Homilies on Second Corinthians 7

But if the ministry of death, in letters engraved on stones, came with glory, so that the sons of Israel could not steadfastly behold the face of Moses, because of the glory of his countenance, a glory that was being done away;

how shall not the ministry of the Spirit rather be in glory?

He said that the tablets of Moses were of stone, inasmuch as they bore letters, and that these — the hearts of the apostles — were of flesh, and were inscribed by the Spirit;

and that the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life;

it remained, then, for this comparison to add yet another point, no small one — that concerning the glory of Moses;

which here no one has seen under the New Covenant with the eyes of the body.

For this reason too it seemed to be a great thing, since the glory was perceptible to the senses;

for it was seen with the eyes of the body, even though it was unapproachable.

For the apprehension of such surpassing greatness is not clear to those who are weaker;

but that glory rather lifted them up, and turned them toward itself.

Since, then, he had fallen into this comparison, and is eager to show the superiority — a thing exceedingly difficult on account of the dullness of his hearers;

see what he does, and how he manages it, first introducing the difference by way of reasonings, and weaving them together from what was said before.

For if that was the ministry of death, but this the ministry of life, it is beyond dispute that this glory too is greater than that, he says.

For since he could not display it to the bodily eyes, by the syllogism he set forth its excellence, saying:

But if the ministry of death came with glory, how shall not the ministry of the Spirit rather be in glory? And by the ministry of death he means the Law.

And observe how, even in the comparison, he uses much caution, so as to give the heretics no handle.

For he did not say, That which produces death, but, The ministry of death;

for it ministers unto death, it did not beget death.

For that which produced death was sin;

but this brought on the punishment, and was indicative of sin, not productive of it;

for it revealed the evil more clearly and punished it, it did not thrust men into the evil;

and it ministered, not toward the coming into being of sin or death, but toward the sinner's paying the penalty;

so that in this way it was even destructive of sin.

For he who shows it to be so fearful, it is plain, also makes it a thing to be shunned.

Just as, then, he who wields the sword and cuts off the condemned man ministers to the judge who gives sentence, and it is not he himself who slays, although it is he who cuts off, nor yet is it he who pronounces sentence and condemns, but the wickedness of the one being punished;

so also here it is not itself that slays, but sin;

this it was that both slew and condemned;

but this — while punishing — cut away sin's strength, restraining it by the fear of punishment.

But he was not content with this alone to establish the superiority, but adds yet another point, saying:

'Engraved in letters upon stones.'

See how once again he cuts away the Jewish arrogance.

For the Law was nothing other than letters;

there was no help leaping forth from those letters and breathing power into

those who strove, as happens in baptism; rather they were pillars and inscriptions that brought death upon those who transgressed the letters.

Do you see how, while correcting the Jewish contentiousness, he also, by the very names, pulls down its dignity—calling it 'stone,' and 'letters,' and 'a ministration of death,' and adding that it was 'engraved'? For by this he indicates nothing else than that the Law was fixed in one place, and was not, like the Spirit, present everywhere, breathing great strength into all;

or else that the letters breathe forth much threatening—a threatening that cannot even be blotted out, but abides perpetually, seeing that it was carved upon stones.

Then again, even while he seems to be praising the old things, he once more mingles in an accusation of the Jews.

For after saying, 'Engraved in letters upon stones, was made in glory,' he went on, 'So that the sons of Israel could not steadfastly behold the face of Moses';

which was a mark of their great weakness and grovelling lowliness.

And again, it was not, 'Because of the glory of the tablets,'

but, 'Because of the glory of his face, which was passing away,' he says.

For he shows that it was the bearer who was glorified, not those tablets.

For he did not say, 'Because they could not steadfastly behold the tablets,' but, 'The face of Moses';

and again, not, 'Because of the glory of the tablets,' but, 'Because of the glory of his face.'

Then, since he had exalted it, see how he pulls it down again, saying, 'That which was passing away.'

