in every interval of time, are shown to be nothing, being changed by the alteration toward that which is newer. The sea is a vessel for the waters flowing together from every side, and
A neither does the confluence cease, nor is the sea increased. What is the scope of the path for the waters that are always filling what is being filled? For what reason does the sea receive the inflows of the waters, remaining without increase throughout due to this addition?
He says these things so that, from the very elements in which the life of men consists, he might interpret how minimally those things which we pursue with great zeal among us persist. For if this set course of the sun has no end, nor does the alternating succession of light and darkness admit of a standstill, and the earth, condemned to remain, continues stationary in its fixed position, while the rivers toil in vain, being consumed by the insatiable nature of the sea, and the sea receives the inflows of the waters to no purpose, taking into its gulfs nothing more than what is always being poured in from the very beginning; if these things are so, how is it reasonable for that of man, who also has his life in these things, to be otherwise? And why are we astonished if a generation goes and a generation comes, and this course does not desert its nature, with the incoming generation of men both pushing out that which entered before, and being pushed out by that which is entering? What then does the word of the Church cry out through these things? That you, O men, looking at the whole, should understand your own nature. What you see around the heavens and the earth, what you behold in the sun, what you observe in the sea, let these things also interpret your own nature to you. B For there is, according to the likeness of the sun, both a rising and a setting of our nature; there is one way for all, one circle of the course of life. When we have risen through generation, we are again drawn down to our kindred place. For when our life has suffered its setting, our light also descends under the earth, just as when our perception of light happens; and yet the earth is entirely resolved into that which is kindred, and this cycle is perpetually revolving in the same things. As in the case of the sun, he says, the course is that, rising in the upper part of the earth, it travels through the southern regions, while being under the earth it passes beneath the opposite, northern part; and in this way, always revolving, it circles its own course, and again wheeling round, it makes its way. "It turns about," he says, "in a circle"; so therefore does your spirit also move (naming the human spirit as a whole from a part), traversing this circular motion through similar things. "For the spirit goes," he says, "and the spirit returns to its own circles." He who has considered these things would not receive small benefit for his own life. What is more brilliant than light? What is clearer than rays? And yet, if the sun goes under the earth, the light is hidden, and the ray disappears.
Looking toward these things, let one spend his own life more modestly, despising the splendor here, having learned from the things that are seen that that which is bright and illustrious does not endure perpetually; but the successions of opposites are swift, C and nothing remains such as it is in the present, neither youth, nor beauty,
A nor the splendor of powers and dominions. And these things are indeed for those who live in some prosperity. But for those to whom the life lived according to virtue seems laborious, let the soul be schooled by the example of the earth in enduring the things that are grievous. "The earth stands for ever." What is more laborious than this immovable firmness? And yet its station extends for ever; but to you, the time of the contest is short. Do not be more soulless than the earth; do not be more foolish than those things which lack sensation, you who have been allotted reason and are governed by intellect in life; but "continue," as the Apostle says, "in those things which you have learned and have been assured of," in a steady and immovable station. For this also is one of the divine commandments: "Be ye steadfast and immovable." Let temperance remain unshaken in you, faith firm, charity unchangeable, and the station in every good thing immovable, just as the earth that is in you stands for ever. B But if anyone is agape toward greed, and having spread the intemperance of desire like some sea, is insatiable for the profits flowing in from every side, let him look to the sea that is here and cure his disease. For just as that [sea] does not overstep its own measure amidst the myriad influxes of waters, but remains in the same fullness, just as if no addition were made to it from the waters, in the same way human nature, encompassed by its own measures in the enjoyment of what is at hand, cannot expand its greedy desire for enjoyment beyond the measure of nature through the multitude of revenues and gains, but what flows in ceases, while the power of enjoyment is kept within its own boundaries. If, therefore, the enjoyment cannot overflow beyond the measure of nature, why do we draw in the influxes of revenues, never pouring them out for the benefit of others as they arrive? Since, however, according to the definition of vanity given to us—that either a useless word or a useless thing pertains to vanity—he rightly begins his book from this point: so that C we may not regard anything that is done or anything that is said as subsisting, if we look toward the goal herein proposed. For all the labor of men, which is occupied with things pertaining to life, is plainly the play of children in the sand, in which the delight taken in the things that are done ceases as soon as the labor put into what has been done ends. For as soon as one has ceased from labor, at the same time the sand having collapsed leaves no trace of those things which were labored upon. D This is human life: sand is ambition, sand is power, sand is wealth, sand is each of those things which we enjoy with great labor through the flesh, in which, as things that are entirely unable to subsist, childish souls laboring in vain, and enduring many toils regarding each of these, if only they should leave behind the place of sand—I mean the life spent in the flesh—then they will recognize how vain in this matter...
is the pleasure of life. For when it has passed, they bring with them nothing but their own conscience. B This is why the great Ecclesiastes appears to me, as one who was already beyond these things and who, as a soul naked and separated, had transitioned into a life devoid of matter, to have uttered those things which it is reasonable to expect that we, too, shall utter when we have moved outside this coastal place, about which the sand is—that which is spewed out by the sea of this life—and we have been separated from all the waves that beat about us and roar around us. From the sea we here contemplate, carrying with us only the memory of those things upon which we have bestowed our labor, we say: "Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity; and what profit has a man in all his labor which he labors under the sun?" For in this way, according to my reasoning, this statement belongs to every soul when, having been stripped of the things here, it has migrated to the life that is hoped for. For whether one has accomplished something of the more sublime things in this life, it denounces that in which it once existed—when compared with what has been found, it holds in contempt that which has passed—or whether, having been strongly affected toward matter, it has seen those things which occurred beyond expectation, and by experience has learned how great is the folly in those things upon which effort is bestowed in this life: then, lamenting, it will utter this voice, just as we humans do out of repentance, recounting our own foolish choices in our lamentations and saying, "Vanity of vanities," and what follows. "All," he says, "are toilsome, and a man shall not be able to speak." And yet, nothing is considered easier or more readily available than speaking. For what labor is it for one who speaks what he wishes? The tongue is moist and versatile, and without effort it shapes itself to whatever type of utterance it desires; the intake of respiratory air is unhindered, by means of which it produces sounds; the operation of the cheeks is painless, and at the same time the cooperation of the lips toward the articulation of what is being said is effortless. What labor, then, does he perceive in a word? For we do not emit speech by digging earth, or rolling stones, or carrying burdens upon our shoulders, or performing any other toilsome tasks; but the thought that has taken form within us, having been revealed through the voice, becomes a word. C But since such a word has no labor, we must understand who are the "toilsome words" by which a man shall not be able to speak. "Let the presbyters," he says, "be counted worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in word." A presbyter, according to usage, is called one who has emerged from disorderly youth and has arrived at a state of old age; for if someone should be unstable in his reasoning and possess a life in disorder, such a one is not yet a presbyter—even if he should happen to appear gray-haired—but is still a man. Therefore, those words which are truly words—those that are turned toward what is soul-beneficial and useful for men—these are full of sweats and toils, and bring with them much effort in order that they may become words. "For the laboring farmer must be the first to partake of the fruits," says the craftsman of such words, implying that the "word" must not be understood as a mere utterance, but as that which resides in deeds.
being set forth for the instruction of life to those who see, instead of [mere] speech for those who are taught. A All such discourses are therefore laborious for those who expound virtue, in that they must first perform in themselves what they teach. For this is what it means to be the first to partake of the fruits, which we cultivate for ourselves through virtue before others, or perhaps the discourse also interprets the weakness of our rational nature.
For since the mind, having removed itself from the senses—which have been named "vanity"—penetrates in a way into the contemplation of invisible things and attempts to set forth to the discourse what it has conceived in the mind, then a great labor comes upon the discourse through this interpretative voice, which finds no mechanism for the clarification of things that cannot be uttered. B We see the heaven; we perceive with our senses the radiance of the luminaries; we have walked upon the earth; we draw air into our mouth; we use water for what nature seems to require; we admit fire into the communion of life; yet if we wish to ponder any of these things—what each of the things that appear is according to the principle of its being, from whence or how it has its existence—a man will not be able to speak [of it], even if he should surpass all others, since all knowledge of comprehension is weak when it comes to expressing things that it cannot attain.