Yet this is not a matter of accusation, but of diminishment;

for he did not say, 'That which was corrupted,' 'the wicked,' but, 'That which was ceasing,' and coming to its end.

'How shall not rather the ministration of the Spirit be in glory?' For henceforth, being confident, he takes up the things of the New Covenant as beyond dispute.

He set stone over against heart, and letter over against spirit.

Then, having shown the things belonging to both, he no longer sets down the things of both;

but having set down that which comes from the letter—death and condemnation—he no longer sets down that which comes from the Spirit—life and righteousness—but the Spirit itself;

which made the argument the greater.

For the New Covenant not only gave life, but also supplied the Spirit that bestows life;

which was far greater than life;

wherefore he said, 'The ministration of the Spirit.'

Then he turns the same point round again, saying, 'For if the ministration of condemnation be glory.'

And he interprets more clearly what is meant by, 'The letter kills,' saying that which we said before, namely, that the Law was indicative of sin, not productive of it.

'Much more does the ministration of righteousness abound in glory.'

For those tablets pointed out sinners and punished them;

but this ministration not only did not punish sinners, but even made them righteous;

for this was what baptism freely bestowed.

'For even that which was made glorious has not been made glorious in this respect, by reason of the glory that surpasses.'

In what went before, then, he showed that this too is in glory, and not simply in glory, but even abounds;

for he did not say, 'How shall not rather the ministration of the Spirit be in glory,' but, 'It abounds in glory,' having his proof from the reasonings already stated.

Here he shows also how great the superiority is, saying that, 'If I compare this with that, the glory of the Old is no glory at all';

not establishing absolutely that there is no glory, but by the argument of comparison;

wherefore he also added, 'In this respect';

that is, according to the argument of comparison.

Yet this does not disparage the Old, but rather greatly commends it;

for comparisons are wont to be made between things of the same kind.

Then he sets in motion yet another reasoning that demonstrates the superiority from another quarter also.

What kind is this? The one drawn from time, saying:

'For if that which was passing away was through glory, much more that which remains is in glory.'

For the one ceased, but the other remains for ever.

'Having therefore such a hope, we use great boldness of speech.'

For since the hearer, having heard such great and lofty things concerning the New Covenant, was seeking to see this glory also with his own eyes, see where he sends him hurling off—toward the age to come.

Wherefore he also brought hope into the midst, saying, 'Having therefore such a hope.'

'Such'? Of what sort? That we have been counted worthy of greater things than Moses—not we the apostles only, but also all who...

Toward whom, tell me? Toward God, or toward the disciples? 'Toward you who are being taught,' he says;

that is, 'With freedom we speak out everywhere, drawing back in nothing, concealing nothing, suspecting nothing, but speaking plainly';

and we do not fear lest we wound your eyes, as Moses did those of the Jews.

For that he was hinting at this, hear what follows;

or rather, it is first necessary to relate the history.

For he himself continually turns it over.

What then is the history? When Moses came down the second time, having received the tablets, a certain glory darting forth from his face shone so greatly that the Jews could not draw near to him and converse with him, until he put a veil upon his face.

And it is written thus in Exodus:

'When Moses came down from the mountain, the two tablets were in his hands.'

'And Moses knew not that the appearance of the skin of his face was made glorious;'

'and they were afraid to come near him.'

'And Moses called them, and spoke to them.'

'And when Moses ceased speaking to them, he put a veil upon his face.'

'But whenever he went in before the Lord to speak, he took away the veil until he came out.'

Having therefore reminded them of this history, he says:

'And not as Moses, who used to put a veil upon his own face, so that the sons of Israel could not steadfastly look to the end of that which was passing away.'

But what he means is this:

There is no need for us to be veiled, as Moses was;

for you are able to behold this glory which we bear about us, though it is far greater and more radiant than that.

Do you see the advance? For he who in the former Epistle said, 'I gave you milk to drink, not meat,' here says, 'We use great boldness of speech';

and he brings Moses into the midst, advancing his argument by way of comparison, and by this leading the hearer upward.

And for the present he sets them above the Jews, saying that we have no need of a veil, as that man had when speaking to those under his rule;

but what follows he traces up even to the very dignity of the lawgiver himself, or rather to something far greater.

But for the present let us hear what comes next:

'But their minds were hardened.'

'For until this very day the same veil remains in the reading of the Old Testament, unlifted, because it is done away in Christ.'

See what he establishes by these words.

For that which happened once in the case of Moses at that time, this comes to pass continually in the case of the Law.

Therefore what is said is no reproach against the Law, just as neither was it against Moses when he was then veiled, but against the graceless Jews;

for that man had his own proper glory, but these could not behold it.

'Why then are you perplexed,' he says, 'if they cannot behold this glory, the glory of grace, seeing that they did not even see the lesser glory, that of Moses, nor were they able to gaze steadfastly upon his face? And why are you troubled if the Jews do not believe in Christ, seeing that they do not even believe in the Law? For it was on this very account that they remained ignorant of grace as well.'

since they did not even see the Old Covenant, nor the glory that was in it;

for the glory of the Law is to turn men to Christ.

Do you see how from this quarter also he pulls down the pride of the Jews? For from the very things in which they thought they had the advantage—that the face of Moses flashed with light—from these he shows their grossness and grovelling earthliness.

Let them not therefore pride themselves on this;

for what is this to the Jews who had no benefit of it? Wherefore also he continually turns it about, now saying that 'the same veil remains in the reading of the Old Testament, unlifted, because it is done away in Christ';

and now that 'Until this day, whenever Moses is read, the same veil lies upon their heart,' showing it to lie both upon the reading and upon their heart;

and higher up, 'So that the sons of Israel could not steadfastly behold the face of Moses because of the glory of his countenance, which was being done away';

than which what could be more contemptible? When, even of a glory that was passing away—or rather of one that, by comparison, did not even exist—they could not become beholders, but it was veiled from them, so that they should not gaze upon the end of that which was being done away, that is, of the Law, and see what end it had.

'But their minds were hardened.'

'And what has this to do with the veil at that time?' one may ask. Because it foreshadowed the things to come.

For not only did they fail to see then, but neither do they now behold the Law.

for the hardening belongs to a mind that is insensible and graceless.

So that it is we who both know the Law;

but from them not only is grace hidden, but this also is overshadowed.

'For until this very day,' he says, 'the same veil remains in the reading of the Old Testament, unlifted, because it is done away in Christ.'

This very thing they cannot discern—that it has ceased—because they do not believe in Christ.

For if it is through Christ that it has ceased, as indeed it has ceased, and the Law itself said this beforehand, how shall those who do not receive Christ, who abolished the Law, be able to see that the Law has been done away? And since they cannot discern this, it is plain that they are ignorant of the very force of that Law which says these things, and of its whole glory.

'And where did he say this,' one asks, 'that it is done away in Christ?' He not only said it, but also showed it by the deeds themselves;

and first, by confining all the sacrifices and the whole ceremonial service to one place, the temple, and afterward destroying it as well.

For if He had not willed that these things and the whole Law concerning them should cease, He would have done one of two things: either He would not have destroyed the temple, or, having destroyed it, He would not have forbidden sacrificing elsewhere.

But as it is, He has rendered the whole inhabited world, and even Jerusalem itself, inaccessible to such sacred rites;

having allotted and assigned to them the temple alone, then afterward destroying this very temple, He showed even to the end, through the deeds themselves, that the things of the Law have ceased through Christ;

for it was Christ who destroyed the temple.

But if you wish to see also from the words themselves how it is done away through Christ, hear the lawgiver himself speaking thus:

'The Lord will raise up for you a Prophet from among your brethren, like me;

him you shall hear in all things, whatsoever he shall enjoin upon you.'

'And it shall come to pass that every soul which will not hear that Prophet shall be utterly destroyed.'

Do you see how the Law showed that it ceases in Christ? For this Prophet, that is, Christ according to the flesh, whom Moses commanded them to hear, put an end both to the Sabbath and to circumcision and to all the rest.