But if the discourse concerning these things has a labor that surpasses the human power and nature of speech, what must one believe happens to the discourses concerning the Word Himself, or the Father of the Word? C Surely every elevation of speech and every loud proclamation is a certain kind of obscurity and silence, if it be judged by the true meaning of what is sought; to such an extent that this one word alone can be properly said of Him: that even if one should move all thoughts, and nothing should be lacking of divine concepts, if the voice is judged by the very dignity of the subject matter, that which it has spoken is not speech. For a man cannot speak [of Him]. For sight does not halt the contemplation that comes to the soul through the eyes concerning that which is seen, but we are always looking as if we had not yet seen, and we still have in ignorance that which is grasped through the sense. Sight cannot penetrate color; but it receives the measure of its own operation from that which appears on the surface of things that exist. Wherefore it says: "The eye shall not be satisfied with seeing, nor the ear be filled with hearing." D The auditory faculty, receiving the discourse about each thing, does not have the nature to be filled. For no discourse will be found that perfectly comprehends in itself that which is sought. How, then, will the ear be filled with the hearing of the things that are sought, since there is nothing that fills?
Then, after these words, he questions himself and answers himself. For having asked, "What is that which has been?" "It is," he says, "that which is to be."
A What, then, is the intention of this question? Since, from our understanding of his previous reasoning, we might object to him and say: "If all these things are vanity, it is obvious that none of the things that did not subsist have 'been.' For what is vain can in no way exist. And what cannot exist, no one would count among things that have been. But if these things are not, tell us what it is that 'has been,' or how it remains in essence." His answer to the question is therefore brief: "Do you wish to know what that which 'has been' is? Consider what that which 'is to be' B is, and you will recognize what 'has been.'" And this is what he means: "Consider, O man, what sort of person you will become once you have elevated yourself through virtue, if you have fashioned your soul with all good qualities, if you have removed yourself from all stains of vice, if you have washed away from your own nature every filth of material pollution; consider, I say, what you will be when you are adorned in such a way, and what kind of form you will be clothed with." If you grasp this by reason, you have been taught what that which "has been" in the beginning is—namely, that which was made in the image and likeness of God. And where is that now—I will say to the one who teaches these C things, which at one time "was" and is hoped for again in the future, yet now "is not"? But he who teaches us the divine mysteries answers in the same way, that for this reason present things are named vanity, because those realities are not among the things that are present. "And what," he says, "is that which has been made? It is that which is to be made." Let no one of those who hear this think it a wordiness and a vain repetition of words regarding the difference between that which "has been" and that which "has been made." For the discourse displays through each of these terms the difference between the soul and the flesh. The soul "has been," and the body "has been made." D It is not because the emphasis of the words signifies one thing and another that the discourse makes use of this distinction of terms in each of the meanings, but so that it might grant you to reason about each, that the soul was in the beginning, and having been purified, will appear again later. That—the body—was "made," being fashioned by the hands of God, which the resurrection will show in the proper times. For whatever you shall see it to be after the resurrection, such it was entirely when it was first made. For the resurrection is nothing else than the restoration to the original state.
Wherefore he adds to these what follows, saying that there is nothing outside of that which is from the beginning. "For there is nothing," he says, "new under the sun," as if he were to say: "If it is not according to that which is original, it is nothing at all, but only seems to be." For there is nothing, he says, "new under the sun," so that someone could speak and point out any of the things that happen as if this were new and truly existed. This is the sense of what has been said. The phrasing, however, is in this manner: "And there is nothing new under the sun that will speak and say, 'Behold, this is new.'" And he adds to the things that have been said by those things which follow, saying: "If anything, he says, has truly been, it is that which happened in the ages that were before us." For he indicates this meaning by these very words.
A If, however, oblivion of things that have occurred has prevailed, do not be surprised; for even those things which now exist will be overtaken by oblivion. For when our nature inclined toward vice, we forgot the good; and when it turns toward the good, our dissolution follows, and again the evil will be covered over by oblivion. For I think this is the meaning in what has been said, where he says, "There is no remembrance of the first things, and indeed of the last things that have happened, there will be no remembrance." It is as if he were saying: The things that have come to pass in the latter days will blot out the memory of those things which occurred after the initial happiness, through which the human race was in evil. For there will be no memory of them with those who are to be in the last days. This means: the final state will utterly blot out the memory of the nature of evils, in Christ Jesus, to whom be glory and power for ever and ever. Amen.
HOMILY II
"I," he says, "the Ecclesiastes." B We have learned, however, who the Ecclesiastes is: he who gathers into one that which has gone astray and been dispersed, and makes all things one flock, so that there is nothing that does not hear the beautiful voice of the shepherd, which makes all things alive. "For the words," he says, "which I speak are spirit and are life." He calls himself Ecclesiastes as physician, and life, and resurrection, and light, and way, and door, and truth, and all names of humanity and benevolence toward men. C Just as, therefore, the voice of a physician is appropriate for the sick, so the Word of life is effective among the dead, who, when they hear the voice of the Son of man, no longer remain in their ancient mortality; but those who are in the graves seek the voice of the resurrection, and the word of light is suitable for those in darkness, and the way is smooth and level for those who have strayed, and the door is for those who need to enter: so, too, the Ecclesiastes speaks in every way with those who are in the Church.
Therefore, the Ecclesiastes speaks to us; and let us, who are the Church, hear his words. For just as the chorus looks to the coryphaeus, that is, its leader, and sailors to the helmsman, and the army to the general, so too do those D who are in the assembly of the Church look to the leader of the Church. What, then, does the Ecclesiastes say? "I, Ecclesiastes, was king over Israel in Jerusalem." When was this? Was it not entirely when he was appointed by Him upon Zion, His holy mountain, proclaiming the commandment of the Lord? To whom the Lord said, "You are my Son, today I have begotten you." For He said that He had begotten "today" Him who is the creator of the universe, the Father of the ages, so that by adding the temporal name to the time of generation, the Word might indicate not the essence which was before the ages, but that generation in time which took place in the flesh for the salvation of men.
A The true Ecclesiastes pursues these things, teaching, I suppose, the great mystery of godliness, for the sake of which God was manifested in the flesh. "For I have given," he says, "my heart to seek and to investigate in wisdom concerning all things that have been made under heaven." This is the reason for the Lord’s sojourn among men in the flesh: to give His heart to the investigation, in His own wisdom, of all things that have come to pass under heaven. For the things above the heavens had no need of one to investigate them, just as there is no need of a physician for that which does not suffer from disease. Since, however, evils are upon the earth—for that creeping and violent beast, the serpent, which moves by sliding upon its breast and belly, consumes the earth, feeding on nothing heavenly, but crawling upon that which is trodden underfoot—it always looks toward that which is trodden, watching the heel of human footsteps, and injecting poison into those who have lost the power to trample upon serpents. For this reason He gave His heart to seek and to investigate concerning all things that have been made under heaven. For in the things above the heavens, the Prophet sees the divine magnificence as untroubled, saying, "For His magnificence has been exalted above the heavens," since the heavenly part also was humbled through vice. For thus says the Psalmist, that they were humbled because of their sins. B To investigate this, the Ecclesiastes came: to see what has happened under heaven that was not so before, how vanity entered in, how that which has no existence prevailed, and what is the dominion of that which does not exist. For evil is unsubstantial, because it derives its substance from that which is not; but that which is not from that which is, does not exist at all according to its own nature—yet, nevertheless, vanity holds sway over those who have been made like unto vanity.