And David too, making this very thing plain, said concerning Christ:

'You are a priest forever, after the order of Melchizedek,' not after the order of Aaron.

Wherefore also Paul, plainly interpreting it, says that 'When the priesthood is changed, of necessity there takes place a change of the Law also.'

And elsewhere again he says:

'Sacrifice and offering You did not desire; whole burnt offerings and offerings for sin You took no pleasure in';

and it would be possible to bring forward from the Old Testament many other testimonies far more numerous than these, showing how the Law is done away through Christ.

So that when you depart from the Law, then you will see the Law aright;

but as long as you hold fast to it and do not believe in Christ, you do not know even the Law itself.

Wherefore he also added, establishing this very point more clearly, 'But until this day, whenever Moses is read, a veil lies upon their heart.'

For since he had said that in the reading of the Old Testament the veil remains,

in order that no one should suppose that what was said belonged to any obscurity of the Law, he had both shown this by other means before (for by saying, 'Their minds were hardened,' he shows that the fault is theirs), and here again in this very passage.

For he did not say, 'In the letters remains the veil,' but 'In the reading';

and the reading is an activity of those who read;

and again, 'Whenever Moses is read.'

And he made it plainer still by the phrase that follows, saying openly, 'A veil lies upon their heart.'

Since even in the case of the face of Moses, it lay there not for Moses' sake, but on account of their grossness and carnal mind.

Having then sufficiently accused them, he shows also the manner of their amendment.

And what is this? 'But whenever it shall turn to the Lord'—which is to depart from the Law—'the veil is taken away.'

Do you see that that veil was not a veil upon the face of Moses, but upon the sight of the Jews? For it was not that

the glory of Moses might be hidden—it was not for this that this came to pass—but that those men might not see;

so that this was a defect belonging to them.

For it did not make him ignorant of anything, but them.

And he did not indeed say, 'Whenever it shall abandon the Law,' but he hinted at this.

For 'whenever it shall turn to the Lord, the veil is taken away.'

He kept to the narrative right to the end.

For indeed when Moses discoursed with the Jews, he covered his face;

but when he turned toward God, it was unveiled.

And this was a type of that which was to be: that whenever we turn to the Lord, then we shall behold the glory of the Law, and the face of the lawgiver unveiled;

or rather, not this only, but then we shall also be in the rank of Moses.

Do you see how he calls the Jew to the faith, showing that, upon coming to grace, he is able not only to behold Moses, but even to become in the very rank of the lawgiver? For 'not only,' he says, 'will you see the glory which then you did not see, but you yourself will be in the same glory';

or rather, in a far greater glory, and one so great that that former glory does not even appear as glory when compared with this.

How, and in what manner? Because, having turned to the Lord and come to be in grace, you will enjoy that glory, compared with which the glory of Moses is so far inferior as not even to be glory.

Yet nevertheless, even if it were something small and far inferior to that other glory, you, being a Jew, would not even be deemed worthy of this one; for the Jews of that day did not behold it, nor do they now.

But if you become a believer, you shall be counted worthy to behold even that far greater glory.

And when he was discoursing with the faithful, he said that what had been glorified had not been glorified;

but here he does not speak thus; rather, how does he speak? 'When one turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away,' leading him upward little by little, first setting him in the rank of Moses, and only then making him a partaker of the greater things.

For when you see Moses in glory, then at last you also will turn to God and will enjoy this greater glory.

Observe then from the very beginning how many things he has set down that make the difference, and that demonstrate the superiority of the New over the Old, not any conflict nor any opposition.

That one, he says, was letter, and stone, and a ministration of death, and it is being done away with;

and yet not even of this glory were the Jews deemed worthy;

this one is a tablet of flesh, and is Spirit and righteousness, and it abides;

and we are all counted worthy of it, not one man only, as Moses then was of the lesser glory.

'For we all,' he says, 'with unveiled face beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord'—not that of Moses.

But since some say that the phrase, 'Whensoever one turns to the Lord,' was spoken concerning the Son, thereby setting themselves against what is most firmly agreed upon, let us examine the matter more precisely, first laying down that from which they think to establish their view.

And what is this? Just as, he says, Scripture says 'God is Spirit,' so also here, 'The Lord is the Spirit.'

But he did not say, 'The Lord is a Spirit,' but rather, 'The Lord is the Spirit.'

And there is a great difference between this construction and that.

For whenever he wishes to speak in the manner you allege, he does not add the article to the predicate.

But let us look in another way at all that he discoursed above, to see concerning whom he has spoken;

for instance, when he said, 'The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life;'

and again, 'Written not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God;'

is it then concerning the Son, or concerning the Spirit? It is quite plain that it is concerning the Spirit;

for it was to this that he was summoning them away from the letter.

For lest anyone, hearing 'Spirit,' and then reasoning that if Moses turned to the Lord, but he himself only to the Spirit, should suppose himself to have something less, correcting such a suspicion, he says, 'Now the Lord is the Spirit.'

'And this One is Lord,' he says.

And that you may learn that the discourse is concerning the Paraclete, he added:

'Now where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.'

For surely you would not say that he means this: 'Where the Lord of the Lord is.'

And he spoke of 'liberty' in contrast to the former bondage.

Then, lest you should think that he is speaking of a future time, he says:

'But we all, with unveiled face beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord'—

not that glory which was being abolished, but the one which abides;

'are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, even as from the Lord, the Spirit.'

Again he places the Spirit in the rank of God, and raises them up into the rank of the apostles. For he had said before, 'You are an epistle of Christ;'

and here, 'But we all, with unveiled face.'

And yet they themselves came bringing the law according to Moses.

But just as we, he says, had no need of a veil, so neither do you who have received it.

And yet this glory is far greater, for it is not the glory of our face, but of the Spirit;

but nevertheless you are able, like us, to gaze steadfastly upon it.

For those men could not even by means of a mediator, but you can attain to the greater glory even without a mediator;

those men had not the strength for that of Moses, but you have it even for that of the Spirit;

and he would not, if the Spirit were of an inferior nature, have set these things down as greater than those.

But what does it mean, 'Beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, we are transformed into the same image'? This was shown more clearly when the gifts of the miracles were operating;

yet even now it is not difficult to discern for one who has believing eyes.

For the moment we are baptized, the soul shines brighter than the sun, being cleansed by the Spirit;

and not only do we behold the glory of God, but from thence also we receive a certain radiance.

Just as if pure silver, lying exposed to the rays, should itself also send forth rays, not from its own nature only, but also from the brightness of the sun;

so too the soul, when cleansed and made brighter than silver, receives a ray from the glory of the Spirit, and reflects it back again.

Wherefore he also says, 'Beholding as in a mirror, we are transformed into the same image, from glory'—that of the Spirit—'to glory'—our own, that which is engendered in us, and such as is fitting to come 'from the Lord, the Spirit.'

See how here also he calls the Spirit 'Lord.'

And elsewhere too his lordship may be seen;

for, 'As they were ministering to the Lord and fasting,' it says, 'the Spirit said,

"Separate to Me Paul and Barnabas."'

For it was on this account that it said, 'As they were ministering to the Lord,'—'Separate to Me,'—in order to show the equality of honor.

And again Christ says, 'The servant does not know what his lord does;'

but the Spirit, as a man knows the things of himself, so knows the things of God, not being taught them.

And its working according as it wills demonstrates its authority and its lordship.

This it is that transforms; this it is that does not permit us to be conformed to this age; this it is that is the Fashioner of such a creation.

For just as he says, 'Created in Christ Jesus,'

so he says, 'Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within my inward parts.'

Would you have me show you this more palpably from the apostles as well? Consider Paul, whose garments wrought works of power; Peter, whose very shadows had efficacy.

For unless they bore the image of the King, and their gleamings were unapproachable, their garments and their shadows would not have wrought so much.