He came, therefore, to investigate with His own wisdom what has happened under the sun, what is the confusion of the things here, how that which is has been enslaved to that which is not, how that which has no substance prevails against the Existing One. "And he knows that God has given a grievous distraction to the sons of men, to be distracted therein." C But it is not pious to think, as one might readily suppose, that God Himself gave this evil distraction to men; for then the cause of evils would be referred back to Him. For He who is by nature good is also utterly the provider of good things; because every good tree brings forth good fruit, and neither are grapes gathered from thorns, nor does a thorn grow from a vine. Therefore, that which is good by nature could not bring forth anything evil from its own treasures. For neither does a good man speak evil from the abundance of his heart, but he speaks things appropriate to his own nature; how much more then would the Fountain of good things not pour forth anything evil from His own nature? But the more pious understanding suggests that one should interpret this to mean that the good is the gift of God. And this is that which is D
A indicated by the word "gave"—not that He Himself implanted evil into human life, but that man, on account of his lack of counsel, used the good things given by God as instruments of evil. It is customary for Holy Scripture to express such concepts in such words; for instance, "God gave them up to passions of dishonor," and B "God gave them up to a reprobate mind," and "He hardened the heart of Pharaoh," and that which says, "Why did You make us stray from Your way, O Lord, and hardened our hearts so as not to fear You?" and "He made them wander in a pathless way, not in a road," and "You deceived me, and I was deceived," and whatever else is similar to these. In these, a precise understanding does not establish that anything from God was innate in human nature, but it accuses the power and the freedom, which is indeed good and a gift of God given to nature; but it turned into evil on account of the falling toward the opposite.
Therefore, the Ecclesiastes saw all things done in the life that is under the sun, that all was vanity. "For there was no one who understood, there was no one who sought after God," since "all turned aside, together they became useless." C For this reason, when he had said, "And behold, all is vanity," he subjoined the cause, namely that God is not the cause of these things, but the disposition of the human impulse, which he called "spirit." And he accuses this spirit, not that it was such from the beginning—for it would be outside the reach of accusation if it had been created as such—but that it was twisted and estranged from the order of the cosmos. For "that which is twisted," he says, "will not be able to be adorned," that is, it is not possible for what is twisted to be appropriate for a creation adorned by God. D For just as an artisan, who by design crafts something for himself, directs with a rule and a plumb line the parts that complete the manufacture of a vessel through the skillful arrangement toward one another—if any of these is not directed according to the plumb line, the straight harmony does not at all admit of the twisting, but it must be that that part too is brought to the plumb line and becomes straight, if it is to be fitted together with that which is straight—so also the Ecclesiastes says that the nature which has been twisted by vice cannot be innate in a creation adorned by the right reason. "And a defect," he says, "cannot be numbered." That "to defect" means "to be in need," the custom of Scripture teaches us, and this can be proved from many.
A For Paul, who is remembered in every place and among all, knows both to be in need and to abound; and he who had squandered his paternal substance by living prodigally, when famine seized him, began to be in need; and Paul, when recounting things concerning the saints, among the other bodily afflictions which they had suffered, adds this also: "being in need and afflicted." Therefore, here too, when the word spoke of a "defect," it indicated by that term that which is lacking; but that which is lacking cannot be numbered among things that exist. For the disciples, as long as their company was whole, were twelve in number; but after the son of perdition was lost, the number became maimed, because that which was lacking was not numbered among those who remained; for after Judas, there were and were named eleven. "A defect," therefore, he says, "will not be able to be numbered." What is the significance of this saying? That once we, too, were included in the number of all; for we also were counted in the holy hundred of rational sheep. But after one sheep, that is, our nature, had strayed from the mountain pastures, having been dragged by vice to this dry and parched place, no longer is that same number mentioned as the flock of those that have not wandered, but ninety-nine are named; for what is empty exists outside the number of those that subsist, because a defect will not be able to be numbered. He therefore came to seek and save that which was lost, and B having taken it up upon His shoulders, to restore to those that are that which was being lost in the vanity of things that do not exist, so that the number of God's creation might again be whole, when that which had been lost was saved with those that do not perish.
Who, then, is the return of that which had wandered, and what is the mode of the reversal from evils to good, we are taught in what follows. For He who was tempted in all things according to the likeness [of our nature] without sin, discourses with us from out of our own, He who took upon Himself our infirmities, [and] through those very infirmities of nature, points out the path that is outside of vice. For now, understand that Wisdom is discoursing through Solomon himself according to the flesh; and is discoursing of those things through which we might be most effectively led to despise those things by the pursuit of which men are held. For his discourse is not similar to the discourse of the many, who do not have in their power what is pleasing and dear to them, so that he is on that account unworthy of belief, as one who denounces things of which he is not experienced. C For we do not learn all things by our own experience, but only by thoughts do we come to know those things of which poverty forbids us to enjoy the experience of their pleasure. And if we should advise anyone to hold as nothing those things that are held in honor by men, there is a ready objection for the one who hears this: that we despise those things for this reason, because they are not known to us by experience. But in the one who discourses these things to us, all such contradiction ceases. For it is Solomon who says these things; and this Solomon was the third among the kings of D
A Israel, after that Saul, and David who was chosen by God. Having received the rule from his father, and having already grown into the greatness of the dynasty, he is proclaimed king to the Israelites; he who, no longer wearing down his subjects through war and battle, but dwelling in peace under absolute power, did not set his efforts into acquiring those things he did not have, but into enjoying those things that were already his, inasmuch as there was no obstacle to him in any of the things he desired. For his wealth extended along with his desires, and his leisure for enjoyment was unconstrained, with nothing unwanted interrupting his conduct in those things that were pleasant; and since he was wise, and clever enough by his intelligence to devise whatever was for his pleasure, he said that he had devised such-and-such of the things sought after for enjoyment, and having done everything which he listed subsequently in his discourse, he said that he had learned by experience itself that the end of those things in which such effort is placed is vanity. B He applied such an order to the narrative, that first, in the earliest times of his life, he gave leisure to education, and his zeal was not softened by such labors; rather, he used the choice of the spirit, that is, the impulse of nature, for the increase of knowledge, even if the object of his zeal was attained only with labor; and having thus grown through wisdom, he did not consider by reason—which is occupied with the perturbations of the soul and is devoid of reason and consists in corporeal things—that pleasure is the deception of men, but that he also C knew by experience itself the vanity of those things in which such effort is placed. And this is indeed the scope of those things that have been examined. It is time, furthermore, to set forth the contemplation, following the context of the written words word for word.
“I spoke in my heart, saying: Behold, I have been magnified.” Since I saw in myself that greatness which comes from power, and the splendor of the kingdom growing suddenly; but above all these, I valued the possession of wisdom, which can be acquired in no other way than by labors and sweats. Therefore, having said, “I spoke in my heart, saying: Behold, I have been magnified,” he subjoined, “And I added wisdom.” For the magnitude of power and dominion that had accrued to me automatically, I increased by the addition of wisdom; having said this to myself, D that it behooved me on this account to be shown superior to the kings who preceded me, and to have the advantage in wisdom. “For I added,” he says, “wisdom beyond all who were before me in Jerusalem, and I considered how these things might come to pass.” For who does not know that wisdom consists in those who willingly place labor and effort into the thought of those things which have been worked out by others before? “And therefore,” he says, “my heart saw many things, wisdom and knowledge,” inasmuch as the knowledge of these things cannot be acquired by chance. “But because,” he says, “I gave my heart to know wisdom and knowledge,” as if I would not have learned those things, had not labor and meditation preceded the knowledge of them. “But also parables,” he says,
and “knowledge I have known.” Just as the Lord, when teaching His hearers in the Gospel, brings the word concerning the kingdom before their eyes—or the pearl, or the treasure, or the wedding, or the grain, or the leaven, or A by recounting some one of these things, he does not say that these things are the kingdom; rather, by the comparison of those things signified in them, he shows parabolically to those who hear certain flashes and riddles of things that are beyond comprehension. “And for this purpose,” he says, “was the choice of my spirit, that there might be to me a multitude of wisdom, so that by becoming wise, I might not miss the knowledge of beings, nor be outside the finding of what is beneficial.” For knowledge consists of wisdom; and knowledge makes judgment easier for one who attends. Yet this does not naturally come to those who are diligent without labor, but he who has added knowledge to himself also inevitably adds labor to his learning. B Therefore he says, “He who adds knowledge, adds pain.” And having become such a one, he then condemns pleasure as vain.
For he says, “I said in my heart, Come now, I will test you in gladness, and behold, in good things. And this too is vanity.” For he did not immediately give himself to such a trial, nor did he fall into the participation of pleasant things without having tasted the more austere and dignified life; but having been exercised in those things, and having first exhibited himself in his character as one endowed with an unemotional and unyielding manner—by which especially the lessons of wisdom come to those who are diligent—he then descends to things thought pleasant to the senses, not being dragged toward them by passion, C but for the sake of examining whether the perception that has become involved in these things contributes at all to the knowledge of the truly good. For then, from the beginning, he declares enmity against laughter, and calls that passion a “whirling,” which in meaning is equal to distraction and madness. For if one were to call laughter by any other name properly, it is neither a word nor a deed accomplished for any purpose. But an indecorous relaxing of the face, and a convulsion of the spirit, and a quivering of the whole body, and a stretching of the cheeks, and an exposure of the teeth and gums, and contortions of the palate and neck, and a senseless breaking of the voice, which is interrupted together with the trembling of the spirit—what else, he says, D could this be but madness? Therefore he says, “To laughter I said, distraction,” as if he were saying to laughter, “You are insane and have gone out of your mind and do not remain within the bounds of a composed state, voluntarily acting indecorously, and perverting your form in that passion, working this perversion for no useful end.” “And I said to gladness: What is this you do?” which is equivalent to saying, “Towards pleasure I have held a contrary position, suspecting
and resisted it, holding its approach in suspicion, just as if some thief were secretly entering the inner chambers of the soul. I never permitted it to obtain mastery over the intellect. For if I merely perceived pleasure creeping toward my senses like some wild beast, I immediately resisted it and stood against it, saying to this servile and irrational joy: "What are you doing? Why do you effeminate the virtue of nature? Why do you soften the strength of the mind? Why do you unnerve the powers of the soul? Why do you bring ruin upon reason? Why do you cast the darkness of your own fog upon the purity of the serenity of my clear thoughts?"
Having done this, he says, and things of such a kind, B "I considered whether my heart would draw my flesh as wine." This means: how the concern for things that fall under the intellect might be more powerful than the impulses of the flesh, so that nature might not be at variance with itself, with the mind desiring one thing while the flesh drags it toward another; but rather that the intellect, endowed with the power of our soul, might render the spirit of our flesh obedient and subjugated, in that it is less attracted and consumed by that which abounds—just as it happens in the case of those who are thirsty. For wine does not remain in the cup if it is brought to a thirsty mouth, but is transferred to him who drinks, and it is clear that it is drawn inward with great force. When this had been done, the path to the knowledge of things that are was secured without error or any obstacle. "My heart," he says, C "has guided me in wisdom," through which I repressed the assaults of pleasures, and this instruction became the cause of my gaining mastery over joy. For this is how the sequence of the passage holds together.
Now that which was the object of his greatest zeal in his study was that life should not be occupied with any vain thing, but that he should find that good which, once a person has attained it, does not stray from the judgment of what is profitable—that which is perpetual and not temporary, and extends throughout the whole of life, so that it might be a hope for good for every age, the first, the middle, and the final age, and for the entire number of days. "Until," he says, "I see what is the good for the sons of men, which they shall do under the sun, for the number of the days of their life." For those things in which we place our zeal through the flesh, even if they entice the senses as much as possible for the present, have for only a moment that which cheers us. For there is nothing among things that happen in the body that can be enjoyed perpetually; D but the pleasure of drinking ends at the same time with satiety, and likewise in eating, fullness extinguishes the appetite; and if there is any other desire, it fades in the same way through the participation of that which was desired, and if it emerges again, it fades again. But nothing that is pleasant to the senses endures forever, nor does it remain in the same way. Added to these is the fact that one thing is good for infancy, another for youth, another for one who is of more advanced age, another for one who has passed the flower of his age, and again another for the old man who is already decrepit and truly a fossil. But I, he says, was seeking that good which is equally good for every age and every time of life; of which there is no hope of satiety, and no fullness is found; but it extends along with
participation, and desire increases along with enjoyment; and it is not circumscribed by the age of the one who desires. But by how much the more one delights in the good, by so much more does the desire extend along with the delights, and the delights are kindled along with the desire; and for the whole time of life it is always a good for those who pursue it, in no way changed by the instability of ages and times, a good which is the same for one who closes his eyes and for one who looks upon it, for one who is prospering and for one who is sorrowing, for one who passes the night and for one who passes the day, and, to speak once for all, for A all who are in this life. It is not rendered worse or better, nor is it diminished or increased by any of those things that befall one by circumstance. This is, at least according to my own account, that which is truly good, which Solomon was seeking to see—what men were doing under the sun according to all the number of the days of their life—which appears to me to be nothing else than the work of faith, whose operation is common to all, is equally proposed to those who desire it, is all-powerful, and is permanently enduring in life. This is the good work which may it also be brought about in us, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.
HOMILY III
What the ecclesiastical voice will teach us after this, it is time to examine. We have learned B first of all what we have learned, that he who gathers all of creation, and seeks what has perished, and brings together into one what had gone astray, he examines the earthly life. For the sub-celestial is earthly, which the discourse calls "that which is under heaven," in which deception and "that which is not" hold sway. And in the second interpretation we have learned that the accusation of the living according to pleasure and passionate disposition was made from the person of Solomon, so that the abandonment of such things might become credible to us, seeing that he who had the greatest power for the enjoyment of pleasure cast aside as nothing all the things that are eagerly pursued by men. What, then, do we learn in the third place, in consequence, on the present occasion? That which I think is most appropriate for those who assemble in the Church to learn—I mean the confession regarding those things that have not been done according to reason, which C the passion of shame produces in the soul, through the declaration of absurd things. For shame seems to be a great and powerful weapon for the avoidance of sin—a shame implanted in men; which I think was placed in us by God for this very purpose, so that such a disposition of the soul might be for us an aversion to worse things. Now, shame and the passion that arises from reverence have a certain kinship and familiarity with one another, through both of which sin is prevented, if one should wish to use such a disposition of the soul for this end. For often, more than fear, reverence has schooled one to the avoidance of base things; but also, the shame that follows the reproaches of a transgression is enough of itself to chasten the one who sins, so that he does not fall into D the like again. And it is, as one might describe the difference between them by a definition, reverence indeed as an intensifiedA shame; and shame, on the contrary, as a relaxed reverence. B And the difference and communion of these passions is also shown by the color in the face. For reverence is indicated by a blush alone, the body sympathizing in a way with the soul according to a certain natural disposition, and the heat around the heart bubbling up to the surface of the countenance. But one who is ashamed at the revelation of his offense becomes livid and reddish, because fear has mixed bile with the blush. Such a passion, then, would be sufficient for those who have previously been caught in some absurdity, so that they may no longer engage in those things, the conviction of which they make for themselves through shame.
If these things are so, and if the Discourse has aimed at the passion as it ought, as a natural disposition born within us for the guarding against sins, it is right to consider it a proper lesson of the Church to act rightly through the confession and enunciation of one's misdeeds. For through this, one is permitted to arm one’s soul with the weapons of shame. For just as if someone, due to immoderate gluttony, has collected within himself certain humors difficult to digest, and then suffers from inflammation, once the body has been cured by surgery and cautery, he has the disease—or rather, the scar of the cautery seen on the body—as a kind of pedagogue for avoiding unbridled living in the future; so too, one who has branded himself through the enunciation of his hidden deeds holds the memory of the passion that shame moved in him as a pedagogue for his future life.
C These, then, are the things which the Church is taught through the reading which has now taken place, of what is written in Ecclesiastes. For it says with a free voice, bringing that matter into public view, and placing it in the sight of all men like a certain inscribed pillar, setting forth the enunciation of the things done by him, which are of such a kind that it would be more glorious to be ignorant of them and to cover them in silence than to speak them. But whether he says this because he had truly done them, or whether he is feigning them for our benefit, so as to carry the discourse through to the goal in an orderly fashion, I cannot say with precision. But nevertheless, he says things which one who keeps his eye on virtue would not willingly embrace.