For a king's garments are terrible even to robbers.

Would you see this glory shining forth even through the body? 'Fixing their eyes,' it says, 'on the face of Stephen, they saw it as the face of an angel.'

But this was nothing compared to the glory flashing within.

For what Moses had upon his face, this these men carried about upon their soul—nay rather, far more.

For that of Moses was more perceptible to the senses, but this was incorporeal.

And just as fiery bodies, streaming off from bright bodies onto what is near, impart to those also of their own radiance;

so indeed it comes to pass also in the case of the faithful.

Wherefore those who experience this are delivered from the earth, and dream of the things in the heavens.

For it is good here to groan bitterly, that although we enjoy so great a nobility, we do not even know the things that are spoken, because we quickly lose the realities and are enthralled by the things of sense.

For this glory, ineffable and awe-inspiring, abides in us for but one day or two; but thereafter we quench it, bringing on the storm of the affairs of this life, and by the density of the clouds beating back its rays.

For the affairs of this life are a wintry storm, and more gloomy than any winter.

For from it there springs no frost, nor rain, nor does it make mud and a deep mire; but things

far more grievous than these: it brings together hell, and the evils of hell.

And just as in a severe frost all the limbs are stiffened and are as dead,

so also in the winter of sins the soul, shuddering, accomplishes none of its proper works, being frozen stiff as it were by the frost of conscience.

For what the cold is to the body, that an evil conscience is to the soul.

For nothing is more cowardly than the man who is nailed fast to the things of this life;

for such a one lives the life of Cain, trembling every single day.

And why do I speak of deaths and losses and offenses and flatteries and courtings? For even apart from these he dreads ten thousand vicissitudes.

And though his treasury is stuffed full of gold, yet his soul is not delivered from the fear of poverty;

for he rides at anchor, as it were, upon things rotten and easily overturned;

and even if he himself does not undergo the change, yet seeing it happen to others, he is undone;

and great is his cowardice, and great his lack of manliness.

For such a one is fainthearted not only in the face of dangers, but in respect to all other things as well;

and if a desire of money falls upon him, he does not, like a free man, repel the assault, but, like a bought slave, does everything, serving covetousness as a harsh mistress;

and if he sees some comely maiden, he is straightway crouched down and taken captive, and follows like a mad dog, when he ought to do the very opposite.

For when you see a beautiful woman, do not consider how you may enjoy your desire, but how you may be rid of your desire.

'And how is this possible?' he says. 'For to love is not in my power.'

But whose power is it, tell me? 'The malicious assault of the demon.'

Do you really suppose that it is a demon that plots against you? Then wrestle and do battle with the malady.

Come then, first we will teach you this: that what happens is the result of your own slothfulness, and that you yourself, at the outset, gave the demon an entrance, and that now too, if you are willing, you will thrust him off with great ease.

For tell me, those who commit adultery, do they do it out of love, or simply because they desire dangers? It is quite plain that they do it out of love.

Do they then obtain pardon? By no means.

Why ever not? Because the sin is their own.

'But why do you weave syllogisms at me?' he says. 'I am conscious to myself that I wish to repel the passion, yet I have no strength; but it besets me and presses hard and grievously torments me.'

You wish to repel it, O man, but you do not do the things that belong to those who repel it;

rather, you suffer the same thing as if a man in a fever, and gorging himself with cold draughts, should say,

'How many things do I devise, wishing to quench the fever, and I have no strength; nay rather, I kindle my flame the more!' Let us then see whether you too are doing the things that inflame, while you think you are devising the things that extinguish.

Tell me then, what have you ever attempted to do in order to quench the passion? And what in general is it that increases the passion? For even if we are not all liable to these charges (for we should find more taken captive by the love of money than by the love of bodies), yet there will be set before all a common remedy, both for these and for those.

For that also is an unseemly love, and so is this; but this one is sharper and keener than that.

When therefore we have got the better of the greater, it is quite plain that we shall easily overcome the lesser also.

'And how is it,' he says, 'if this one is sharper, that not all are taken captive by the evil, but the greater number are mad after money?' Because, in the first place, this desire seems to be without danger;

and next, even if the love of bodies is keener, yet it is more quickly extinguished;

for if it were to abide, as the love of money does, it would utterly destroy the one it takes captive.

Come then, let us discourse to you concerning this love of bodies, and let us see whence the evil grows;

for so shall we know whether this be our own fault, or not our own;

and if it be our own, let us do everything so as to get the better of it;

but if it be not our own, why do we vainly beat ourselves? And why do we not pardon, but bring charges against those who are taken captive? Whence then is this love engendered? 'From the comeliness of a face,' he says, 'when she that wounds is fair and beautiful.'

You speak these things at random and to no purpose.

For if it belonged to beauty to draw lovers to itself, then such a maiden would have had all men for her lovers;

but if she does not have all, then this comes not from nature, nor from beauty, but from

for when, having looked with idle curiosity, you admire and become enamored, you have received the dart.

'And who,' he says, 'could see a beautiful woman and not praise her whom he beholds?'

If then it be not in our own choice to admire such things, neither, it would seem, is the love within us.

Why do you confound all things together, running about in every direction, and unwilling to see the root of the evil? For I see many who admire and praise, yet do not love.

'And how is it possible to admire and not to love?' Do not make a tumult;

for this is what I am coming to say;

but wait, and you shall hear Moses admiring the son of Jacob, and saying:

'And Joseph was of a beautiful form, and exceedingly fair to look upon.'

Did then he who spoke these words fall in love? By no means.

'Why, he did not even see him,' one says, 'the one whom he praised.'

But even toward beauties that we only hear of, we experience some such thing, not toward those seen only.

But that you may not contend with us in these matters: was not David exceedingly beautiful, and ruddy withal, with beauty of eyes? Which is indeed the most tyrannical part of comeliness, the beauty of the eyes.

Did anyone then fall in love with him? By no means.

It is not, therefore, the case that love arises together with admiration.

For indeed many have had mothers in the very flower and bloom of bodily beauty.

What then? Did their sons fall in love with them? Away with the thought!

Rather, they admire what they see, but do not fall into a shameful love.

'For here again,' one says, 'it is the achievement of nature.'

Of what nature, tell me? 'Because they are mothers,' he says.

Then have you not heard that the Persians, with none compelling them, lie with their own mothers, and that not one nor two, but a whole nation? And apart from this, from that quarter too it is plain that this malady is not of the body's bloom, nor of beauty simply, but of the slothful and wandering soul.

At any rate, many have oftentimes passed by ten thousand comely women, and given themselves up to those more unsightly;

whence it is plain that love is not of beauty;

for otherwise those beauties would have captivated, in preference to these, the men who fell.

What then is the cause? For if love be not of beauty, whence does it have its beginning and its root? he says. 'From an evil demon?' It has its source from thence too;

but this is not what is being inquired into, but rather whether we too are not the cause.

For the plot is not theirs alone, but along with them we ourselves are the first authors of it.

For from no other source is this wicked malady so engendered as from familiarity, and flattering words, and idleness and inactivity, and having nothing to do.

For great, yea great, is the tyranny of habit, and so great that it establishes itself into the necessity of nature.

But if it be habit that engenders it, then it is quite plain that habit also quenches it.

Many, at any rate, who were in love have in this way ceased from it, when the objects of their love were no longer seen.

For a brief while this seems to be bitter, and exceedingly unpleasant; but with time it becomes sweet, and thereafter one cannot revive the passion even if he would.

with time it becomes sweet, and one is no longer able, even if he wishes it, to bring back the passion.

What then, when apart from any familiarity one is captured at the very first sight? Here too the cause is idleness of body, or luxury, and taking no thought for one's proper duties, nor being engaged in necessary affairs.

For such a man, wandering about like a vagabond, is impaled upon every wickedness; and like an unchecked child, whoever wishes may enslave a soul of this sort.

and like an unchecked child, whoever wishes may enslave such a soul.