But whether he pursues and rebukes things that were not done as if they were done out of a certain purpose, so that being experienced in them himself, we might avoid the desire for what is rebuked before we make trial of them; or whether he voluntarily lowered himself to the enjoyment of such things, so that he might even exercise his senses through their opposites, let it be left to the judgment of whoever wishes, so that he may direct his conjecture to whatever he pleases. But if someone should say that he D truly made trial of these things that are pleasant, we suppose as follows. For just as those who dive into the depth of the sea, and investigate in the bottom of the water, if perchance they might find some pearl, or something else that is born in the deep—to whom the affliction of being under the water brings no pleasure, but the hope of gain causes them to immerse themselves in the deep—so if Solomon has been conversant in these things,
A in every way, like one of those who hunt for purple in the sea, he plunged himself into luxury; not that he might be filled with the salt of the sea (and by salt I mean pleasure), but that he might search for what is useful to the mind in such a deep. And that which is found through such things would be useful, in my estimation, either to blunt the impulses of the body, by presenting it with what it desires at its own discretion (for nature always has more vehement impulses toward what is prohibited), or so that the teacher might become worthy of belief in these matters, so that the thing despised by one taught by experience to be vain might no longer be thought desirable by men. For B they say that physicians also best practice their art in that area where they have learned the nature of the infirmity through their own bodies; and they become safer advisors and healers of such things, because they had knowledge through having been healed first, as they were taught beforehand by their own suffering.
Let us see, therefore, what is it that he who heals our life says he has suffered in his own life. “I have,” he says, “magnified my work, I have built houses.” The discourse begins immediately with a reproach. For he does not say “God’s work,” which I am, but “I have magnified my own.” My work is nothing else than that which brings pleasure to the senses. Now this work is indeed one in a general sense, but C in a subtle and minute division, it is necessarily dispersed into many parts for the needs of luxury. For it is absolutely necessary that one who has once entered the depths of this matter should cast his eye in every direction, from whence it might be possible for pleasure to spring forth. For just as water is led from one source in many directions through pipes—and yet it is none the less water, that which is divided from the source, even if it happens to be flowing in a myriad of spouts—so pleasure, being one in nature, flows by moving in other and different ways through the differences of human pursuits, attaching itself to the needs of life.
For example, life makes a dwelling necessary for nature, for the human constitution D is naturally too weak to endure the inequalities of heat and cold. Up to this point, a house has utility for sustaining life; but pleasure compels man to pass beyond the bounds of necessity. For, just as if he were not seeking what is useful for the body, but providing delight and luxuries for his eyes, he is almost pained that he has not made the sky itself his roof, nor is he able to fashion the sun’s rays into the ceiling. Therefore, he extends the size of his buildings on all sides, building the compass of his houses as if it were some other earth for himself. He extends the walls to the greatest height; he varies the inner rooms with decorations, providing a mutual variety in the arrangement of the interior living spaces from one to another. Then the Laconian, the Thessalian, and the Carystian stone is spread out, and the metals of the Nile and Numidia are sought out by iron for facings; and furthermore, the Phrygian stone is taken up in these same pursuits, which, by casting the purple dye upon the whiteness of the marble where it happens to fall, becomes a luxury for eyes that are more insatiable, with a certain manifold...
A distribution of color painted upon the white surface. How much zeal is expended upon these things! How many shapes! How many mechanical devices! Some use water and iron to saw the materials, while others persist day and night with human hands, laboring at the work of carving. Nor do even these things suffice for those who bestow their labor upon a vain world; but even the purity of glass is defiled with dyes, being stained in various ways, so that even from this some additional element might be gathered for the luxury of their aesthetic tastes. How could one describe the elaborate works of the ceilings, on which wood made from cedar is again transformed by the artifice of the craft, so that it is thought to be living trees, putting forth branches, leaves, and fruits in the carvings? I pass over the gold, which is beaten thin into airy membranes and gilded everywhere upon these things, so as to turn the gluttony of the eyes toward itself. And what need one say of the importation of ivory for the superfluous decoration of entrances, or the gold B applied to their carvings, or the silver fastened on with nails, and everything else of this kind? Or the floors of the houses glowing with the varied colors of the stones, so that even the feet of those who walk upon them luxuriate in the splendor of the stones? And what of the excessive, ambitious magnificence in the multitude of such houses, whose construction is not made necessary by the use of life, but by a desire that, progressing through things that are useless, finds in them an unseasonable persistence? For of the houses, some must be prepared for running, others for walking, some for entrance, others for a vestibule, and others are placed above the gates. For they do not think that gates and vestibules and the ample space within the gates are sufficient for display, unless something of this sort immediately confronts those entering, such as, upon seeing it, could at once strike the entrant with amazement. In addition to these, there are baths that provide utility along with magnificence, irrigating with a C flow of fountains as if with whole rivers, and in front of these are gymnasia, constructed with splendor and artful skill for decoration with various marbles, and on all sides around the dwellings are porticoes supported by Numidian, Thessalian, or Aeginetan columns; and the bronze in the statues, which is fashioned into a thousand forms, according to whatever the desire for curiosity pours the material into, as well as the images from the marbles and the inscriptions on the panels, through which they also commit adultery with their eyes—artifice laying bare through imitation things that cannot be seen, and whatever things of this kind exist to be seen, fashioned for astonishment and beauty. How could one treat in speech, item by item, those things in which such effort is expended, which is a reproach and an indictment of negligence regarding the things that come first? For the greater the magnificence in the structure of the buildings, in both quantity and the cost of materials, the more it convicts D the soul of being unadorned. For he who looks toward himself, and truly adorns his own dwelling so as to one day receive God to dwell within, has other materials from which beauty for such
a habitation is gathered. I know of gold that glitters in such works, which is mined from the meanings of the Scripture; I know of silver, the divine oracles purified by fire, whose splendor shines forth, beaming through the truth. If you understand the varied glows of stones—with which the walls of such a temple are adorned, and the flooring of the structure—as the varied dispositions of virtues, you will not miss the beauty that is fitting for the house. Let the floor be spread with self-control, through which the dust of the earthly intellect will not trouble the one dwelling within. Let the hope of heaven brighten the ceiling, toward which one looks with the eye of the soul, seeing not simulacra of beauty formed by chisel and carving, but the archetypal beauty itself, not embellished with any gold or silver, but which is far B more precious than gold and much-valued stone. If it is necessary to describe the ornament from the sides by means of words, let incorruptibility and impassibility inlay the house; thence let justice and the state of being free from anger decorate the dwelling. On another side, let humility and gentleness shine forth, and on yet another, piety toward God; and let the master craftsman, love, fitly join all these things together. And if you desire baths, if you wish, you have also an indoor bath and private fountains through which it is possible to wash away the stains of the soul, which the great David also used, delighting in such a bath at night. As for the columns supporting the porch of the soul, do not look for Phrygian ones or porphyry, but let stability and immobility in every good thing C be far more precious than these material ornaments. This dwelling does not admit any kind of images—whether in paintings or sculptures—which men craft through deception for the imitation of the truth, for it is filled with the statues of the truth itself. If you desire courses and promenades, you have the way of life found in the commandments. For thus Wisdom says, *I walk in the ways of justice, and I move in the midst of the paths of righteousness* [Prov. VIII, 20]. How beautiful it is for the soul to be active and exercised in these things, and, having traversed the place of the commandment with such movement, to return to the same—that is to say, having fulfilled the command for which he strives, again for a second and third time let the correction of character and honesty of life D be adorned. He who exercises his building in this way at the cost of beauty will care little for earthly matter; he will not expend effort in digging for metals, he will not cross the Indian seas to trade for the bones of elephants, nor will he hire the laborious curiosity of craftsmen whose art is merely applied to the material; rather, he possesses within the wealth that supplies the materials for such structures. For those among the sons who were more kindly disposed thought that which was unseemly to be worthy of pity; but to the foolish and unlearned, the spectacle of drunkenness became an occasion for laughter. The confession concerning the planting of vineyards includes a great catalog of sufferings. As for...