For since it is habituated to be active, when you make it cease from its activity in good things, since it cannot be idle, it is compelled to give birth to other things.

Just as the earth, when it is neither sown nor planted, brings forth mere weeds; so too the soul, when it has nothing necessary to do, yet altogether desiring to be at work, gives itself over to wicked deeds.

so too the soul, when it has nothing needful to do, yet in every way longing to be active, gives itself over to wicked deeds.

And just as the eye does not cease from seeing, and for this reason will look upon evil things when good ones are not set before it; so too the reasoning faculty, when it withdraws itself from necessary matters, thereafter turns to useless things.

so too the reasoning faculty, when it leads itself away from necessary matters, thereafter turns about among useless things.

For that occupation and thoughtful care can also repel the very first assault, is clear from many considerations.

When, therefore, you see a beautiful woman and are somewhat affected toward her, look no more, and you are set free.

'And how,' he says, 'shall I be able to look no more, when I am dragged along by desire?' Give yourself to other things that draw the soul away—to books, to necessary cares, to protecting and helping those who are wronged;

to prayers, to meditation upon the things to come;

with such things bind fast your soul.

In this way you will not only heal a fresh wound, but even one that has become fixed and chronic you will easily wipe away.

For if insult, according to the proverb, persuades the lover to give up his love, how shall not these spiritual incantations far more prevail over the evil, if only we are willing to withdraw? But if we are ever conversing and consorting with those who shoot such darts at us, both speaking and hearing the things that come from them, we nourish the disease.

How then do you expect the fire to be quenched, while day by day you kindle the flame? And let this suffice for what we have said concerning familiarity, addressed to the young;

since for men, and those who know how to practice self-discipline, greater than all is the fear of God, the remembrance of hell, the longing for the kingdom of heaven;

for these are sufficient to quench the fire.

And along with these consider also this, that the thing seen is nothing else than phlegm and blood and the humor of decomposing food.

'But bright is the bloom of the countenance,' he says.

But nothing is brighter than the flowers that spring from the earth;

yet these too rot and wither away.

Do not therefore, here either, give heed to the bloom;

but pass within by reasoning, and stripping off with your reason that fair skin, examine closely what lies beneath it.

Since the body of those with dropsy also glistens bright, and its surface has nothing amiss; yet, struck by the thought of the humor stored up within, we cannot love such people.

'But the eye is moist and lively, and the brow finely arched, and the lashes dark, and the pupil gentle, and the gaze serene.'

But observe that this very thing again is nothing else than sinews and veins and membranes and arteries.

But do you, I pray, picture to me this beautiful eye when it is diseased, when it grows old, when it is wasted by despondency, when it is swollen with anger—how loathsome it becomes, how quickly it perishes, and vanishes faster than things painted.

From these things transfer your mind to the true beauty.

'But I do not see,' he says, 'the beauty of a soul.'

And just as it is possible, without seeing with the eyes, to admire in the mind those who are beautiful yet absent;

so too is it possible to behold the beauty of a soul apart from the eyes.

Have you not often sketched in imagination a comely form, and been somewhat affected by the fashioning of it? Fashion now also the beauty of a soul, and delight yourself in its comeliness.

'But I do not see,' he says, 'things incorporeal.'

And yet we see these more truly with the mind than we see bodies.

It is for this reason, at any rate, that we admire both angels and archangels, though indeed we do not see them, and the characters of their ways and the virtue of the soul.

And if you see a man who is reasonable and moderate, you will admire him more than that comely countenance;

and if you see one who is insulted, and bears it though wronged, then, together with admiring, love such men, even if they are grown old.

For such is the beauty of the soul, that even in old age it has many lovers, and is never withered, but blooms perpetually.

In order, therefore, that we ourselves also may acquire this, let us hunt after those who possess it, and become lovers of them.

For in this way we ourselves also, having received this comeliness, shall be able to attain the eternal good things;

which may it be that we all partake of, through the grace and lovingkindness, and so forth.