A what and of what sort the affections are that are produced by wine, discourse embraces them all with its power. For who among all people is ignorant that wine, when it passes beyond use into intemperance, is a kindling for licentiousness, a source of pleasures, the ruin of youth, the disgrace of old age, the dishonor of women, a medicine for madness, a provision for brawling, a poison for the soul, the destruction of the mind, and an alienation from virtue? From it comes laughter without any occasion, grief without cause, spontaneous tears, boasting that cannot stand, impudence in lying, the desire for things that cannot exist, the hope for things that can by no means happen, overly swollen threats, groundless fear, failure to perceive things that are truly to be feared, rash suspicion, kindness that is by no means consistent with reason, and promises of things that cannot be done; to say nothing of other things: the unbecoming drowsiness, the loose surfeit weighing down the head, the shame arising from excessive repletion, the dissolution of the joints, and the twisting of the neck, which can no longer support itself upon the shoulders, because the moisture from the wine dissolves the ligament of the neck. What nefarious crime did the intercourse with his daughter commit? What harmed the mind of Lot in the things that were happening, so that he both committed the crime and was ignorant of what he had committed? What is it that invented the strange designation of those children, as if in a riddle? How did the mothers of the wicked fruit become the sisters of their own children? How did the children have the same person as both father and grandfather? What is it that confounded nature in a nefarious crime? Was it not wine, extending beyond its bounds, that brought in this tragedy which is hard to believe? Did not drunkenness attach to history such a fable, which in its excess even surpasses true myths? For they gave their own father, he says, wine to drink. And so, his mind having been unsettled B by wine, as if he were deranged by some magic, he left this tragic narrative to the world, since at the time the crime was committed, his senses had been stolen away by drunkenness. Oh, how evilly those women carried the wine with them from the provisions of the Sodomites! Oh, what an evil sign of friendship they poured into their father from an evil mixing bowl! How much better it would have been if that wine also had perished with everything in Sodom, before it could supply such a tragedy! And since such examples are like this, and so many evils arise daily in life from wine, he who shamelessly proclaims his own deeds through confession says that he had done this, not only using the wine that was there, but also providing that there should be an abundance of such a store. C “For I planted,” he says, “for myself vineyards,” of which I would have no need, being myself a fruitful vine—a spiritual vine, flourishing, adorned with leaves, and spreading out, interwoven and entwined with the branches of life and the tendrils of charity with those who are of my own kind; and adorned not with leaves, but with the comeliness of good habits, and nourishing a sweet and mature cluster of virtue. He who translates these things into his own discourse, so that there is not only the use of wine D
A that gladdens the heart, and the cultivation of his own ground—as it is said in the Proverbs—just as the law of such husbandry requires, (as it were, inviting life itself into his calculations, rooting out the bastard shoots of the virtues, watering the soul with instructions, and cutting away with the pruning-knife of critical reason the impulse of thought that rushes toward things superfluous and vain), such a man is to be deemed blessed for his husbandry, as one who presses out his own vine in the cup of wisdom. But he who looks toward the earth and embraces earthly things knows not this mode of planting. For he adds to these things the exquisite and affected beauty of gardens and orchards. B What need is there of many gardens for him who looks toward the one Paradise? And what utility is there for me in a garden that produces only vegetables, which are the food of the infirm? If I were in Paradise, I would not be distracted by the desire for many gardens. If my soul were living in health, such that it could partake of more solid food, I would not be occupied with vegetables, procuring for myself from a garden the food that befits infirmity. But since pleasure has once entered in together with necessity, and desire has passed beyond its proper bounds, after the magnificence displayed in houses and the profligate and reckless expense on ceilings and paneling, then he practices even outdoor pleasures, and uses the nature of the air itself for the satisfying of the desire for luxury. For through husbandry he provides that there should be for him dense C and ever-leafy and budding trees, which serve as a roof for the air, so that even when he is out of doors, he leads a life of luxury as if within a house; and the surface of the earth is clothed with every kind of herb through the skill of gardeners, so that pleasant things from all sides strike the eye, wherever one may turn one's gaze, and one is always surrounded by delights; and at every time of year one sees those things that are beyond the season—grass in winter, and early flowers, and the vine climbing the trees, entwining its own branches with those of another; and the elegant embraces of ivy with the trees; and whatever species of fruits, from those that are of diverse kinds mixed together, force the nature D of things, signifying by both sight and taste that which is of each, so that they appear to be both, which come to be from the compounding of things of diverse nature. All these things, and whatever else art has discovered in plants by forcing nature—things which the necessity of life does not require, but which desire, which cannot be chastened or restrained, does require—these, he who confesses his own life says, have been brought about in the artful cultivation of gardens and paradises. For he who said, "I planted every fruit-bearing tree," indicates by this comprehensive statement that nothing of such things had been omitted. Then, after the outdoor and indoor pleasures, not even water is left out as useless for contributing to pleasures, as it is necessary to luxuriate in all the elements: in the earth through its proper fruits, in the air through the trees, and in the water through the man-made sea. For even the sight of the water is to sweeten the deception of the eyes,
the lake becoming the floor, walled round about by water; so that not only might the swimming bring pleasure to those who are refreshing their bodies, but the water flowing away might make the plantations flourishing everywhere, being diverted for the needs of the things being irrigated. "For I made for myself," he says, "pools of water, to water therefrom the forest producing wood." But to me there was the fountain of Paradise: that is to say, the teaching of the virtues, by which the dryness of the soul was dewed, despising the earthly waters whose enjoyment is temporary, and whose nature is fleeting and passing. Nothing, therefore, would be better than to derive for ourselves a brief A flow from the divine fountain, through which the virtues of the soul arise and are irrigated, so that the grove of good practices may flourish in our souls, through our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power unto the ages of ages. Amen.
HOMILY IV
The place of confession still holds our discourse. For he who narrates his own affairs pursues almost everything through which the vanity of the things of this life is recognized. But now, as if touching upon a greater kind of censure of the things he himself has done, he accuses the vice of pride. For what in those things which are enumerated contributes so much to arrogance, namely, the costly house, and the multitude of vineyards, and the beauty of the gardens and the waters, and the construction of the pools, and the extent of the plantations, as much as that one who is a man imagines himself to be the master of those who are of the same kind as himself? "For I possessed," he says, "servants and handmaids, and house-born slaves became mine." B You see the swelling of arrogance. This voice openly rises up against God. For we have heard from prophecy that all things are subject to the power which is above all things. But he who makes what is possessed by God his own domain, and attributes to his own kind the power to imagine himself master of men and women—what else is this but to exceed nature through pride, viewing himself as something other than those who are subject? "I possessed servants and handmaids." You condemn man to servitude, whose nature is free and its own master, and you pass a law against God, overturning His natural law. For him who was made for this purpose, that he might be lord of the earth, and whom the Creator appointed to rule, him you subject to the yoke of servitude, as if resisting and fighting against the divine command. Have you forgotten what the limits of your power are? C Namely, that your authority is defined only thus far, that you might rule over the brute animals? For "let them have dominion," He says, "over the birds and the fish and the four-footed animals." How, having passed over the service which is subject to your hand, do you exalt yourself against free nature itself, counting those of the same kind among the four-footed animals or even those without feet? "You have subjected all things under man," the Word cries out through the prophecy, and it brings under number those things subject to reason—"cattle and oxen and sheep." D
A Have humans been born to you from the herds? Have the oxen begotten human offspring for you? For the servitude of humans is one thing, and the irrational animals are another. For He makes grass grow for the beasts, and green herbs for the servitude of humans. But you, having divided nature into servitude and lordship, have made it both to serve itself and to lord over itself. "I acquired male and female servants." By what price, tell me, I pray, did you buy them? What have you found among existing things that is equivalent in value to this nature? For how many coins have you appraised reason? By how many obols have you counterbalanced the image of God? For how many staters have you sold off the nature fashioned by God? God said, "Let us make man according to our image and likeness." Tell me, who is the one selling, who is the one buying, him who exists according to the likeness of God, who rules over all the earth, and who has been granted by God the authority over all things that are upon the earth? It belongs to God alone to be able to do this—or rather, I would almost say, not even to God Himself, for "His gifts," he says, "are without repentance." B Therefore, God would not reduce to slavery a nature which He even recalled into freedom when we had freely made ourselves slaves to sin. If, then, God does not enslave a free being, who is he who prefers his own authority to that of God? And how shall he who rules over all the earth and all things upon the earth be sold? For it is absolutely necessary that the possessions of the one being sold be sold along with him. At what price shall we value the things beneath the whole earth? But if these are beyond price, of what value is he who is above these things, tell me? Even if you say the whole world, not even so have you found a price according to its worth. For he who knows human nature accurately has not even called the whole world a sufficient price to be given in exchange for the soul of man. C When man, therefore, is for sale, nothing else is led to the marketplace than the lord of the earth. Therefore, along with him, the existing creation must necessarily be proclaimed for sale as well. And this is earth and sea and islands, and all that is in them. What, then, will the buyer pay? What will the seller receive, such a great possession following the transaction? But a small scroll and a written contract and a counting of obols have deceived you into thinking you are the master of the image of God. O what folly! But if the contract were to perish, if the letters were eaten away by moths, or if a drop of water falling somewhere from above were to wipe them away, where would your proofs of lordship be? Where would your instruments of mastery be? D For I see nothing added to your possession from the one under your hand, beyond the name itself. For what has your authority added to his nature? Neither time, nor precedence. Your birth is from the same, your life is lived in the same fashion, and the affections of soul and body prevail equally in you who are the master and in him who is subjected to your lordship—sorrows and cheerfulness, delights and distresses, griefs and pleasures,
A rage and fear, sickness and death. Is there in these any difference between servant and master? Do they not both draw the same air through their breath? Do they not gaze upon the sun in the same way? Do they not preserve their nature by the same addition of nourishment? Is the construction of their viscera not the same? Are not both one dust after death? Is there not one judgment? Is the kingdom not common, and the Gehenna common? You who are equal in all things, in what, I pray, have you been superior, that, being a man, you consider yourself the master of a man? "And I possessed," he says, "slaves and slave-girls," as if they were some herds of goats or pigs. For when he had said, "I possessed slaves and slave-girls," he added the prosperity which had previously been his in cattle and sheep. "And much," he says, "was my possession of oxen and sheep," inasmuch as these and those were subject to him in the same order of power.
Then, after these things, his declaration proceeds to greater sins, and he proclaims that there is in him the root of all evils, namely, avarice. For thus he speaks in the context of his discourse: "I gathered for myself both silver and gold." For what harm did the gold do when it was mixed with the earth and poured out in those places in which it had been placed by the Creator from the beginning? What additional utility did the Maker of all things cause it to afford you beyond the fruits of the earth? Did He grant you only the fruits of trees and seeds for nourishment? Why do you overstep the boundaries of the given power? Either show that these things also were granted to you by the Creator so that you might mine and dig them up and melt the underlying material with fire and gather what you did not scatter; or—if anyone might consider these things perhaps as having no affinity with crime—is it right for you to gather money from the metals of the earth in this way? But since the mention of the resources of kings and regions is added to the speech, the mind of one gathering cannot be immune from blame. For as it is permitted for royal power to gather a quantity of money from regions—namely, to impose taxes, to exact tithes, to collect money, to constrain those who are subject to its rule—so he says that he has gathered gold and silver. But whether in this way or otherwise he says he has gathered them, I would gladly know what benefit will return to him who gathers this material. Let us imagine that it does not come to those who are greedy for money by the mina or drachma or talent, but that all things suddenly become gold for them; let us suppose the earth, the sand, the mountains, the fields, the woodlands—let us suppose all things have suddenly been changed into this material—what will be added to the blessedness of life by these things? If he sees in the universe that which he now sees in a small part, what will come of that great abundance for the goods of the soul, or for those things for which we are led to have zeal on account of the body? Is there any hope from this that he who lives having such a great force of gold will become wise, sharp-witted, contemplative, learned, dear to God, temperate, pure, impassible, and exempt and in no way capable of anything that draws toward vice? Or is this indeed not so, but perhaps the body might be able, while extending life into many hundreds of years, to be free of old age, free of disease, free of harm, and to have all those things which men more dearly hold in life by study and desire? But no one is so foolish, nor D
A so ignorant of our common nature, as to think that these things would accrue to men if an abundant store of money were freely poured out to all. For even now one may see many of those who possess such wealth beyond others living in a wretched state of body, for whom, if there were not those at hand to care for them, they could not live without their help. If, therefore, the wealth of gold that we proposed in our hypothesis adds no profit or advantage either to body or soul, it is even more clearly proven that a small amount of it is useless to those who possess it. For what can come from this material to him who has it, since it is neither effective in taste, nor smell, nor hearing, and in regard to touch it relates in the same way to everything that resists it? For let no one attribute to gold the food or clothing obtained through exchange. For one who has exchanged bread or a garment for gold to save his life has traded the useful for the useless, and he lives, having made food his sustenance, not gold. But he who gathers this material for himself through such exchanges—to what end does he use these riches, what counsel is gained from them, what instruction in practical matters, what prediction of the future? Who has had a consolation for the pains of the body through it? He counted it, stowed it away, marked it with a seal, refused it when asked, and when he was not believed, even perjured himself. This is the blessed state, this is the end of the effort, this the enjoyment, this the happiness—to gather material for the sake of perjury.
But, he says, the appearance of gold is of a beautiful color. Is it more beautiful than fire? Is it more fair than the stars? Is it more radiant than the rays of the sun? Who prevents you from enjoying these, so that you find it necessary to provide pleasure for your eyes through the color of gold? B But, he says, fire is extinguished, and the sun sets, and the grace of its brilliance does not last. But tell me, I pray you, in the time of darkness how does gold differ from lead? But, he says, one cannot make necklaces, girdles, torques, crowns, and such like from fire or stars; but gold produces these things, and whatever else is prepared for ornamentation. C He has brought the defense of material things to the very height of vanity. For I would say this very thing to them: What is the meaning and the purpose of him who takes care to make his hair shine with gold, or who hangs ornaments from his ears, or who surrounds his neck with luxurious collars, or who shows himself off wearing gold on some other part of his body? Wherever it is placed on the body, the person himself is not in the least transformed by the splendor of the gold. For he who looks at the one wearing gold sees the gold indeed—just as if it were displayed for sale—but he sees the wearer just as his nature is. Even if the gold is beautifully wrought and engraved, and even if it contains within itself green gems or those D glowing like fire, nature has received no more sense of the things that are added; but whether the sight is laboring under some disease, or something is lacking that is according to nature, as if perhaps the eye had flowed out, or the cheek had been...
A uglily hollowed out by a scar, the ugliness remains in what is visible, hidden by no sheen of gold; and should he happen to be suffering pain in his body, the material of gold brings no consolation to the sufferer.
What is it, then, that brings anything useful to those who are diligent for it, when it provides neither beauty, nor good bodily condition, nor any relief for pains? And what is the disposition of those who have their hearts melted away for this material, when they happen to be in the awareness of such a possession, and exalt themselves as having something more? If someone were to ask them if they would consent to have their nature exchanged for that to which, in such a great disposition on their part, they have given honor, and to become that which they so greatly desire, so that their nature might pass from being human into gold, and they would no longer be shown as rational and intellectual beings, endowed with senses for life, but pale, heavy, and voiceless, inanimate and insensate—as is the nature of gold—I do not think they would choose these things, not even those who are wasted away with a vehement desire for gold.
If, then, it is already a curse in the minds of those who think rightly, to become possessed of the properties of inanimate matter, what sort of senseless madness is it to acquire these things, the end of which is vanity, to the point that those who are crazed by money dare to commit murders and practice robbery for their sake? And not that alone, but also the wicked invention of usury, which if someone were to call it another form of robbery and murder, he would not be far from the truth. For what difference does it make whether one should have another's goods secretly by breaking through walls after the manner of a robber, and by the murder of a passerby make oneself the master of what he had, or by the necessity of usury acquire what does not belong to you? B O wretched name! Usury becomes a name for robbery. O bitter marriages! O wicked union, which nature has not known, but the disease of the avaricious has devised among inanimate things! O heavy and tiresome concepts, from which a fetus of this kind (namely, usury) is born!
Only in those things which exist is animate life distinguished by the difference of masculine and feminine sex. To these, God the Creator said, “Increase and multiply,” 68 so that through generation from one another, that which is living might be increased and multiplied. But the fetus of gold, namely usury, consists of what marriage? From what conception is it brought to fulfillment? But I have learned the labor of such a birth from the Prophet: “Behold, he has travailed with injustice, he has conceived labor, and brought forth iniquity.” 69 This is that very offspring which avarice has travailed with, iniquity brings forth, and inhumanity acts as midwife. For he who always hides his wealth, and affirms with an oath that he has nothing, when he sees someone constrained by necessity, then his purse is seen to be pregnant; then he brings forth the wicked fetus with the desire for gain, and shows the hope of a loan to the wretched man, casting the material of the loan upon the misfortune, just as one who extinguishes a flame with oil. For he has not cured the loss with the loan, but has extended it; and just as in droughts the fields grow thorns of their own accord, so also in the calamities of those who are oppressed, the usuries of the greedy grow wild. C
B Then he extends his hand with money, just as a reed extends the hook within the bait. The wretched man, gaping after the present supply, even if he had anything hidden away in store, disgorges it along with the attraction of the hook. Such are the benefits of usury. If anyone forcibly takes away someone’s traveling money, or steals it by stealth, he is called a violent man and a thief and such like; but the one who makes his injustice and bitterness a matter of record, and who strengthens his lawlessness with contracts, is called a philanthropist, a benefactor, a savior, and is addressed by all the honorable titles. And while gain made by theft is called larceny, the one who strips a Christian naked through such necessity glosses over his bitterness with the name of philanthropy; for this is how they name the losses of the wretched. "I gathered for myself," he says, "also silver and also gold." C But for this reason, the wise man, instructing life, numbered these things also in the list of those things to be confessed, so that men, having learned from one who knew by experience that this is one of those things condemned as absurd and foreign, might guard against the onset of evil before experiencing it, just as those who have safely traversed places infested by robbers and wild beasts can do so because others who preceded them have encountered the danger in them. Well does the divine Apostle, well, I say, define the vice of avarice, declaring it to be the root of all evils. D For just as when a corrupt and putrid humor flows into some part, and an inflammation arises in the spot, it is absolutely necessary for that fluid which has caused the swelling to break out into some abscess and corruption when the operation has reached the surface; so for those to whom the disease of avarice has flowed, the vice inclines in large part toward intemperance. Therefore, he adds to the abundance of gold and silver the indecency which by consequence follows the disease that has taken hold first. "For I made," he says, "singers and singing women," the luxuries of banquets, cupbearers and female cupbearers. The mention of the names was sufficient to brand the vice which the disease regarding money had paved the way for. O the strange nature of this artifice! How it suddenly lets loose a stream of pleasures, like some torrents flooding souls through both hearing and sight, so that the evil may be both seen and heard! The song corrupts the hearing, the sight overcomes the eye. Thence the feminine tone, through the lax harmony of the songs, introduces the passion into the heart. Through this, the sight, as if it were a military engine toward the eyes, falling upon the soul that had been broken beforehand by the songs, corrupts it. And wine becomes the general of this battle array, like some wicked archer shooting down the man with double arrows, aiming the darts at both the hearing and the sight; for the song becomes an arrow for the hearing, and that which is seen for the sight. For the name of the cupbearers is not an idle one, but the designation always comes from the work. When
wine is poured out for the guests in abundance and lavishly, and youth, adorned for beauty, performs this ministry—whether boys effeminated by their finery, or the female sex itself moving about in the banquet, and by gentle invitations stirring up an unseemly flame—what result is it natural to expect from such pursuits? For he who considers the scope of each of the things that happen, passing by the use of the things out of mere curiosity—as to how one might decorate those who are performing music, or with what apparel one will adorn the cupbearers—such things should rather be kept silent, and one should not proceed further in speech by describing them, lest, by this rebuke, memory should reopen the wounds in those who are a little more prone to such passions. On account of these things there is gold, and for these there is silver, so that he may prepare such baits of luxury.
B For this reason, the passion that arises from pleasure is called a serpent by Scripture, whose nature is such that, if its head should slip into the joints of a wall, its whole body behind it enters in as well. This is what I mean: Nature makes a dwelling necessary for human beings, but through this use, pleasure, slipping into the joints of the soul, turns the use into a certain immoderate and luxurious magnificence of ornaments, and transfers the pursuit to certain vineyards, pools, gardens, and the decorations of gardens. Pleasure creeps in like a serpent, but afterward it rises up into pride, and coils itself in arrogance and haughtiness, subjecting to itself authority over those of its own kind. After these things, it drags behind it a trail of love of money, which is necessarily followed by intemperance, which is the final and tail-like part of the beastliness that comes from pleasure. But just as it is impossible for a serpent to be pulled from the extremity of its spine—that is, from its tail—since its scales naturally resist those who pull it the opposite way, so it is not possible to begin from the last things to banish the creeping thing of pleasure from the soul, unless one closes off the first entry to the evil.
Wherefore the teacher of virtue commands us to watch its head, calling the beginning of vice its head; for if this is not admitted, what remains is void and ineffective. For he who is altogether hostile and antagonistic in mind toward pleasure will not be subjected to the individual assaults of vice; but he who has admitted the beginning of vice has admitted the whole beast into himself at once. Therefore, when he who was exposing such vices in public had followed out everything, he brings the discourse to a summary. For having said from the beginning, "I have magnified my work," he now adds the detailed exposition of what had happened: "I was magnified," he says, showing that the knowledge of the contrary things did not come to him through some small matters, but in such a way that his experience proceeded to the highest magnitude, so that no memory of similar things in those who were before him is equal to it. For he says, "I was magnified," and added, "Beside"
all who were before me in Jerusalem," and he now reveals the reason why, having been previously instructed in all wisdom, he approached the trial of such things, and what was his design and scope. "For my wisdom," he says, "stood by me." By what is said, he signifies that through wisdom I have investigated every pleasurable concept, and my mind is situated at the summit of those things found within them. And my sight cooperated with my desire, and my faculty of choice was filled with whatever was desirable through the pleasure of the sights; so that nothing was left out of those things devised for enjoyment, but the participation in those things according to pleasure became my portion of possession; which seems to me to signify nothing else than that I contained within myself every pleasurable concept, as if harvesting happiness from created things like some kind of property.
B "I did not withhold my heart from any joy, and my heart rejoiced in all my labor, and this was my portion of all my labor"—calling the possession a portion. Since, therefore, he has reviewed the delights that are in part, running through them from beginning to end, and embracing all things in his discourse—by which pleasures are stirred up in those who enjoy them: the beauty of buildings, vineyards, gardens, pools, orchards, authority over those of the same race, the abundance of riches, the preparation for merriment in banquets—everything, as he names it, the delights in which his wisdom was occupied, investigating such things and bringing them to conception, of which he says he has partaken through every sense, both with the eyes finding things that make for pleasure, and the soul possessing everything according to desire without hindrance—then he interprets the first phrase which he had made at the beginning of the discourse, declaring all things to be vanity. For he says that, looking to these things, he pronounced regarding human life that all things are vanity, both those which the sense sees and those which are pursued by men for joy.
C "I looked," he says, "on all my works that my hands wrought, and on all my labor in which I labored to do, and behold, all is vanity and choice of spirit, and there is no profit under the sun." For the power and energy of all the senses has as its limit the life under the sun; but the sensitive nature cannot pass beyond, nor comprehend in thought the goods that are above. Having, therefore, contemplated all these things and things of this kind, he instructs D the life, that one should not be wonder-struck at anything that is here—wealth, ambition, authority over subjects, merriments and luxuries and banquets, and if anything else is thought to be precious—but rather to see that the one end of all these things is vanity, of which no remainder is found hereafter. For just as those who write upon water accomplish the writing with their hand, tracing the types of the characters in the liquid; but of the characters nothing